3rd person POV
Max stood near the window of his penthouse, his hands braced on the cold glass as he stared at the city lights below. He had gone there after he heard of Vivian’s disappearance. The sky was a deep, endless black, swallowing the stars, and the streets were alive with movement, cars weaving through intersections, people laughing in the distance. But none of it reached him. His chest felt hollow. His mind was a haze of questions, disbelief wrapping around him like a suffocating fog.
Vivian had left. She had chosen to leave.
Not kidnapped. Not forced. Not in danger. Just… gone.
Ray had called him an hour ago, his voice quiet, hesitant, as if bracing for Max’s reaction. She went to France, to her grandfather’s estate. She’s taking over the company, Boss. She left willingly.
Willingly. The word echoed in his skull like a hammer striking steel.
Max exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. He could almost picture it-Vivian boarding a plane, her dark eyes set with quiet determination, her hand gripping a passport, her chin lifted, resolute. She hadn’t said goodbye. Not to him. Not after everything.
Had she planned this all along? Had she known, even in that hospital bed, that she was leaving?
His mind flickered back to their last conversation. The way she had looked at him-soft, tired, a sadness tucked behind her lashes. He had thought it was exhaustion. Pain. Maybe even gratitude. But now… now he wasn’t sure.
He clenched his fists, his pulse pounding against his skin. He should have known. There had been signs, small ones, little hesitations, words unsaid. Had she ever really meant to stay?
His phone buzzed on the table, shattering the silence.
Max barely glanced at the screen before picking up. “Ray.”
A soft laugh crackled through the line. Not Ray.
His muscles stiffened. “Ruth.”
“I was hoping you’d sound happier to hear my voice,” Ruth drawled, her tone playful, but there was something in it-something sharp, edged with amusement. “Then again, I suppose I did get you into a bit of a hassle last time, I’m tired of staying here, release me before I tell you why I called”
Max’s grip on the phone tightened. “If you have nothing useful to say, I’m hanging up.”
“Relax, Max. I called because I thought you deserved the truth.”
He didn’t reply. He didn’t trust Ruth. She was manipulative, dangerous in ways that didn’t always make sense. She had spent months trying to insert herself into his life, had tried to hurt Vivian-had almost succeeded. And yet, for some reason, she was calling him now, smug and satisfied, like she knew something he didn’t.
“I heard Vivian left,” Ruth continued, her voice laced with a kind of exaggerated sympathy. “France, wasn’t it?”
Max’s pulse hammered against his skin. “What do you want, Ruth?”
Another soft laugh. “I just hate seeing you like this. Confused. Heartbroken. Left in the dark.”
Max shut his eyes, forcing himself to breathe evenly. “Get to the point.”
Ruth hummed. “You think she left because of the company, don’t you?”
A sharp pause. A prickle of unease climbed up Max’s spine.
“She didn’t leave for the company,” Ruth whispered, her voice slow, deliberate. “She left because she didn’t want to tell you the truth.”
His fingers curled against the edge of the table. “What truth?”
“She’s pregnant, Max.”
The words hit him like a fist to the gut.
A deep, stretching silence filled the space between them.
He could hear his own breath, rough, uneven, could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, thick and suffocating. His mind refused to process it, refused to wrap around the possibility.
Vivian. Pregnant.
“No,” Max said, his voice low, dangerous.
Ruth sighed. “You really are stubborn, aren’t you?”
“She would have told me.”
“She didn’t want to,” Ruth corrected. “Because the baby isn’t yours. It belongs to Daniel!”
Max went still.
The air in the room shifted, the walls pressing in, the lights too bright, too harsh.
He felt like the ground beneath him had disappeared.
The silence stretched between them, long and unbearable, until Ruth spoke again, her voice quiet, almost pitying.
“She didn’t want you to know, Max. That’s why she left.”
Max’s grip on the phone turned white-knuckled.
It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.
And yet… Vivian had left without a word.
Without a goodbye.
Without an explanation. Without information.
His chest ached, his stomach twisting into knots, his breath shallow.
Had she ever really loved him? Or had he just been another chapter, another mistake, in a story she had already decided to leave behind?
He forced himself to speak. “Who’s the father?”
A pause.
Then Ruth laughed, soft and knowing.
“Now, that’s the real question, isn’t it?”
And the line went dead.