Four Loveless Years, One Unforgettable Goodbye

Willa had slipped away, leaving nothing but silence in her wake.

For an entire day, her phone stayed off, her messages unread, as though she'd dropped off the face of the earth.

Bryan was wrapping up work at the office when his phone buzzed with a call from Cody.

"Why can't I reach Willa? Her phone's off, and you can't get through either? What the hell is going on with you two?" Cody's irritated voice barked through the line.

Bryan held the phone away from his ear, his patience thinning. "How would I know?" he snapped, voice clipped and tense.

"She's your wife. If you don't know where she is, who should I ask then? Listen—if you don't bring her with you when you visit me this weekend, don't even think about showing up."

The call ended with a sharp click.

Bryan's brows drew together, his face clouding as he slammed the phone onto his desk.

His assistant, Jarrod Powell, stepped in and laid a freshly printed contract in front of him.

Catching the way Bryan kneaded his temples, dark circles under his eyes, Jarrod ventured, "Mr. Scott, did you clear up that headline with Mrs. Scott?"

Bryan immediately shot back, "Why should I have to explain anything to her?"

A baffled sound slipped out of Jarrod. "You two are legally married. You owe each other at least some loyalty. If gossip is swirling around you, your wife is bound to overthink it. You shouldn't make her cry."

With a nervous little laugh, he tacked on. "Well, except maybe in bed."

That earned him an icy stare as Bryan sneered, "You sound very experienced in relationships."

Bryan then thumbed through his contacts for Willa's number and hit dial, only to be met with silence.

Jarrod's face flushed scarlet. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice. "There's another matter… Did you tell Mrs. Scott that the rear-end accident last month wasn't an accident at all—that you planned it?"

Bryan's expression darkened, a sharp frown creasing his brow. "You're overstepping your bounds, Jarrod. Mind your own business."

Bryan couldn't quite explain it, but as long as he and Willa kept a respectful distance, life ran smoothly. She handled the housework with quiet efficiency, preparing his meals, doing the laundry, and every weekend she'd head to Scott Mansion to chat with Cody and help out with family matters. Everything stayed neat and orderly.

After they had shared a passionate night, something shifted.

That night, she'd wound her legs around his waist, her palms framing his face with a tender urgency as she surrendered completely to the moment.

All the restraint he'd kept buried for years erupted in a rush of heat he couldn't contain.

Somehow, he'd been devoured by desire far more easily than he ever thought possible.

On his way out, Jarrod casually set down a tube of allergy relief ointment. "This worked last time you had that peach reaction. With those marks on your neck, anyone would think a woman left them there."

Bryan's gaze lingered on the ointment, and a memory surfaced—an employee had given him some peaches. Just brushing against them had made his skin crawl with unbearable itch.

He opened the lid, and a sharp medicinal scent hit him, stirring a dull ache behind his temples.

His mind drifted to Willa. She'd been skilled at crafting scented candles and always tucked a few into his luggage before business trips. Whenever he lit one in a hotel room, the mellow fragrance would linger for days.

At home, her touch remained in the air too—a soft sweetness of citrus, threaded with faint floral notes that never quite faded.

Bryan pressed his lips into a thin line and tossed the box back across the desk.

His gaze lifted to Jarrod as he instructed, "I asked you to find that driver. It's been a month and you still have nothing."

Jarrod froze, caught off guard. A month ago, when Willa had been drugged, Bryan had received her panicked text. He'd been tied up in an urgent international conference, and their marriage was already on thin ice back then—so he'd sent Jarrod to handle it.

Tracking her phone's signal, Jarrod had rammed straight into the suspect's car. But before he could react, the suspect darted into the shadows and vanished like a ghost.

Snapping back to the present, Jarrod quickly straightened. "We've got a lead. He finally showed himself after a month in hiding. His card was used at a bar. I've already dispatched a team—shouldn't be long before we have him."

Bryan gave a curt nod. Another meeting was about to start, so he didn't linger. But midway through the discussion, his phone lit up with a call from an unfamiliar number.

Jarrod meant to decline the call for Bryan but accidentally hit the speakerphone instead.

"Hello, is this Mr. Bryan Scott? You submitted an inquiry about premature ejaculation yesterday. When would you like to come in? Our specialists can provide a free physical examination."

A thick silence dropped over the conference room, suffocating and tense.

Every shareholder stared, stunned. Bryan, still so young, was already having trouble in bed?

Jarrod nearly fumbled the phone in his panic, rushing to end the call. His face went pale as he stammered, "Um, it is a mix-up. The caller must've dialed the wrong number. Just a coincidence with the name."

Bryan's eyes turned glacial as he leveled a look at Jarrod.

That number was private. No one could have leaked it besides that infuriating woman, Willa.