13

Markus scoffed, setting his glass down with a loud clink. “Home?” He let out a humorless laugh. “That place hasn’t felt like home in a long time. Everyone is wearing a facade, a mask of empathy.” The woman beside him smirked, her fingers trailing lightly down Markus’s arm. “Oh, let the man have some fun,” she purred, her voice smooth and coaxing. “He deserves a break, doesn’t he?”

Lars’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. “Your health and your responsibilities, sir, are more important than this… diversion.”

Markus’s glare shifted to Lars, his lips curling into a sneer. “Responsibilities?” he repeated mockingly. “Is that what she told you? That I’m shirking my duties?” He shook his head, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

Lars held his ground, his patience thinning. “No, sir. But it’s my duty to ensure your safety and to inform you that your actions have consequences. Especially for those waiting for you at home.”

Markus stared at him for a long moment, his jaw tightening as if waging an internal battle. Then he slammed the glass down on the table and pushed himself to his feet. The sudden motion caused the woman to frown in disappointment. “Fine,” Markus said, brushing past Lars. “Let’s go. But don’t think for a second this is because of her.”

Lars nodded, falling into step behind him, relieved that Markus was at least leaving the bar. But as they walked out, Lars couldn’t help but wonder if this night had driven an even deeper wedge between Markus and Valeria. How much more strain their fragile relationship could endure? Lars had seen her, observed her. And to him she was genuine. 

 The grand hallway was silent, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the tall windows. Valeria stood near the corner, her delicate hands clutching the edge of a decorative column as she watched Lars support Markus down the corridor. Her breath hitched as she took in the sight of her husband. His steps were unsteady, his head drooping as if the weight of the world—or perhaps the liquor—was too much to bear.

Lars had one of Markus’s arms slung over his broad shoulder, his other hand gripping his waist to keep him upright. The bodyguard’s expression was neutral, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he guided Markus carefully toward the room.

Valeria’s heart clenched at the sight. She wanted to step forward, to help, but her feet felt rooted to the spot. She wasn’t sure if it was the memory of Markus’s harsh words or the fear of rejection that held her back. Instead, she watched silently, her fingers digging into the smooth marble of the column for support.

As Lars reached the bedroom door, he adjusted Markus’s weight and pushed it open with his foot. The door creaked slightly, breaking the heavy silence. Valeria took a cautious step forward, peeking through the small gap as Lars guided Markus to the bed.

Markus let out a low groan, his head lolling to the side as Lars eased him onto the mattress. The once-proud and intimidating figure now looked vulnerable, his shirt rumpled, and his expression slack as he gave in to unconsciousness.

Lars straightened, pulling the covers over Markus with a quiet efficiency. He stood there for a moment, his gaze lingering on his employer as if assessing whether he was truly settled. Then, with a resigned sigh, Lars stepped back and turned toward the door.

As he opened it, he found himself face-to-face with Valeria, who was standing just outside the threshold. Her wide eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her hands fidgeted nervously at her sides.

Lars hesitated, his deep voice breaking the silence. “He’s resting now, ma’am,” he said, his tone low and respectful.

Valeria nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Lars.”

The bodyguard gave her a slight nod before stepping out of the room and pulling the door closed behind him. His heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway as he walked away, leaving Valeria standing alone in the quiet corridor.

She placed her hand on the doorknob, hesitating. Her heart ached to be near him, to care for him, even though he had pushed her away so many times. But the memory of his bitterness and the coldness in his eyes lingered in her mind, holding her back.

Taking a shaky breath, Valeria let her hand fall to her side. She turned and began walking toward her own room, the tears she had held back finally spilling over. The echo of her soft, retreating footsteps was the only sound in the stillness of the night.

Valeria lingered outside the door, her fingers trembling against the cold brass of the doorknob. Her chest felt heavy, conflicted between the urge to go to Markus and the fear of what she might encounter. Finally, summoning her courage, she turned the handle quietly and slipped inside.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Markus lay sprawled on the bed, his face turned to the side, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. His lips moved, faint whispers breaking the silence.

Valeria stepped closer, her bare feet silent against the plush carpet. She halted a few steps from the bed, her breath catching when she heard his voice.

“Bella...” Markus mumbled, his tone filled with anguish. His voice cracked as he repeated the name, his hands clenching the sheets as if reaching for something—or someone—that wasn’t there. “Bella... please... I’m sorry.”

Valeria’s heart sank. She froze, her wide eyes locked on him as the name echoed in her mind. Bella? The name felt foreign and sharp, like a dagger piercing her chest. She bit her lip, her fingers gripping the edge of the sofa near the window as she slowly lowered herself onto it.

Markus turned slightly in his sleep, his brows furrowing as he let out a low, pained sound. “I should’ve... I should’ve been there... Bella...” His voice cracked again, and his head shook slightly as if caught in a dream—or a memory—that tormented him.

Valeria watched in silence, her heart twisting at the raw pain in his voice. It was the first time she had ever seen him this vulnerable, and it left her with more questions than answers. Who is Bella? she wondered, her mind racing. Why is he crying for her in his sleep? Why does he sound so broken?

Her gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of her dress. A pang of jealousy flared in her chest, followed quickly by guilt. She didn’t know who Bella was or what she had meant to Markus, but it was clear she had left a mark on him—a mark that Valeria could never seem to reach.

The silence in the room felt deafening, broken only by Markus’s uneven breathing. Valeria glanced at him again, her heart aching despite herself. Whatever pain he carried, it ran deep, and she didn’t know if she had a place in his world to even begin to understand it.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, determined not to let her emotions spiral. She had come here to care for him, to mend their fractured relationship, but now it felt like she was facing an invisible wall—a ghost from his past that she couldn’t compete with.

Markus let out another soft groan, his head shifting slightly on the pillow. Valeria stood, her movements slow and quiet as she approached the bed. She adjusted the covers, tucking them gently around him, her fingers trembling as she brushed against his hand.

For a brief moment, she considered waking him, demanding answers. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she backed away, her gaze lingering on his tear-streaked face before she turned and left the room.

As she closed the door softly behind her, Valeria leaned against it, pressing a hand to her chest. The name “Bella” echoed in her mind, leaving her feeling like an outsider in her own marriage. Whatever secrets Markus carried, she realized they might be the very thing that kept them apart—and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to face them.

Valeria’s footsteps echoed softly down the dim hallway, each step heavier than the last as she made her way to her assigned room. The air felt colder, and the realization that she was no longer welcome in the room she once thought would be hers as Markus’s wife made her chest ache.