Chapter 164

The moment they stepped out of the restaurant, someone chuckled. "Claire's really something, isn't she? I ordered a bottle of wine—thirty grand! I'd never spend that much on a drink in my life."

Another voice chimed in. "And what about Lucas? How is she this happy about the divorce?"

"Honestly, treating the entire restaurant to celebrate? Only the ultra-rich live like this. Even divorce is a grand event for them."

Their laughter faded as they walked away.

Lucas, who had heard every word, froze in place.

The pain hit him like a tidal wave, crushing his chest until he could barely breathe. He stumbled through the streets, desperate to find Claire, only to discover she was throwing a party to celebrate their separation.

It was unbearable.

The agony was suffocating, as if he'd been thrown into a frozen abyss with no escape. No light. No hope.

Claire's celebration was a knife twisting in his heart.

"I don’t want this divorce!" The words screamed in his mind.

He couldn't accept it.

Not like this.

Not when he still loved her.

Three days. That was all he could take.

Alexander Whitmore sat on the edge of the bed, clad in black silk pajamas. His gaze lingered on the empty space beside him.

A single strand of Evelyn’s hair still rested on the pillow—left behind from three nights ago.

Since she had walked out, this was all he had left of her. He had twisted it between his fingers so many times it had lost its sheen.

Now, he wound it around his index finger, phone pressed to his ear, his voice rough with exhaustion.

"Darling, when are you coming home?"

The silence on the other end was deafening.

Alexander exhaled sharply. Evelyn could skip work—fine. But why wasn’t she even coming home?

Three days. No calls. No texts.

This wasn’t how a wife behaved.

They had barely been married a month. Weren’t they supposed to be in the honeymoon phase?

It was driving him insane.

His mind refused to focus. Not during meetings. Not during calls.

Every second was consumed by one thought—Where the hell was she?

The office was unusually quiet.

Alexander Whitmore sat at his desk, staring blankly at the documents in front of him. His fingers tapped restlessly against the mahogany surface, his mind elsewhere.

For the past three days, his phone had been silent.

No calls.

No messages.

Nothing from Evelyn.

It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.

Lucas Bennett had dragged him out to Eclipse Lounge two nights in a row, drowning his sorrows in whiskey.

"Can't believe I was such an idiot," Lucas slurred, his glass half-empty. "Claire's gone, and I don't even know where to start looking."

Alexander barely listened.

His own thoughts were a storm of frustration and regret.

Why hadn’t Evelyn reached out?

Had she really just walked away?

Lucas groaned, slumping forward. "She’s vanished. Like a ghost."

Alexander exhaled sharply.

He knew the feeling.

Every time he unlocked his phone, he half-expected to see her name flash across the screen.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

And it was driving him mad.