His for a year. - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

I hadn't seen Zade all day.
Not after Anna’s performance, not after the garden. Just silence—and the slow, steady build of dread in my chest.
I took this chance to see the other rooms I hadn't been in since I got here.
I was still in the guest lounge when I heard his voice behind me. Calm. Controlled.
“Come with me.”
I turned to see him in a black long-sleeved shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the veins on his forearms. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, didn’t give anything away.
How did he find me? I thought he was supposed to be at his company's office?
I followed, silently.
He didn’t take me to his room or his office. Just a quiet study tucked near the back wing, one I didn’t even know existed. The curtains were drawn, the space dim, lit only by the warm glow of a desk lamp. It felt private, intentional.
He gestured to a seat, then sat across from me.
“I found something,” he said, voice low. “And I think you deserve to know.”
My stomach twisted. Why's he being so serious?
He reached for a folder on the desk and placed it in front of me, but didn’t open it. His eyes stayed on mine. “It’s about your father.”
I didn’t touch the folder.
“What... what about him?” My voice felt too small. I didn't know what to expect.
He exhaled, steady. “His name’s been flagged in several international criminal databases. He was under investigation for embezzlement, blackmail… and a murder charge tied to a failed real estate scam in Madrid.”
I blinked.
No breath moved through me.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not... my dad wouldn’t…”
“I didn’t want to believe it at first either,” Zade said. “So I had my team dig deeper. It wasn’t just a disappearance. He ran.”
I stared at the words on the papers, my stomach lurching. It didn’t sting the way it might’ve if me and my father had been close. But it shook me —because this was still my blood, my name.
“I always knew he was... distant. But I didn’t think he was a criminal,” I whispered. “He was quiet. Detached. Cold. But I didn’t think he’d be this.”
Zade walked towards me and sat, just beside me, watching my face carefully. “You don’t have to carry his sins.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s just… I’ve spent so long wondering why he left. Why he never came back. Now I know. He never meant to. We don't mean anything to him.”
Silence settled between us.
Then Zade’s voice dropped, softer this time. “My father… he didn’t have the best legacy either. The media says he had a stroke. Truth is, he got paralyzed after a fight in a club. One of the early investors blackmailed him, tried to take everything. He didn’t want the public to know, so we buried it.”
I looked at him, his jaw hard and gaze far away. He wasn’t just telling me facts—he was exposing pain.
“I know what it feels like to have a distant father. I just think, no child deserves to live in ignorance of their behaviour. We'll learn from them about the mistakes to avoid.”
We sat like that for a moment, two broken children of broken men, trying to find footing in legacies we never asked for.
Then he shifted, looking back at me. “Would you like to see your mom today?”
I blinked at him. “I called the hospital yesterday, they said she's still in a coma.”
“I know. I had them send me her medical records. She’s stable. Still unresponsive, but stable. I can clear my schedule if you want me to take you.”
My voice came out small. “You’d do that?”
He nodded once. “You’re not alone in this. I'd agreed to do this.”
The ride to the hospital was quiet, but not uncomfortable. I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, my thoughts spinning around the weight of everything I’d just learned. After a long pause, I turned to him.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “For making time to do this.”
He kept his eyes on the road, but his hand briefly tapped the steering wheel in acknowledgment. “Don’t thank me.”
“I mean it,” I said. “You’re busy. You didn’t have to.”
His lips twitched slightly, the hint of a smile or maybe just restraint. “You’re my wife, Olive. And your mother’s under our care. It’s only right I check in on what’s being paid for.”
I felt that one. The words weren’t meant to hurt—he wasn’t cruel—but they still did. Even when spoken gently, the reminder of the contract sliced cleaner than I expected. I looked away again, blinking fast.
“Does Anna know?” I clutched my phone in fear of what she could possibly do to me with this information.
“I didn't tell her.” He said almost immediately. “But she's part of my team so, she'd probably know soon,” he added.
I could feel a knot in my chest.
“She won't do anything with that information.” He said, his voice filled with surety as if he tells her everything to do with her life.
I continued to stare at the window, hoping and praying that she doesn't get a hold of this information.
We pulled up in front of the towering glass building minutes later. The AvnerTech Medical Center—a pristine private hospital that didn’t just scream luxury, it whispered exclusivity. I had seen it on TV once, in a feature on billionaire philanthropy. Now I was walking through its halls.
We were led through polished white corridors to a private floor, guarded and quiet. The nurse bowed slightly when she saw Zade, then pushed open the door to my mother’s room.
I froze at the threshold.
There she was. My mother. Sleeping—still. But cared for. The room smelled of lavender. Soft music hummed from a corner speaker. There were fresh flowers on the table, and mother’s hair was neatly braided.
She looked peaceful. So peaceful that I had to grip the edge of the bed to keep from falling apart.
“She looks better,” I whispered, my fingers brushing mother’s hand. “Healthier than when I left her.”
Zade didn’t answer right away. He stood a few feet back, giving her space. “The best doctors in the state are working on her.”
I turned her head to him, my voice cracking. “You did this?”
He met my gaze, unreadable. “I’m only doing my part of the contract.”
It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was just… matter-of-fact. But still, it hit me in the chest. Why'd he keep reminding me?
I nodded slowly, biting the inside of her cheek. I didn’t let him see how the words stung. I wouldn’t give him that.
Instead, I turned back to my mom, murmuring a soft prayer, then leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
“I’ll come back soon,” I whispered.
We walked back out together in silence. I didn’t speak during the drive home, and neither did he.
When we got to the gate, he pulled over and turned slightly to me. “Call if you need anything.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
And then he drove off, leaving me in the quiet hush of the driveway, unsure of what part of my life was real anymore—and what was just carefully constructed fiction.
The silence in the house pressed on me like a weight. No workers in sight. No distant heels clacking. Just me.
I climbed up to my room and kicked off my shoes. My dress felt too tight now, too extravagant for someone whose mother is in a coma and father is a ghost.
I lay back on the bed, eyes on the ornate ceiling.
"I'm only doing my part of the contract."
It replayed over and over. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Just then, my phone buzzed.
It was a private number.
A chill swept over my spine. I hesitated, then picked up.
Silence.
"Hello?" I said.
Still silence—but then... breathing. Slow. Controlled. Almost mechanical.
My heart started to pound. "Who is this?"
The line went dead.
I stared at the screen. One second. Two.
Another buzz. A DM on Instagram.
A photo.
My thumb hesitated before opening it. When it opened, my stomach twisted.
It was a picture of me and Zade from earlier today—outside the hospital. Just a few minutes ago; I turned slightly toward him, my hand wrapped in his, my face soft with emotion. The photo had been taken from a distance. Across the street. Through a car window or behind a wall.
No caption, weird username and the photo.
My fingers began to shake. I tossed the phone aside like it was burning.
I jumped up and rushed to Zade’s room—but it was empty. Of course it was. He had gone back to work. I was alone.
Pacing, my mind spiralled. Was that just someone being cruel? The paparazzi? No. No one else knew they were there. No one.
First the text message from a stranger who I assumed to be David, then now a picture? Someone's obviously watching us, watching me.
My phone buzzed again, but I didn't touch it. I was too afraid to.