His for a year. - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

“She called to check on me after Mrs Eloise's birthday party. Then she started rambling about how things weren’t what they seemed. I pressed her, and she got weird. She ended the call immediately.”
She took a sip from her cup and continued.
“She called again yesterday, asking me about you. I asked her if you guys weren’t besties again, then she started saying you have been acting weird since you got Avner to your name forgetting that it's a fake marriage.”
I gripped my cup tighter. “She said that?”
“Yeah. When I asked about it–the fake marriage–she said something about how you should be the one telling me the truth about the contract marriage. Then she hung up.”
“Well did she call you back?” I asked, my voice low.
Her jaw tightened. “We haven’t spoken since.”
My chest sank with the weight of that truth. Amanda had done it. Amanda had opened the door.
She knew what that would do to me. I told her about the contract. The penalties if I breached. She knew how it would harm me, but yet, she still did.
“She was right about one thing,” I said quietly. “I should have told you myself.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Aliyah murmured. “I’m mad I didn't handle it well.”
“How'd Zade react?” She asked, her voice covered in guilt.
I sighed, “not well. I'm here.”
“I'm sorry I caused this.” She bowed her head.
“No. It's not you.” I said quickly.
Amanda knew how Aliyah was. How she's never one to keep shut. How she couldn't handle her emotions well, but still exposed this to her.
We lapsed into silence again, then I nudged her. “We should leave soon, though.”
“What?”
“This is still Zade’s house. This place? Jake’s staying here out of courtesy, but technically it’s still Avner-owned. It’s not really freedom if we’re still living under his shadow.”
She nodded slowly. She hadn’t thought of that. But I was right. This wasn’t ours. None of it was.
So we began making plans.
A week had passed now.
No calls. No texts. Not from Zade. Not from Anna. Not even Amanda.
The silence rang louder than any shouting match could have.
I found myself glancing at my phone more than I wanted to admit—every morning, every night, after every shower, every nap. Hoping.
But nothing came.
And somehow, that absence hurt more than any of Zade’s harshest words.
He didn't care? He didn't even check if I was dead or roaming the streets? He hadn't even come to this house to ask Aliyah anything.
Was he still mad? Ughhhhhh.
Ray had stopped by once, dropping off a bag of plantain chips and a fresh charger like a loyal friend. I almost asked about Zade, but bit my tongue. I shouldn't do that to Ray. That door, once opened, would be too heavy to close again.
So I let it be.
It was midday. The sun was bright and hot outside, and the kitchen was warm with the smell of stew bubbling on the stove. I stirred gently, my sleeves rolled up, my head filled with static thoughts.
Then my phone rang.
My heart jumped.
I rushed, no, sprinted across the kitchen, wiping my hands on my apron, praying.
Zade?
But it wasn’t.
Sofia.
The name on the screen wasn’t what I wanted—but it was still enough to still my breath.
Why was Sofia calling me suddenly?
I answered, my voice a little shaky. “Hey.”
Sofia’s voice came through the line, calm but firm. “Are you free? To talk? Now.”
The sound of Sofia’s voice sliced through the line like a siren. I leaned against the kitchen counter, heart still racing from the expectation it had just been Zade.
“Yeah?” I dragged, catching my breath. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, Mrs Olive.” Sofia dragged the word out with dramatic flair. “Where do I even start? Everything has been upside down since you vanished just like that .”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” She scoffed. “I mean the whole Estate has become a goddamn circus. No clowns though—because Zade fired most of them.”
“Sofia,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Slow down.”
“No, please slow down and listen.” Her voice lowered like she was delivering classified intel. “Do you remember Bryan, the youngest assistant chef who never closes the dining fridge properly?”
“Yeah?”
“Zade sacked him last Thursday. Because his smoothie wasn't as thick as he liked.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“Yes. A smoothie! I happened to be around because Mrs Eloise called me for a measurement, then I heard voices. I asked the main chef, and she told me. Fired. Gone. Poof. Just like that. And guess who had to escort him out?”
“You?”
“Me!” she hissed. “And that’s not all. Rumours have been going on that on Monday, he snapped at the CFO in front of the whole board. The CFO! And yesterday—yesterday, Olive—I witnessed a full-blown shouting match between Zade and his mother. In the dining room. In front of people. I almost grabbed popcorn.”
“No,” I whispered.
“Yes,” she said, voice dramatic. “Mrs. Eloise told him he needed to stop acting like a tyrant and take some damn accountability. And you know what he did? He told her—and I quote—‘You don’t know what it feels like to lose something important without even understanding why it happened.’”
My heart skipped.
“What did she say?” I asked softly.
“She said, ‘Then go figure it out like a man instead of punishing the people around you.’” Sofia exhaled. “It was deliciously savage. And then he walked out of the dining room and locked himself in his house office. Again.”
Silence sat between us for a moment.
Then Sofia sighed, a little softer this time. “Mrs Olive… where are you?”
I hesitated. “With my sister.”
“Okay,” Sofia said. “I just… Listen. I know I talk a lot, and I have no reason to talk to you on your level. But, this man’s not functioning. And everyone is either terrified of him or just emotionally drained. I literally slipped in front of his car yesterday, the eyes he gave me were horrible. I apologized like I ran over his dog. It’s like walking on eggshells made of broken glass around him.”
“Wow,” I mumbled. “This is a lot.”
“It is. Please settle with your husband and come back to him. He’s acting like you took his soul with you.”
Silence settled over the phone. If only she knew this was a contracted husband. Maybe she wouldn't have cared this much.
Sofia paused, then added, “I’m not saying this to guilt you. I just… I’ve never seen him like this. Not even when his last investor deal crashed and burned. And I know he was an ass to you. You don’t need to explain anything to me. But I also know Zade Avner, to some extent. Not the perfect press release version. The real one. And this—this version? He’s just not it. And miserable Zade makes everyone miserable. Including me. And I'm not even working for him.”
Another pause.
“Try and come back,” she added quietly. “Let me do my job well again. Let me breathe without fearing I’ll get fired by someone I don't work for.”
“Sofia…”
“The only person he talks to normally is Leo.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Okay,” she replied, a little softer this time. “But think fast. Or I might find you myself and bring you to your hurting husband.”
I let out a light laugh, but my heart felt heavier than before.
“Thanks for calling,” I said.
“You need anything, I’m one call away. Always.”
The call ended, and I stood there, staring at my phone.
I didn’t know if I was ready to go back yet.
But maybe… just maybe… he wasn’t either.
I stared at the phone like it might light up again. That maybe he’d be the next one to call.
Maybe all this tension in my chest wasn’t one-sided after all.
Sofia said he was miserable. That he wasn’t functioning. That he snapped at his mother—in the presence of workers. That he fired people over smoothies.
Zade Avner Lloyd. Crumbling?
Because I wasn’t there? It's probably just a coincidence.
I sank into the nearest chair, fingers still curled around the phone like I didn’t trust it not to disappear. The longer I sat, the faster my heart beat, and not just from the shock. There was something else rising slowly in my throat—something warm and terrifying.
Relief.
That he cared, maybe.
After all the yelling, all the silence, all the venom in his voice that night, part of me was still desperate to matter to him. To know I wasn’t just some desperate girl who stumbled into his house and wrecked his life. To know that leaving hadn’t been as easy for him as it was supposed to be.
But then… Why didn’t he call? Or text? Or try to get to me?
My fingers tightened around the phone again.
Why didn’t he come for me?
If I meant something. If any of it—any of it—was real… why was I the only one bleeding from it?
My eyes stung, and I shook my head, standing up too quickly, hoping the motion would shake away the mess in my brain. My heart still hadn’t slowed. It was fluttering and anxious and hopeful all at once, and I hated it.
What do I even mean to him?
The sharp smell of something acrid snapped me out of the spiral.
The stew.
“Shit—shit!”
I dashed back to the kitchen. Smoke curled from the pot like punishment. I twisted off the gas and yanked the lid open, coughing.
Half-burnt stew hissed at me, thick and black at the edges.
I stared at it for a second, annoyed at myself. I’d just ruined dinner because of a man who couldn’t be bothered to send a text.
But the ache in my chest wouldn’t let up.
Even now, even after everything… I still wanted to know if I meant anything to him or if his behaviour was just a coincidence.
“Olive!” Aliyah’s voice echoed from the hallway, followed by a loud, dramatic cough. “Are you tryna kill us or just kill dinner?”
Jake appeared behind her, waving his hand in front of his face. “Man, what is that?”
I didn’t answer. I just stood there, looking like the stew—burnt out and useless.
Aliyah made a face as she stepped into the kitchen, still coughing. “You burnt the stew?” she asked like it was personal. “We don’t even have backup food in the fridge. What are we supposed to eat now?”
Jake peered into the pot like it had offended him. “This stew looks like it needs prayer.”
Aliyah turned to him, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “Shut up. You didn’t even help. You only come out when it’s time to eat.”
“I came out when I smelled something dying,” he muttered.
I forced a laugh, shaking my head. The sight of the two of them bickering over a burnt meal was oddly comforting.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I got distracted.”
Aliyah raised a brow, eyes narrowing just a little. “Zade?”
I hesitated. Then gave a small nod.
She didn’t press. Just sighed and opened the kitchen window wider. “Alright, we’ll order food. But next time you feel like reflecting on your life’s choices, set a timer. Or at least let someone else be in charge of the stew.” She looked at Jake, as if directing the responsibility to him.
He groaned. “I was watching my comfort series. I’m not in charge of anything.”
“You’re in charge of being annoying,” she muttered back.
I watched them both with a tired smile spreading on my lips. As chaotic as they were, they were my chaos. And somehow, they made me feel a little more grounded.
But even as we joked and placed food orders and opened windows, I couldn’t stop wondering…
If he really cared—why didn’t he show up?