Chapter 10
Jul 18, 2025
Landon’s POV
If regret had a sound, it would be the endless dial tone of unanswered calls. The kind that buzzed in your ear long after you’d hung up. I hear it every night now.
I didn’t go through Remington Security, I wasn’t stupid. My mother would’ve sniffed it out before the first report came in, and Lily would’ve twisted it into some breakfast-table drama. I needed to stay quiet and be discreet.
So I dug into the old Rolodex. Contacts from my time in Boston, guys who owed me favors from Chicago, fixers who knew how to disappear, and more importantly, how to find people who had.
“Soft olive-tone skin, long dark hair, brown eyes,” I told one of them. “Mid-twenties. Slim. Foreign accent. Soft.”
It shocked me, how easily the description came out. I hadn’t paid attention when it mattered, but now I could close my eyes and see her clearer than anything else.
“Is she running from something?” the guy asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me.”
The search was slow. Most leads fizzled out. Some weren’t even close. But one night, I got a message from a retired PI out of Albany.
Said a woman matching her description had checked into a small roadside inn two towns over. No ID. Cash only. Stayed a night and left.
I was in the car within ten minutes. The room had already been cleaned, fresh sheets on the bed, no scent of her perfume left behind. But I stood in it anyway, staring at the empty space like it might give me a clue.
Like maybe if I stood still enough, I’d feel the air she breathed.
I was chasing shadows, and meanwhile, Marian was playing a game of her own.
She’d started showing up more. Dropping off coffee on my desk, little notes attached. My favorite lunch, packed neatly in a brown paper bag like we were back in high school and she was trying to impress a crush.
Always with a reason, always with that syrupy, rehearsed smile that made my skin crawl.
“Thought you’d need something warm,” she said one afternoon, setting down a bowl of soup with too much confidence. “You’ve been working so hard.”
I didn’t look at her. Just nudged the bowl to the side and kept typing. She didn’t get the message.
At meetings, she hovered. Stood too close, laughed too loud. Her hand brushed my arm when it didn’t need to. It felt forced, desperate.
One morning, she leaned in during a finance review and whispered, “Landon, baby, let me handle this one.”
The assistant across the table raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. I clenched my jaw and bit back the urge to snap.
But it was the boardroom incident that pushed me over. We were wrapping up a strategy session.
Marian, uninvited, slid in beside me like she belonged there. Smiling like the queen of the damn castle.
“Let’s not stress him out,” she said to the room. “The future Mrs. Remington can handle it.”
The silence that followed was immediate and heavy. I didn’t react, not at first. I just closed my folder, stood up, and walked out. But of course, she followed.
“Landon,” she called out, trying to catch up with me in the hallway.
I stopped, turned around slowly. “Don’t call yourself that again.”
She blinked. “Why not? You don’t see her around, do you?”
I stepped in closer. My voice stayed calm, but it was cold. “This is the last time I’ll say it. Back. Off.”
Marian didn’t flinch, she just tilted her head and kept smiling like I’d complimented her instead of warned her. “I waited while she ran. That should mean something.”
It didn’t.
I didn’t say that out loud. Just stared at her for a second, then turned and walked away. There was no point in wasting more time. I wasn’t looking for comfort, I wasn’t looking for someone to fill the space.
I wanted Emery. My wife, the one I didn’t protect.
The one I didn’t fight for when I should’ve. The one I let slip through the cracks while everyone in this house worked overtime to make her feel small.
And I’d watched it happen, I’d let it. But not anymore, I don’t want a replacement. I want her back.
