The Boss Wants Me Back

I lost my son when a reckless carriage struck me on the old trade route while I was returning from the family gathering. The shock sent me straight to the doctor’s quarters, and the child I carried did not survive the blood loss. Today marked the second month since the funeral rites, and Darian had agreed to accompany me to the Don’s private clinic for my checkup.

When he offered a hasty excuse and turned to leave, I didn’t stop him. I no longer clutched at his coat or begged him to stay by my side like I once had, in the days when loyalty and affection bound us tightly.

Watching his back fade into the shadows of the alleyway, a strange calm settled over me. It was as if the invisible chain that had tethered my heart to his had finally slackened. I realized then that whether he stood near or far no longer stirred my blood as it once did. His absence no longer cut me the way it used to.

A young medic called my name, and I accepted the prescribed remedies and the Don’s counsel in silence before making my way back alone through the empty streets.

Not long after, a courier arrived with a note. It read: Liora, return to the estate on your own. I have urgent matters to handle within the family.

In earlier days, I would have sent a frantic message through our network, demanding he come for me, begging for his company. Now, such words felt hollow—wasted breath fading in the night air. I replied simply, Very well.

I left the clinic grounds and hired a carriage back to the estate. As we passed the river bend, I caught sight of Darian’s horse tied near the old oak, inexplicably waiting. Strange—had he not claimed he couldn’t escort me?

When I reached the estate, a notice pinned in the hall caught my eye. Selara had tagged him in her message: “Just a mild fever, yet he insisted on bringing me to the doctor and has stayed by my side ever since. After everything, you’re still my truest protector.”

Selara Davis—his childhood ally. Years ago, she left our territory to marry a wealthy lord in the mountains. Last winter, fortune turned against her; her husband ruined, the marriage dissolved, and she returned with a young child.

In Darian’s eyes, I had always been the one to fill the space Selara left behind. I knew this long before I pledged myself to him under the family seal. Back then, I had loved him fiercely and bound myself to his house with a solemn oath.

Once, I dreamed of bearing his heir, strengthening our lineage. But the loss of my son felt like a message from fate—perhaps a child tied to Darian would never have thrived under our watch.

After taking the doctor’s draught, sleep claimed me. Deep into the night, the door creaked open.

“What did the Don’s counsel reveal today?” Darian asked quietly, stepping close, brushing a hand across my hair.

A foreign scent lingered on him—a trace of another woman’s perfume, subtle but unmistakable. I turned my face away, refusing his touch in silence.

“Nothing of concern,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “I am well.”

Darian nodded. “The family required my presence. Business became urgent.”

I didn’t challenge him. I rolled onto my side, closing my eyes. “Then wash away the day’s dealings before resting.”

For a moment, he hesitated. He said nothing. Soon after, I heard the basin fill and water splash—he washing himself in silence, a ritual of order in the chaos of our lives.