Not My Wife

POV GARRETT.

I loosened my dark silk tie and yanked it from my collar. I let out a ragged breath as I walked through the cavernous hallways of my home. The long, stressful day had drained me, leaving an empty ache in my bones. My exhausted thoughts remained tangled, replaying the explosive argument I had with Cassia earlier. My temples throbbed with a relentless pain. We had shouted until our throats were raw, trading bitter accusations until the air in the room felt toxic. I could still see the profound hurt flashing in her eyes before I stormed out to head to the office.

The reality that a reckless choice Kendra and I made right before my wedding resulted in the birth of Micah was still hard to process. I dragged a heavy hand down my face, feeling the rough stubble along my jawline. Micah is an incredible boy. He has my eyes, my stubborn chin, and he looks at me with a desperate need for a father. But his sudden presence in my home is a storm threatening to sink my marriage.

I just want Cassia to see the bigger picture and accept him. This is not about my past with Kendra anymore. This is about a young child who needs his family. I need my wife to stand by my side and weather this crisis together. But she is acting headstrong and stubborn, as she always does. She wants the world to bend to her perfect vision, and right now, my son does not fit into that neat little box.

Mentally replaying the fight as I climbed the grand marble staircase, a fresh wave of guilt crashed over me. I realized that signing those divorce papers earlier had been a huge mistake. I stopped on the landing, staring blankly at the polished floor. It was a frustrated overreaction to her using the threat of divorce as a manipulative weapon against me. Every time we hit a difficult wall in our marriage, she threw that word in my face, testing my limits. Today, the sheer exhaustion and the crushing pressure had finally snapped my patience. I signed the documents purely to shock her, to call her bluff and force her to stop running away from our problems.

I never planned to file them. My chest tightened painfully at the thought of losing her. I rubbed the back of my neck, hoping we had both finally cooled off by now. I slowly returned to our master bedroom, ready to sit down, swallow my pride, and talk without all the yelling. We needed a reset. We needed to figure this mess out.

I pushed the heavy oak door open. The bedroom lights were on, casting a warm glow across the massive space. To my immediate relief, my eyes darted to the glass table, and the signed divorce papers were gone. She must have taken them. She must have realized how stupid we were both being.

A surge of hope lifted the crushing weight off my shoulders. I stepped further onto the plush carpet.

"Cassia—" I called out, my voice softening, ready to offer an olive branch and fix this.

The silver handle of the attached bathroom clicked loudly. The door slowly swung open, letting out a thick cloud of warm steam. But the person who stepped out wasn't my wife.

It was Kendra.

She wore nothing but a soft, white bathrobe that barely reached her mid-thigh. Her wet hair framed her pale face, water droplets glistening on her collarbones. My sudden hope vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold shock. My jaw clenched tight as I stared at her damp footprints on the hardwood floor.

"Kendra, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sharper and more defensive than I intended.

She jumped slightly, clutching the lapels of the robe together. She gave me a nervous, sweet smile, blinking up at me through her wet lashes.

"I saw the maid cleaning the guest rooms earlier," she explained, her tone soft and breathy. "I offered to help tidy up. I got so sweaty from all the dusting, so I decided to take a quick shower in here. I didn't think you would be back so soon."

I turned my head and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. The glowing red numbers read 11:45 PM. It was nearly midnight. Frowning, I looked back at her. Her flimsy excuse was hard to believe. Why would she be cleaning the house at this hour? Why would she use my private master bathroom instead of the massive one located in her own guest suite? The glaring inconsistencies stared me right in the face, but my head was pounding too fiercely to handle another screaming match tonight. I pushed my growing doubts aside to avoid another conflict.

"Kendra, you didn't need to do that. I have paid staff to handle the cleaning," I said firmly, keeping my distance.

She shrugged her shoulders, letting the robe slip a fraction of an inch down her smooth skin.

"I wanted to help. It is my way of saying thank you for all you have done—for me and Micah."

An uncomfortable tension tightened my chest, making the air in the room feel heavy. I narrowed my eyes, rejecting the implication that she owed me anything for doing the bare minimum as a father.

"Micah is my son, Kendra. Taking care of him is my responsibility, not something you need to thank me for."

Stepping closer, her bare feet padding silently across the rug, her gaze lingered on me. The atmosphere shifted into something inappropriate. She slowly reached out her hand, her damp fingers aiming to touch the center of my chest.

I instinctively stepped back, putting a solid yard of distance between us. Her hand froze in mid-air.

Her pale face flushed deeply, a dark red blooming across her cheeks as she pulled her hand back.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to overstep. Please forgive me," she stammered, offering a frantic apology.

"You don't need to apologize," I stated firmly, setting a hard boundary right then and there. "But you should leave my room right now. Cassia won't like it if she sees you here, and I don't want her to get the wrong idea."

Looking dejected, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She nodded silently, pulling the robe tighter around her body. She brushed past me without making eye contact, heading straight for the hallway door. The faint scent of her vanilla shampoo lingered in the air long after the heavy door clicked shut behind her.

Exhausted and frustrated, I let out a long breath and dragged both hands through my hair. The headache was back with a vengeance. I glanced at the clock again. It was now well past midnight. A dark realization pierced through my fatigue, freezing the blood in my veins.

If Kendra had been comfortable enough to wander in here and shower, taking her time to wash her hair and lounge around in a bathrobe, it meant Cassia had not returned to our room for a long while.

Where could she possibly be?

A deep unease settled in the center of my chest. The sprawling house was dead silent. I pulled my cell phone from my trouser pocket and dialed her number, pressing the cold speaker against my ear. I expected it to ring a few times before going to voicemail, or for her to pick up with a sharp greeting.

Instead of the line connecting, a faint, familiar ringtone echoed from inside the room.

Frowning, I lowered my phone and scanned the space. The muffled pop melody was coming from Cassia's side of the bed. I walked over and pulled open the bedside nightstand drawer. My stomach dropped straight to the floor. I found her phone lying there on top of a stack of magazines. The screen was lighting up in the dark drawer with my incoming call.

"Damn it, Cassia," I muttered under my breath. Frustration and agonizing worry twisted together in my gut.

She had actually left the house without her phone? That wasn't like her at all. Cassia was glued to that device, always checking emails or texting her friends. For her to leave it behind meant she was either in a blind rush, or she purposely wanted to disappear off the grid. The massive city outside was dark and dangerous at this hour. She had no way to call for a ride, no way to pay for a hotel, and no way to contact anyone for help.

My grip tightened around her glowing phone until my knuckles turned white. The bitter argument from earlier slammed back into my mind. I had pushed her too far. I had broken her trust, and then I had practically handed her the loaded gun of those signed divorce papers. Now she was out there, alone and vulnerable in the middle of the night.

Wherever she was, I needed to find her.