Adam didn't call Sofia's number. Not even once.
Though her name glowed softly on his screen—silent and waiting, like a question he couldn't bring himself to answer.
She had called him once. Hours ago. But he hadn't answered.
Caiden had already briefed him—told him everything. Raymond had taken Sofia. Personally. Discreetly. She had packed nothing. Left no message. Vanished like a ghost trying to outrun her own heartbreak.
Adam had let it happen without protest.
He had told his security to pull back—knowing Raymond had more than enough men to guard what Adam was too cowardly to hold on to.
That thought alone should have gutted him.
But it didn't.
Instead, what he felt was worse.
A sick, unrelenting hollowness. A twisted relief that he didn't have to face her eyes again—that wide, fragile gaze that had once looked at him like he was everything. Now, she could barely meet his stare.
She had stopped fighting for him.
And the terrifying part?
He didn't blame her.
