Chapter 12 Sylvia
He blinked harder. His chest tightened painfully.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
“No… Fuck!” He shot to his feet so quickly he nearly lost his balance.
He staggered forward, nearly losing his balance before steadying himself against the wall.
His hands moved frantically over the screen as he dialed Timothy’s number.
It rang.
And rang.
No answer.
“Pick up…” Magnus cursed under his breath and dialed again. He was already moving, grabbing his shoes and shoving his feet into them without even tying the laces.
No answer.
On the third call—
Timothy finally answered.
“Mr. Graves?” his voice was groggy from sleep.
“You were at my house last night,” Magnus said sharply, his voice hoarse and breathless as he rushed toward the door.
“Yes, sir. I came to drop you off—”
Magnus cut him off.
“What were you saying about Sophia? About her flight?”
There was a pause on the other end.
Then Timothy’s careful voice came through.
“Her flight was scheduled to depart at 4. It’s 5 AM now.”
The words hit like a punch to the chest.
Magnus froze in the doorway.
“What the fuck is wrong with your fucking head, TImothy?! Why didn’t you take me to her?!”
His voice cracked as he barked into the phone, already shoving the front door open so hard it hit the wall. He barely felt the sting in his palm. His chest was tight, his breath uneven, his heart slamming painfully against his ribs as he rushed outside.
He didn’t even lock the door.
His steps were frantic, almost stumbling as he sprinted toward his car. His vision blurred, hands trembling so badly he nearly dropped the phone.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about it?” he roared again, voice shaking. “You should have told me!”
“I did tell you, Mr. Graves,” Timothy answered, his voice confused and slightly panicked. “You were the one who said not to talk about it. You said not to mention Mrs. Graves again — that you don’t have any feelings for her anymore.”
Magnus went rigid.
“I tried to convince you last night,” Timothy continued, almost defensively. “But you wouldn’t listen. You told me to leave. You said you don’t care about her anymore.”
Magnus ripped the car door open. He slid inside and slammed it shut so hard the sound echoed in the quiet morning air.
“You’ve lost your mind!” Magnus snapped, his breathing turning ragged. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. “When did I say I don’t care about her?”
His chest rose and fell violently. He couldn’t even get a proper breath in.
He threw the phone onto the passenger seat without waiting for another word and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life.
Within seconds, the car shot forward.
He drove like a madman.
His foot pressed hard against the accelerator as he sped down the main road. The early morning streets were mostly empty, only a few scattered vehicles in the distance. The sky was still pale, the city half asleep — but his world felt like it was collapsing.
His jaw clenched. His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel.
The car screeched as he slammed the brakes at the airport entrance. He barely shut the door before running inside, his coat flaring behind him.
His heart pounded violently in his chest as his eyes scanned the terminal.
He searched every face, every corner.
Nothing.
No sign of Sophia.
He turned in circles, searching every direction as if she might suddenly appear. His breath came fast and shallow.
He dragged a rough hand through his hair, fingers gripping the strands hard enough to hurt. His jaw flexed. His entire body felt tense, wired, like it was about to snap.
He rushed toward the inquiry counter.
“There was a 4 A.M. flight to London,” he said urgently, leaning forward, palms flat against the counter. “Did it leave already?”
“Yes, sir,” the woman replied politely. “There was a flight at 4 A.M. It departed on time.”
Magnus went completely still.
All the air seemed to leave his lungs at once.
The noise of the airport seemed to fade into nothing. A sharp ringing filled his ears as his heartbeat pounded aggressively against his ribs. He gripped the edge of the counter to steady himself, his fingers digging into the surface as if it were the only thing holding him upright.
She left.
He stood there in silence, staring blankly ahead, his mind numb.
After standing there in silence for what felt like forever, he pulled out his phone with shaking fingers and called his mother.
The line rang only twice before she answered.
“What?” Camila’s voice came sharp and clipped.
“Mom,” Magnus said, his voice low and strained. “Is Sophia gone? Did she leave?”
“Yes,” Camila replied in a cold voice. “I went to the airport to see her off myself. Her father had already left the country two days ago. He said he was expanding their business overseas. Sophia was all alone when she left.”
Magnus closed his eyes, guilt filling his chest.
Then Camila’s voice shifted — softer, but heavy with disappointment.
“I had to send her away by myself,” Camila said, her voice thick with restrained anger. “Even though she didn’t ask about you, I could see it in her eyes. She kept looking around… probably hoping you’d show up.”
Magnus’s grip on the phone tightened.
“You were married for three months, Magnus. That’s not a short time. It’s fine if you didn’t want her as your wife. But you didn’t even bother to come and see her off one last time?”
Camila exhaled sharply.
“I’m very disappointed in you. I knew you never wanted to get married, but I never imagined you would treat Sophia like this. If I had known it would turn out this way, I would never have forced this marriage.”
Before he could respond, the line went dead.
The loud beep echoed in his ear.
The phone slowly lowered from his face, his hand falling limply to his side. His heartbeat spiked violently, pounding against his ribs as if trying to break free.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe, but the air felt too thin. His hand pressed against his chest as if he could physically calm the chaos inside.
She was looking for him.
Looking around.
Waiting.
His jaw clenched painfully.
He turned his head toward the large glass windows overlooking the runway. Flights lined up in the distance, engines roaring, planes ascending into the pale morning sky
A second later, his expression hardened.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
A dark, determined expression settled over his face, anger simmering beneath the surface as he growled under his breath, “So what if you left? Go wherever you want.” His jaw clenched. “I’ll still bring you back.”
He unlocked his phone and dialed Timothy immediately.
The call connected.
“Mr. Graves?” Timothy answered, his tone cautious.
“Find out where Sophia is,” Magnus ordered, his voice cold and tight. “I want her exact address. I’m leaving for London right now.”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
“Mr. Graves…” Timothy hesitated. “That’s the problem. There’s no trace of Mrs. Graves since she entered the airport. Not even the flight number.”
Magnus’s brows snapped together.
“What do you mean no trace?”
“The records confirm she will land in London,” Timothy continued, tension creeping into his tone.
“But after that, there’s no address. No hotel bookings under her name.
I’ve checked major hotels, private residences, business contacts — there’s nothing.
It’s like she disappears once she lands in London. ”
The words made Magnus go completely still.
His body, already tense, turned rigid as stone.
The panic he had been suppressing came crashing back into his chest with brutal force.
Disappears?
His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. A sharp headache pulsed behind his eyes, as if nails were being hammered into his skull.
His breathing turned shallow.
“Keep looking,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t care how. Find her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Magnus ended the call.
For a moment, he just stood there in the middle of the airport, surrounded by strangers, announcements echoing overhead, luggage wheels rolling past.
But he felt completely alone.
Then abruptly, he roughly shoved the phone into his pocket and stormed toward the exit.
Every step he took away from the building grew faster. So did the worry clawing at his chest.
By the time he reached his car, his pulse was racing uncontrollably. He slid into the driver’s seat, hands shaking as they gripped the steering wheel. For a moment, he just sat there, chest heaving.
Then he tightened his hold on the wheel and twisted the key. The car roared to life.
He pulled out aggressively, tires screeching as he sped down the road. The pounding in his head intensified, throbbing behind his eyes. The pain became so sharp that he squeezed his eyes shut for a split second.
When he opened them again, nothing had changed.
He shut his eyes again, hoping for calm, but the pounding behind his eyes multiplied tenfold, unbearable, and his fingers curled into the leather so tightly it threatened to tear it.
And then, in that fleeting, desperate moment of blindness, he didn’t see the sharp turn ahead.
The next second, the world exploded.
The car veered off course and slammed violently into a concrete wall.
The crash shattered the early morning silence.
Metal crumpled. Glass exploded. A deafening horn blared continuously.
The car flipped.
The world outside twisted and swayed, distorted through cracked glass.
When everything finally stilled, Magnus remained strapped into his seat.
Blood streamed down from his head, staining his collar. It trickled from his hands, smeared across the steering wheel. His body hung limp, surrounded by the wreckage.
***
Two Years Later
Sophia stepped into the familiar house, her steps slower than usual as the wheels of her suitcase rolled softly behind her. The scent of the place — warm wood and something faintly floral — wrapped around her like an old memory.