Chapter 16 The Missing Pages
The next morning, Alexander woke early.
The house was still, wrapped in silence—until the sharp sound of the doorbell rang through it.
His eyes snapped open.
He glanced immediately at Mia, still sleeping peacefully beside him, her breathing soft and steady. Frowning, he reached out and gently covered her ears with his hand, shielding her from the sound. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake.
Satisfied, he slipped out of bed carefully.
He pulled on casual trousers and a T-shirt, movements quick but quiet, then padded downstairs, irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior. He moved fast, determined not to let whoever it was ring again and disturb her sleep.
As he opened the front door, he stopped short.
Sawyer stood outside, dressed neatly in office attire, expression sharp and alert.
Sawyer’s eyes swept over Alexander in one slow, assessing glance.
“Don’t you have work?” Sawyer asked coolly. “What are you doing staying home on a Monday?”
Alexander stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Come in,” he said lightly. “Don’t scold me while standing at the door—you’ll tire yourself out.”
He turned and led the way inside.
Sawyer followed, his gaze sweeping through the living room the moment he crossed the threshold.
His eyes lingered on the high ceilings, the clean lines of the furniture, the quiet luxury woven into every detail.
Nothing was excessive, yet nothing was lacking either.
It was the kind of space that spoke of power without needing to announce it.
“Your house is… quite big,” Sawyer commented, tone neutral but edged with curiosity. After a brief pause, he added, “Bigger than mine.”
Alexander smiled, slow and casual, a trace of smug satisfaction slipping through. “Of course,” he replied lightly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Sawyer continued to look around, his expression unreadable, as though he were silently checking for anything out of place—anything that might suggest neglect.
“I was worried,” he said at last, sounding almost offhand, “that Mia might be living in a small, shabby house. Especially if your family didn’t accept her for coming from a smaller household.”
“My mother gifted Mia six houses,” Alexander said calmly, as though discussing the weather. “Two are in this city. The rest are abroad. I also transferred this house in her name the day we got married.”
Sawyer blinked, then his expression softened a fraction. “Good,” he said. “I like Mrs. Graves. When I meet her, I’ll thank her personally.”
Alexander nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“You can meet her at the party Mia and I will host for our wedding,” he said smoothly. “I’ll make sure it’s grand.”
Sawyer’s gaze flicked back to him, sharper now. “Where is Mia?”
“She’s sleeping,” Alexander answered immediately. His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the firmness beneath it. “I don’t want to wake her.”
Sawyer nodded once. “Good.” Then he straightened slightly, turning fully toward Alexander. “Anyway… I didn’t come to see Mia. I came to talk to you.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on. Do you need help?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone without hesitation. “I can call Allen over immediately. Is this about business or home?”
Sawyer scoffed, bristling. “I don’t need any help. What do you take me for? I’m also very rich, you know.”
Alexander held back a laugh, a low chuckle escaping as he shook his head. “Alright,” he said easily. “Anyway, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, brother-in-law. We’re family.”
Sawyer’s irritation eased slightly, though his eyes remained sharp. “Thanks for the offer,” he said. “And if you ever need help, don’t hesitate to call me either.”
“I won’t,” Alexander replied sincerely, nodding once.
Sawyer shifted, slipping his hands into his pockets. His posture looked casual, but his eyes darkened with intent. “You and Mia,” he said slowly, “you were living separately?”
Alexander stiffened almost imperceptibly. His shoulders straightened, lips pressing into a thin line.
“Not anymore,” he replied evenly. A flash of protectiveness burned in his eyes. “Did she say anything to you?”
“She didn’t say anything,” Sawyer said. “I found out on my own. When she came to live at my house, she didn’t look well. So I had to find out what happened between you two.” His gaze sharpened. “Then I realized she left because she didn’t like something you did.”
The air between them tightened.
Sawyer’s eyes narrowed. “Did you cheat on her?”
“Of course not!” Alexander snapped, the offense clear in his voice. “I love my wife!”
Sawyer let out a slow breath, tension easing slightly. “Good,” he muttered. “That means I don’t have to kill you yet.”
Then his gaze sharpened again. “Did you hit her?”
Alexander stepped closer, his eyes darkening dangerously. “I’m going to hit you if you keep talking,” he growled, every word edged with warning.
Sawyer leaned back, unbothered, his voice lowering. “I just needed to make sure.”
Alexander’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as his gaze sharpened. “It’s between me and my wife,” he said firmly. “I have never done anything to hurt her, nor will I ever. I love her more than anything in this world. I will never cause her harm.”
Sawyer studied him for a long moment. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade completely.
“I had a feeling something bad happened between you and Mia,” he said slowly, choosing his words. “I didn’t know exactly what. I only know you two had a fight. I was worried about her.”
His eyes locked onto Alexander’s. “She doesn’t express things clearly. She keeps things inside. But whatever happens because of you…” he paused deliberately, “affects her too.”
Sawyer exhaled quietly. “When she stayed at my house for those few days, I could tell something was wrong. She acted normal, smiled, talked—but her mind was elsewhere. She was distracted. Pretending everything was fine, but it wasn’t.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of folded papers, slightly crumpled from having been discarded. “I found these under the pillow in her room.”
Alexander took them without a word.
The moment his fingers closed around the papers, recognition struck. His breath stalled. They were pages ripped from Mia’s album.
His eyes dropped to the first page as he unfolded it.
Mia’s handwriting filled the paper—messy, uneven, frantic, as though her thoughts had been racing faster than her hand could follow.
The page held his photograph.
Beneath it, her words were written and rewritten, crossed out and scribbled over:
‘Mr. Graves is not talking to me properly since the last two days. I think I did something wrong, but we never got into a fight… then why—’
The sentence broke off, slashed through violently.
Below it, new lines crowded the page, darker, more desperate:
‘I can’t stop thinking. One question keeps coming back to me again and again… Does Alexander not like me anymore?’
Alexander’s chest tightened painfully.
‘Every time he gets angry with me or suddenly changes the way he treats me, my stomach drops with panic. Maybe something is wrong with me.’
His fingers curled slightly around the paper. The words felt like knives.
‘But every day when he doesn’t look at me, I keep thinking… does he not like me anymore?’
His breathing grew shallow.
‘Should I leave his house? I don’t want to be a burden on him.’
Something inside Alexander cracked.
She hadn’t written our house.
Not once.
At the bottom of the page, in tiny, fragile handwriting were the words:
‘I don’t want to be a burden on anyone ever again.’
Alexander’s chest constricted violently, as if something heavy had slammed into him. His throat tightened, burning. He hadn’t realized—had never imagined—that his silence, his distance, his brief anger could shake her so deeply.
Even after marriage… she still didn’t see his home as hers.
His fingers clenched the paper, knuckles whitening as his heart caved in on itself. Guilt, love, and a crushing grief tangled in his chest, each breath harder than the last.
Then he saw another page.
A photograph.
He recognized it instantly.
It was him—captured from a live news broadcast. The image was slightly blurry, clearly taken from a phone pointed at a television screen. The timestamp was unmistakable.
The date punched him in the gut.
It was after Mia had already left his house.
Beneath the photo, her handwriting trembled:
‘Can love disappear after he is used to having me around?’
Alexander’s pulse thundered in his ears.
‘Or will he remove me from his life after a few years once he realizes I truly don’t bring anything into his life?’
His chest tightened so violently he had to swallow just to breathe.
His hands trembled as he folded the papers carefully. He slid them into his pocket, pressing them close to his body, as though that could somehow protect her from the fears she had poured onto them.
Every muscle in his body was taut. His mind raced, unable to process how deeply her doubts ran—how quietly she had been suffering, alone, while loving him.
He lifted his head at last.
When his eyes met Sawyer’s, they were dark, shaken, and raw with emotion. His voice came out low, unsteady despite his effort to control it.
“Thank you for bringing these to me,” he said sincerely.
Sawyer’s gaze softened just a fraction. His voice dropped, heavy with concern.
“Mia is insecure,” he said plainly. “She doesn’t even trust that you’re going to stay in her life—that you won’t abandon her like James did.”
Alexander stiffened.
“She trusted him,” Sawyer continued, “and it ended in disaster. Then she trusted you. And yet she left your house and came to live at mine.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t know what happened between you two, Alexander. But whatever it was…” he paused, his eyes sharpening, “…it hurt her more than she could bear.”