Page 77 of Punishing His Runaway Bride

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It lay there quietly, crumpled in a heap.

Then I bent down again. Picked it up.

Clutched it in my hand.

All my fault.

I drove her away.

Her pale face floated into my mind, and that thin body, so weak a gust of wind could blow her away.

Like that, where could she go?

My fingers twitched nervously. I clenched them into a fist, pressed them into my palm. I took a deep breath, forced myself to calm down, called Carlo.

"Find out where Olivia Adrian went. All surveillance, all records, all possible routes—I want to know where she is now."

I paused, added. "Also, check on Susan Adrian. See if she's been in contact with Olivia recently."

"Yes, boss."

I hung up, stood in her room, clutching that sweater.

Five hours. Enough time for her to leave this city, even this country.

I closed my eyes.

All I could see was her face.

That pale, gaunt face with nothing in those eyes.

I remembered last night, when she said, "I hate you," that look in her eyes.

I remembered her turning away those two inches.

I remembered when she asked, "Am I your wife or your tool?" that voice.

All my fault.

I pushed her away.

I hurt her.

I—

"Ezio?" A soft female voice came.

My heart stopped for an instant. I opened my eyes and turned sharply, but the moment I saw who it was, quickly regained composure.

Bianca was carrying a tray with a cup of coffee on it.

"Ezio." She came in, voice gentle and proper, face showing just the right amount of concern. "I heard something happened. Are you okay?"

I didn't speak.

She put the coffee on the table, turned around, looked at me with worry.

"She left?" She asked, regret in her tone. "I heard she left this morning. The guard said she had a suitcase, left in a hurry..."

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