CHAPTER ONE — SEPARATION
588 Words
Everything is blurred. Wilson blinked, but the room refused to focus. He stretched his hand toward Ella's side of the bed and found only cool sheets.
"Honey?" His voice cracked. "Honey!"
Silence.
He sat up, confusion sharpening into alarm. Where could she be at six in the morning? He checked the kitchen, the bathroom, the toilet—nothing. The house sat quiet as a graveyard.
Then he saw it. A white envelope on the central table. He hadn't placed it there.
His fingers trembled as he tore it open. A single folded paper inside. His eyes caught the last line first—I'm done —and his legs buckled. He sank onto the couch, barely breathing, and started from the beginning.
"Dear Wilson, I am very grateful for your kindness and love towards me. I appreciate how you have been helping me and caring for me. But I want you to understand that I am not satisfied and that you can never satisfy me. I have found someone else. Please take care of yourself and our daughter. From Ella."
Wilson read it three times. He searched his memory for sins, trespasses, warning signs—found nothing. He called her number. Out of service. He called her parents in Georgia.
"Sir, we haven't heard from Ella in over ten years," her mother said. "Is everything alright?"
He couldn't answer.
"What is happening? How can she just vanish into thin air? What did I do wrong? What—"
"Dad?"
Sonia stood in the doorway, ten years old and blinking with sleep. Wilson shoved the letter into his pocket.
"Dad, why are you sitting here? Where's Mum? Is she making breakfast?"
He lifted her onto his lap. "You woke up early, my darling. How was your night?"
"I slept soundly. Where's Mum?"
"She went out to buy something." The lie tasted like ash. "Don't worry—I'll prepare you for school today."
As she went to bathe, Wilson stared at the empty kitchen. He couldn't let Sonia know. Not yet. Not until he understood the fire that had produced this smoke.
His phone buzzed. Charles, his manager.
"Sir, where are you? The board meeting—you're forty minutes late. They're threatening to adjourn."
Wilson had forgotten. "Represent me. Family emergency at my daughter's school. I'll explain later."
He drove Sonia to school in a daze, then continued to Jesscoll Oil & Gas headquarters in Manhattan. The forty-story glass tower bore his name, yet today it felt like someone else's life. Billionaire. CEO. Global business empire across Germany, Japan, China, Kuwait, South Africa. None of it mattered.
He told Charles. He told the senior staff. They offered sympathy in hushed voices.
"After all the money he spent on her," Jenny whispered to Jude in the corridor. "Heartbreaking."
"She never loved him," Jude replied. "Only the lifestyle."
Charles dismissed them both.
Five months later, the wound hadn't closed. Wilson prepared Sonia's meals, drove her to school, managed household chores, and watched his business attention fragment. Something had to change.
Richard arrived from Georgia on a Friday evening. They sat in Wilson's study, whiskey untouched between them.
"I'm sorry," Richard said. "I still can't believe Ella would—"
"It's in the past." Wilson cut him off. "What brought you to New York?"
"You're drowning, my friend. I see it in your face." Richard leaned forward. "You need help with Sonia. More than a maid—someone permanent."
Wilson stared at him. "You want me to remarry?"
"I want you to survive.”
- Writer
