His perfect wife

Don't look for me. We're done.

Sebastian had read the note so many times the words no longer looked like words. Just six shapes on crumpled paper, creased where his fist had closed around it.

He smoothed it flat against the table. Read it again.

Behind him, the housemaids stood in a line against the wall, heads lowered, not breathing loud enough to be noticed. Nobody had spoken since he walked in and found the wardrobe half empty and her side of the bed untouched.

Nobody except the glass.

He picked one up from the table and threw it. It shattered against the wall, and one of the younger maids flinched.

"Who touched my things?"

The maids exchanged glances. None of them answered.

He picked up another glass.

"I asked a question."

"Sir-" The youngest one's voice cracked. "I don't know what happened."

He turned to her slowly.

"You don't know."

She shook her head.

He stared at her until she looked down. Then he looked around the room again, his chest rising and falling too fast, and pulled out his phone.

He called Isabella.

Voicemail.

He called again.

Nothing.

"Pick up."

He walked to the window and tried a third time. The city glittered below him, indifferent, and somewhere in it she was walking around with his name on her and no intention of coming back.

Four years. Four years under his roof, his rules. And she had left him a note.

He opened their messages and typed."Where are you?"

He stared at it.

Deleted it.

He wasn't going to beg his own wife to come home.

If Isabella thought she could walk out of his life, she was mistaken. He would find her. He always found what belonged to him.

He just didn't know where she had gone yet.

And for the first time in four years, he had no way of making her do what he wanted.

He didn't know how long he stood at the window.

Long enough for the maids to start breathing again behind him. Long enough for the city to blur into streaks of light he stopped seeing.

Then the memory came - the way it always did when he thought about her. Uninvited. Unwelcome.

---

Three years earlier.

Derrick's residence.

"Sebastian, please!"

Isabella struggled to keep up as he dragged her away from the ballroom. She held the side of her gown with her free hand to keep from tripping.

"Sebastian!"

He released her arm when they reached the courtyard. She stumbled a step, caught herself, and pressed her palm against the spot where his fingers had been.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"What did I do?"

He stared at her like she had embarrassed him on purpose.

"What made you think I brought you here so you could behave however you wanted?"

She looked back towards the ballroom. The guests were still celebrating Derrick's wife's birthday, music spilling out through the open doors, laughter drifting across the courtyard like it belonged to a different evening entirely.

She had spent most of the night trying to make herself small enough to be comfortable. She didn't know these people. She didn't know their rules. She had thought speaking to Mrs. Lisa would make the evening less unbearable.

Instead, it had brought her here.

"I was talking to Mrs. Lisa," she said. "I don't understand why you're angry."

"Mrs. Lisa?" He laughed, and the sound had nothing warm in it. "And what exactly do you think you have in common with her?"

"I was only having a conversation."

"Do you even understand who that woman is? She controls one of the biggest technology empires in this country. She associates with families you can only dream of being part of."

He stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to keep looking at him.

"Comparing you to her is an insult. Know your place, Isabella. You're my wife. Not someone who belongs in her circle."

She looked at him and tried to find the man she had married somewhere in his face. She couldn't.

"Why do you always do this?" she asked. "I didn't ask her for anything. We were just talking."

"I don't care."

"Then why did you bring me here if you don't want me to speak to anyone?"

Something shifted behind his eyes. She saw it happen and knew she should stop.

"Watch what you say to me."

She swallowed. And for the first time in three years, she didn't immediately apologize.

Because she had learned. She had learned to measure every word before she said it. She had learned that a disagreement could ruin an entire evening, and that refusing to follow his instructions could buy her days of insults and accusations and silences that lasted longer than the arguments themselves.

Money had become another leash. He monitored what she spent. He made sure the accounts she needed were always just out of reach without him.

Whenever she thought about leaving, she remembered how little of her own life actually belonged to her.

But tonight, she was tired.

"I've tolerated enough of this," she said. "I came here because you asked me to. I spoke to someone, and you dragged me out like I'd committed a crime."

He stared at her.

"Are you talking back to me?"

"I'm telling you what happened."

"Don't forget who you're talking to."

She looked away. Steadied herself. When she looked back, her voice was quieter - not because she was afraid, but because she had decided something.

"I want to go home."

She turned and walked towards the entrance.

Sebastian watched her go. He couldn't believe she had dared to walk away while he was still speaking.

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time. He had no intention of staying at Derrick's after what had happened.

When he got home, Isabella would explain herself.

He was certain of that.

---

ISABELLA.

Her name echoed through the house when he returned. He slammed the door behind him and loosened his tie.

"Where are you?"

A few seconds later, she appeared at the top of the stairs. She had changed into a red nightgown, her hair loose over her shoulders.

"What?" she asked.

He looked at her in disbelief.

"What do you mean, what? You embarrassed me at Derrick's house, and now you're acting like nothing happened?"

"I didn't embarrass you. I spoke to someone, and you dragged me away in front of everyone."

"You should have known better."

"Known better than what? Talking to another woman?"

"Watch your mouth."

She gripped the railing.

"Or what, Sebastian? What are you going to do? Insult me again? Remind me I don't belong among your friends?"

He walked towards the stairs.

"Have you forgotten who provides everything for you?"

"No. I haven't forgotten. You remind me every day."

The words came out before she could stop them.

He paused on the bottom step.

She had disagreed with him before. But she had always backed down when his anger became too much to manage. Tonight, she wasn't doing that.

He climbed the remaining steps and stopped in front of her.

"Repeat what you just said."

Her fingers tightened on the railing.

"You heard me."

He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her against the wall.

She gasped. Her hands flew to his wrist.

"Sebastian - let me go!"

His grip tightened.

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?"

She clawed at his hand. He was stronger. He was always stronger.

"You're hurting me."

For a moment ,one moment ,something flickered across his face. Then it was gone, and he released her.

She stumbled forward, coughing, both hands at her throat.

He adjusted his shirt.

"Next time, think before you speak to me."

He turned and walked away.

She stayed where she was, trying to breathe. She could hear him moving around their bedroom, opening drawers, behaving like nothing had happened.

She touched her throat.

Something had changed.

She had spent years trying to understand him. Making excuses for him. Convincing herself that if she were only more patient, more careful, more something, things might improve.

But he had just put his hands around her throat because she refused to accept one more insult.

What would happen the next time she disagreed with him?

She didn't have an answer.

Instead of following him into the bedroom, she went downstairs and sat in the living room. She opened Rachael's contact and hovered her thumb over the call button.

She wanted to tell her friend what had happened. But she had hidden so much of her marriage that she didn't know where to start.

After a few seconds, she locked the phone.

Tomorrow. She would speak to Rachael tomorrow.

She couldn't keep pretending everything was fine.

---

Later that night, she returned to the bedroom.

Her eyes settled on the wedding photograph on the wall. She remembered how happy she had been that day. How sure she had been that she had found someone who would love her, protect her, keep her safe.

She walked over and took the photograph down.

Sebastian's smile looked like a stranger's now.

She set it on the dressing table instead of hanging it back up.

Then she opened her wardrobe and looked at her clothes. For the first time, she didn't wonder how to make her marriage work.

She wondered how to leave it.

The thought frightened her. She had no plan. Sebastian had made sure her life depended on him in more ways than she wanted to admit.

But she couldn't ignore what had happened tonight.

She sat on the edge of the bed and took out her phone. This time, she sent Rachael a message.

Can we talk tomorrow?I need your help.

She placed the phone beside her and lay dow

n without waiting for a reply.

She didn't know how she would leave him. Or what he would do when she tried.

But she knew one thing.

She could no longer live as though being his wife gave him the right to hurt her.