"Don't do this like it's war."
Daniel's voice came from behind me, low and strained, as I packed a small overnight bag. I didn't turn around. Folding clothes gave my hands something to do besides shake.
"You're the one who turned it into one," I said.
He stood in the doorway, blocking the light. "I'm still your husband."
I zipped the bag halfway, then stopped. "Say it again," I said quietly.
He frowned. "What?"
"That sentence," I replied. "Say it like it still means something."
Silence answered me.
I finished packing.
The house had learned how to hold space between us. Corridors felt longer. Doors closed more softly. Even the air seemed to avoid collision. Daniel had slept in the study for two nights now. I hadn't asked why. He hadn't asked where I went when I left the room.
Distance didn't announce itself. It accumulated.
"I'm not asking you to trust me," he said, stepping aside as I brushed past him. "I'm asking you not to trust her."
Linia's door was open down the hall. Light spilled out, steady and deliberate.
"You're asking too late," I replied.
Downstairs, breakfast waited untouched. Maria stood near the counter, her hands clasped tightly together.
"Madam," she said softly, "will you be back for lunch?"
"I don't know," I said. "Please don't wait."
Linia entered the room as if summoned by her name. She wore a simple dress, hair pulled back, face unreadable.
"You're leaving," she said.
"For a few hours," I replied. "Space."
Daniel scoffed. "From whom?"
I met his gaze. "From you."
The word landed with quiet finality.
Linia stepped closer. "I'll stay."
"I didn't ask you to leave," I said.
Daniel laughed bitterly. "Of course not."
I slung the bag over my shoulder. "I'll be reachable."
"To whom?" he asked.
I paused at the door. "The truth."
The drive felt longer than usual. Traffic lights blurred. My thoughts fractured into pieces I couldn't hold together. Pregnant. Betrayed. Watched. Protected. Threatened.
I parked outside a quiet café and sat there for a moment, engine off, hands resting on my stomach without permission.
"This changes everything," I whispered.
Inside, the café hummed with ordinary life. Laughter. Steam. The sound of cups meeting tables. I ordered tea and chose a corner seat, my back to the wall.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I didn't hesitate this time.
"Yes," I said.
"You left the house," the voice said calmly.
My spine chilled. "You're following me."
"We're observing," the voice corrected. "Distance is useful."
"For whom?" I asked.
"For clarity," the voice replied. "And leverage."
I ended the call without responding.
Moments later, another message arrived.
She's closer than you think.
I looked up sharply.
The café door opened.
Linia stepped inside.
My heart slammed.
She spotted me immediately and crossed the room with measured steps. No panic. No apology.
"You followed me," I said.
"Yes," she replied, sitting across from me without asking.
"That wasn't an invitation."
"No," she said. "It was a risk."
I stared at her. "Why?"
"Because distance is dangerous right now," she said. "And because you're not as alone as they want you to feel."
"They?" I asked.
She leaned in slightly. "You're being tested."
"So are you," I said.
She nodded. "Constantly."
My phone vibrated again.
I didn't look at it.
"They want me to send you away," I said. "Tonight."
Linia's gaze sharpened. "And will you?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
She studied my face. "That's the truth."
"Why are they so invested in you?" I asked. "Why not just me?"
She hesitated.
The smallest delay.
"That's not fair," I said. "You demand honesty. Give it."
She exhaled slowly. "Because I know where bodies are buried."
My pulse quickened. "Metaphorically?"
She met my gaze. "Not always."
The café noise faded around us.
"You're not just reacting," I said. "You're anticipating."
"Yes."
"Because you've seen this before."
Her jaw tightened. "Yes."
"With him?" I asked.
"With men like him," she corrected. "Power doesn't innovate. It repeats."
I swallowed. "Why help me?"
She didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was quieter. "Because you still believe choice matters."
I laughed softly. "I'm not sure that's true anymore."
She leaned back. "Then they're already winning."
My phone buzzed again.
This time, I read it.
Decide by midnight.
A second message followed immediately.
Or the decision will be made for you.
I felt the room tilt.
Linia watched my reaction carefully. "They're escalating."
"Yes."
"Then you can't go back alone," she said.
"I'm not going back at all," I replied.
Her eyes narrowed. "You can't run."
"I can choose where to stand."
She considered that. "Where is that?"
I rose slowly. "Somewhere visible."
When we returned to the estate, the gates opened too quickly.
Daniel stood in the foyer, tense, eyes red with lack of sleep. He looked at Linia, then at me.
"So," he said. "You're together now."
I dropped my bag by the door. "Stop narrating."
He stepped closer. "They called me."
My chest tightened. "Who?"
"The board," he said. "And someone else."
Linia stiffened.
"They told me to convince you," Daniel continued. "To separate us."
"Us?" I echoed.
"You and her," he clarified. "Before things get… complicated."
"And did you?" I asked.
He hesitated.
That hesitation burned.
Linia spoke softly. "You should tell her."
Daniel closed his eyes. "They've opened an investigation."
My heart pounded. "Into what?"
"Your mental fitness," he said. "Emergency motion. They're using the pregnancy."
The room went silent.
"You told them," I said.
"I didn't," he insisted. "But someone did."
I turned slowly toward Linia.
She didn't look surprised.
"I didn't say anything," she said carefully. "But I warned you this would happen."
"You knew," I whispered.
"I anticipated," she replied. "There's a difference."
My phone buzzed.
One final message.
Midnight is approaching.
I looked at Daniel. Then at Linia.
"You both kept secrets," I said. "Now I choose."
Daniel stepped forward. "Isabella, please."
Linia remained still. "Whatever you decide, it will cost you."
I inhaled deeply.
"Pack your things," I said.
Daniel's face fell. "You're sending her away."
I looked at Linia.
"No," I said quietly. "I'm leaving."
The words echoed through the house.
Daniel shook his head. "You can't."
"I can," I replied. "And I will."
Linia's eyes widened—for the first time.
"You're choosing exile," she said.
"I'm choosing control," I replied.
The clock chimed softly in the distance.
Midnight.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Too late.
The lights flickered once.
Then went out.
And in the darkness, I understood—
Distance wasn't just growing between us.
It had become a weapon.
And someone had just pulled the trigger.