After dressing himself, Nathaniel came to the dining area.
"Mrs. Jules, serve my breakfast," he called casually, already settling down.
He scanned the empty table, his eyes narrowing. No newspaper.
"Mrs. Jules," he called again, this time with a little edge, "where is my newspaper?"
"Yes, sir—right away," the housekeeper called from the kitchen, rushing in a moment later and placing it before him.
He grabbed it, unfolded it, and opened his mouth again. "Coffee. Bring it now."
"Coming, sir." She disappeared and returned moments later with a cup of steaming coffee.
Nathaniel lifted it, brought it to his lips, and took a sip. The taste hit him immediately. His lips tightened at the bitterness as he forced himself to swallow it.
"Mrs. Jules!" he barked, putting the cup down with a sharp clink.
She rushed over, anxious. "Yes, sir?"
"What is it? Why does it taste off?"
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, flustered. "Madam always made your coffee. I'm not sure how you like it…but I'll do my best to learn."
Nathaniel said nothing. He sat there, silent, as the bitterness of the coffee lingered on his tongue along with the realization that Zara's absence was beginning to leave a bitter taste in more ways than one.
"Madam did this, madam did that… sounds like Zara ran this entire house by herself from waking me up to feeding me," Nathaniel grunted with irritation. "What were you doing all these years?"
He shoved the newspaper aside in a burst of frustration. "Just give me the damn breakfast. I'm already late."
"Yes, sir… right away," Mrs. Jules said, retreating hastily.
"And take this terrible coffee away," he added with a snarl, pushing the cup away.
She picked it up and hurried into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with a tray carrying croissants, toast, and a plate of muffins, along with a tall glass of green apple juice.
Nathaniel's eyes flicked to the tray. The familiar dark chocolate muffins caught his attention. He liked muffins. The bitterness seemed to disappear a bit.
He picked one up, took a bite, and paused. The taste wasn't bad, but it wasn't right. Something was missing. His brows drew together in a displeased frown as he looked up.
Mrs. Jules stiffened under his cold gaze.
"Don't tell me Zara used to bake muffins for me too," he said lowly.
She hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. "I can't lie. She knew how much you liked them. She always made them fresh in the mornings if you were having a long day…"
Before she could finish, Nathaniel gave a short, bitter laugh. "Of course she did."
He had been completely unaware of all that Zara had done over the past five years to make his life easier. But in just a single day, he came to understand how deeply her presence had become woven into every part of his daily routine.
He shook his head, scoffing under his breath. "Zara… You're trying to paralyze me without you. But it won't work."
He stood abruptly and walked away.
"Sir, you haven't touched your breakfast," Mrs. Jules called after him gently.
But Nathaniel didn't look back. He didn't stop. He simply walked out the door.
As Nathaniel drove through the bustling city streets, he dialed Zara's number, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel. The ring went on and on. Just when he thought she wouldn't answer, the call connected.
"Hello?" Her voice was cold, devoid of the warmth and affection he had grown used to.
A sardonic smile tugged at his lips. "So, you finally decided to pick up. I called last night, and you ignored it."
"I was tired. I went to bed early," she responded flatly. "Didn't hear the ring."
He scoffed. "Tired? Maybe because you are busy doing things that don't concern you. Why did you leave the house? I never told you to leave. And what the hell were you thinking, sending Zane to the mansion? You didn't even discuss it with me. Have you thought about how that affects him?"
There was a stretch of silence on the other end before she spoke again. "We are getting divorced." Her voice was even colder than before. "Staying in that house made no sense. And I didn't want Zane to suffer through the tension between us. At least at your mother's place, he'll feel normal. Don't worry. He is mature enough to understand if we explain things properly."
Nathaniel's foot slammed on the brakes. The car jerked to a stop in the middle of the street. His chest tightened at the prospect that Zara had already told Zane about their divorce.
"You told him?" he barked.
"No," Zara said with a sigh. "I wanted to… but I couldn't."
Nathaniel felt a wave of relief wash over him. Zara hadn't told Zane yet. He knew how close the boy was to her. Hearing about the divorce would break him, and Nathaniel still hadn't figured out how to cushion that blow.
"Don't tell him yet," he said, this time softly. "Let's take things slow… Come home. I need to talk to you."
"I'm not going back there."
Her words hit him like a slap. For a moment, he was stunned into silence.
This was the same woman who once bent over backward to make him happy, who smiled through his indifference, who called that house her sanctuary. And now… she didn't even want to return.
"I have nothing to talk to you about," she went on. "I've already accepted the divorce. I don't want anything from you. I told your assistant. Just send the agreement, and I'll sign it."
Anger flared in his chest. "Can you stop this nonsense?" he snapped. "If you think the alimony I offered isn't enough, just say it. Add whatever amount you want—I don't care. But don't try to pull this emotional stunt."
"A stunt?" Zara's voice exploded through the phone. "You think this is a stunt? You think I'm doing this for money?"
"Don't you?" he shot back bitterly. "You spent a fortune on your family these last five years. If I actually took the time to count, I'm sure it's crossed a billion. And now you claim you don't need money? How do you expect me to buy that?"
A silence filled with disbelief, pain, and the widening rift between them.
Nathaniel shifted in his seat, his lips parting slightly, finally realizing he shouldn't have said that. He hadn't meant to be cruel. It just slipped out in the heat of the moment. He licked his lips, searching for the right words to apologize.
Before he could speak, her voice came through. "Thanks for your generosity. But I no longer want your money."
"Zara—" he started.
Beep.
The abrupt disconnection jolted him. He stared at his phone, befuddled. "She hung up on me," he muttered as if it were the most unbelievable thing in the world.
A scowl darkened his features, and he clenched the phone tightly in his hand. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Frustrated, he jabbed at the screen and called Roberto.
The moment the call connected, he barked a command, "Find out where Zara is. Now."