Chapter 84: Chapter 84 The Things I Did Not See

Renzo’s POV

When we left Jade’s room that evening, something inside me did not settle.

Ronan walked ahead, his jaw tight. Ryder stayed unusually quiet beside me. None of us spoke as we returned to our wing.

We had held her.

We had promised her.

We had told her we were there for her.

And yet, as her door closed behind us, I felt like we had just left something unfinished.

“She looked fragile,” Ryder muttered finally.

“She is pregnant,” Ronan replied. “She is probably tired.”

I said nothing.

Fragile was not the word I would use.

She had looked calm.

Too calm.

And that unsettled me more than anything

All day, I tried to drown the feeling in work.

Our father had summoned us for meetings with regional enforcers. There were border tensions to address, supply negotiations to finalize, a dispute between two families that required intervention.

I sat at the long conference table, listening to voices rise and fall around me.

Maps were spread out.

Reports were presented.

Numbers were discussed.

But my mind kept drifting back to Jade.

The way she had melted into our arms.

The way she had gone quiet after.

The way her eyes had looked distant even while she was standing right in front of me.

“Renzo.”

I blinked and looked up.

My father was staring at me.

“Yes?”

“You are not paying attention.”

“I am,” I lied.

He studied me for a moment, then continued speaking about border patrol rotations.

Later, while Ryder debated logistics with one of the officials, I leaned back in my chair and exhaled slowly.

Something was off.

It was not just the situation with Linda.

It was not just the accusations.

It was Jade.

I had known her long enough to recognize her storms.

She burned when she was angry.

She broke when she was hurt.

She fought when she felt cornered.

But yesterday and today, she had gone quiet.

And quiet scared me.

By the end of all the meetings, exhaustion had settled over all of us.

Ronan was tense.

Ryder was restless.

I was distracted.

When we finally returned to our wing after dinner, I almost went straight to Jade’s room again.

But I stopped myself.

We had already reassured her.

We needed to give her space.

That was what I told myself.

That night, I could not sleep.

I lay on my back staring at the ceiling while the room remained dark and silent.

But my mind would not rest.

Images replayed in my head.

Jade’s trembling hands.

Her voice when she said Linda had threatened her.

The doubt that flickered in my own chest when she said it.

Guilt tightened in my stomach.

Had we failed her?

I turned onto my side and shut my eyes.

Still nothing.

Finally, I gave up.

I slipped out of bed quietly and left the room.

The hallway was dimly lit. Guards were stationed at the far end, murmuring softly to one another.

I walked past them with a nod and headed toward the main staircase.

A night walk usually helped clear my thoughts.

I had just reached the corner when I saw movement ahead.

A small figure near the staircase.

Carrying something.

I slowed.

It was Jade.

She was moving carefully, almost silently, one hand gripping the railing.

And there was a bag slung over her shoulder.

My heart jumped.

“Jade?”

She froze.

Slowly, she turned around.

The look on her face made my chest tighten.

She looked startled.

Almost guilty.

“Renzo,” she said quickly. “You scared me.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, stepping closer.

“I was just going for a walk,” she replied.

“At this hour?”

She hesitated.

The bag on her shoulder shifted slightly.

“What is in the bag?” I asked gently.

She swallowed.

“It is just some of my mother’s belongings.”

Something in her voice softened when she said that.

“I have been missing her a lot,” she continued, eyes lowering. “I thought maybe I could go to our old room in the servant quarters. Just for tonight. Maybe if I sit there for a while. Maybe if I sleep there. I might feel closer to her.”

My chest tightened painfully.

Of course.

After the honeymoon, after her mother’s death, everything had spiraled.

Maybe she just needed something familiar.

“I should have thought of that,” I said quietly.

She shook her head quickly. “It is not your fault.”

“It feels like it is,” I admitted.

She looked up at me then.

The dim hallway light reflected in her eyes.

“I am trying,” I continued. “We are all trying. But after we came back from the honeymoon and everything happened with your mother... it has been one thing after another. I know it has not been easy for you.”

Her lips pressed together.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I hate that you are carrying all this stress while pregnant,” I said. “I hate that we could not give you peace.”

Her eyes softened slightly.

“You are doing your best,” she said.

“I want to do better,” I replied.

Silence lingered between us for a moment.

Then I nodded toward the staircase.

“I will walk with you.”

Her head snapped up. “No, you do not have to.”

“I want to.”

“It is just a short walk,” she insisted. “You should rest.”

“I was not sleeping anyway,” I said lightly. “And I do not like the idea of you wandering alone this late.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, then closed it.

“Fine,” she said softly.

We descended the staircase together.

The mansion was quiet at night, the kind of quiet that makes every footstep echo.

As we walked through the lower corridor toward the servant quarters, I studied her from the corner of my eye.

She held the bag tightly.

Too tightly.

“You know,” I said gently, “we meantt what we said earlier.”

She looked up at me.

“We are here for you,” I continued. “Even when things are complicated. Even when we do not have all the answers.”

“I know,” she said.

But there was something in her voice that made me wonder if she truly believed that.

When we reached the servant quarters hallway, the air felt different.

Quieter.

We stopped in front of the small door that used to belong to her and her mother.

She stood still for a moment, staring at it.

“I will wait outside,” I offered.

She shook her head. “No. I want to be alone here.”

I hesitated.

“You are sure?”

“Yes.”

Her voice was soft but firm.

I stepped closer and pulled her gently into my arms.

She melted into me instantly.

I wrapped one hand around her back and placed the other over her stomach.

“Our baby,” I murmured quietly. “I am going to make everything better for both of you. I promise.”

Her fingers tightened in my shirt.

For a moment, she held on like she did not want to let go.

Then she slowly pulled back.

I brushed a strand of hair from her face and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Call me if you need anything,” I said.

“I will.”

I lingered for one more second before stepping back.

She opened the door and slipped inside.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door.

Something still felt off.

But I told myself she just needed space.

Grief did not follow logic.

After a while, I turned and walked back down the hallway, the echo of my footsteps following me into the night.