I tap my foot on the edge of my office chair while my fingers hammer away at the keyboard in an attempt to get all my work completed. My eyes wander towards the entrance as I recognize Harry walk in.

He doesn't give me the brief smile he normally does, instead, he blinks at me as though he's empty. Empty to the point I can't read what's going through his mind.

He places a file on my desk before taking a breath, "until Niall gets out of the meeting you're in charge. You can stay in my office if you like." His voice is brief and rough, it isn't charming and sweet as usual.

If I didn't know any better I'd say he was using his CEO tone with me– something he only does if we aren't alone or if he's pissed off and doesn't know how to channel the anger somewhere else.

I nod, "You okay? You seem tense," I softly point out, attempting to read his eyes that seem to give me nothing. Not even the slightest twinkle of light and joy.

They're sullen.

Harry nods his head, "I'm fine, just sore," he responds and I can tell he's lying, I know when his eyes are laced with physical pain and right now that isn't the case. I know him well enough to know.

I cock my head to the side and raise a brow. He knows I'm not convinced, he may be of a unique character right now, but he isn't stupid, "I'll see you at home, Elle."

"Harry," I stand to my feet and shuffle around my desk to stand in front of him, "what's the matter?"

"Elle, please," he sighs, "Jus' running a few errands before going home and relaxing, don't feel the best... make sure the portfolios are completed before you leave, please." Harry gestures towards the files he placed on my desk and I nod my head.

"Drive safe, I love you," I lean up and kiss the edges of his lips.

"Mhm," Harry hums before stepping away from me and shuffling out of my office.

I sit in Harry's office and ponder over the fact Harry doesn't seem himself, the man is a workaholic, he never leaves work early without a significant reason. Once again he is closing himself off to me and I can't help him when he does it. Ever since the accident he has been more closed off, it's as though he doesn't want to relive certain experiences he may have gone through with the process of the accident. I understand things are rough, but I'm starting to feel as though he's shoving me away.

I thought he had learned his lesson by pushing people away to protect himself, but I guess not.

I heavily sigh as I caress my cheek to rest in the palm of my hand while Niall wanders in. He grants me his sweet smile that brightens the dreary office.

"You don't look cheery," Niall pouts, "do I need to like round everyone up in the office and have a stern talking to with whoever made you gloomy?" Niall challenges with a petite smile and sea rover-blue eyes.

I give him a chuckle and shake my head, "lining them up sounds like an assassination," I giggle.

Niall shrugs, "anythin' for Harry's missus, you're his world."

I roll my eyes and scoff softly, "yeah, so he says."

"I'm sensing some sarcasm?"

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, at this point I think Harry being so sullen and withdrawn has managed to affect my own mood, "he's just... I'm not quite sure what to do with him. I know he's grieving and everything but he's shutting me out. I've been walking on eggshells since we've gotten back to London."

"Well... I'm the worst for advice," Niall responds.

I raise a brow, "you don't say?"

"Ouch." ... "I deserved that comment," Niall chuckles, "I mean, he never strikes me of the man to open up to people."

"He doesn't, but he isn't usually this withdrawn with me." ... "I don't know Niall, tell me what to do." I glance up at him, confused as to how to handle the situation with Harry.

Perhaps it shouldn't plague me as much as it does that Harry is withdrawn but there's a part of me he will slip into a crack that I can't extract him from. Perhaps I'm selfish but I think if he continues to eliminate himself he will end up straining us.

"Elise, darlin' I can't tell ya what to do, it isn't my place. I'm also shitty at advice, Harry is my go-to man for advice... maybe just tell him you love him and you're here for him?" Niall recommends.

"I do, I have... He just left the office without warning today, you know that doesn't happen."

Niall nods, "give him some time, he'll come around. He loves you more than anythin' the man never shuts up about you," Niall smiles, "he has just been through a bit lately, strong lad he is."

"Yeah, I know," I sigh heavily, "well you're in charge now that you're done with the meetings, enjoy." I smile up at Niall and he rolls his eyes playfully.

"How riveting," he sarcastically responds, "but now I can flirt with Anastasia without the boss knowing."

"You're talking to the bosses wife." I laugh.

"Damn, put my foot in my mouth, didn't I?"

I nod, "go flirt, I'm going to finish up and go check on Harry." I inform Niall and he nods before making his way out of the office, of course making sure to stop by Anastasia's desk that I can see from my position at Harry's desk. Those two are quite the item, I can never tell how serious they are. On some days they seem serious and like they're entirely in love, on others it's like they barely know each other. Maybe it's the whole mixing work with pleasure thing. I don't know. But, I do want to know their proper status.

Are they dating or just in it for the benefits? I mean, they did sneak away at my wedding reception so it's hard to read between the lines.

*** ***

I enter the house and touch my hand to close the door behind me as I glance around the hallway, nothing is out of the ordinary. I wander down the hallway, surprised that not even the sound of the television echoes the walls. Usually, there's some sort of sound when Harry is home, most the time he falls asleep watching television before he can turn it off. I pass the living room and peer in, my eyes scanning the area for Harry's figure but I fail to find it amongst the furniture. That's when I hear the shuddering sound of things crashing and breaking.

My heart races and my body becomes overpowered with slight shivers.

I wander closer to where the powerful vibrations are coming from and the moment my eyes recognize the man I fell in love with damaging a room of things he loves, my heart breaks.

"Harry," my voice is enough to pause him in his impromptu range of destruct. His whole body freezes after he allows a vinyl to collapse to the floor like the rest of things.

Harry doesn't turn to gaze at me or offer me any sort of smile to hide the fact he seems to have abruptly jumped off the rails and tumbled straight into some type of destruct. He doesn't even offer me any sort of explanation.

Nothing.

His hands press to the edges of the desk that assembles in the room, his back arching, muscles protruding through his white shirt as he takes deep breaths.

I step closer and around the broken pieces scattered across the wooden flooring. Before I can reach Harry and concede my hand to caress his back in a caring and sweet approach, he turns around and faces me.

His eyes aren't as opaque as I had suspected they'd be, they're glossed over ready to shed diamond-like tears. "Sweetheart," I breathe, unsure of what to say to make this man feel any better about himself or whatever may be governing through that marvellous mind of his.

Harry slides his body down and rests on the floor beside his piano scattered around all the things he once loved. He just remains in the middle of his destruct, his eyes sullen, his lips pursed and shaking, while he appears so bewildered and hopeless.

He doesn't glance around at the mess he has created, he just stares at the wall with such incapacity. I bend down in front of him and glance into his eyes that are astonishingly oppressed and still somewhat enraged, "what's going on?" I softly challenge, gesturing towards the disaster around us.

"Clearing out,"

"What are you clearing? You love this stuff, Harry."

Harry shakes his head, "no," his voice is sharp as the simple word leaves his lips, "clearing it for the baby's room."

I wish it was a valid excuse, but he and I both know it's a lie. He didn't slaughter part of the things he loved to turn this room into the nursery. He did it out of rage and outrage over something.

"You don't need to destroy anything for the nursery, the nursery is upstairs, remember?" I softly announce, trying my hardest to keep my voice as low and as steady as possible.

Harry blinks at me, once, twice, three times then he nods, "fine, I needed to destroy everything."

"Harry–"

"Elise," he cuts me off, "just leave."

"Harry–"

He groans and rolls his eyes which cuts me off before I can bother to say anything, "for fuck's sake," he mutters and that's when I take it as my cue to listen.

I don't say a word, instead, I press my hand to his knee and the other to the edge of the desk to help myself up. I can't force the man to talk or to understand if he doesn't want to. I can only be here for him once the rage runs out and he's left unsure of what the hell he is meant to do with himself. I can only wait for him to come to me instead of me constantly going to him.

I wander out of the room, not bothering to glance back, mainly because I know I'll be left with the melancholy and distress laced in Harry's eyes.

I shuffle down the hallway and settle myself in the living room, far enough away that he gets the space he demands but close enough to hear his call if he decides he wants someone to help him while he's vulnerable. I pass my time relaxing on the couch, jumping between reading my book and watching television.

After a while, I get up and contemplate whether to check on Harry. He has been in that room for hours, not even bothering to come out to eat dinner. I couldn't bare attempting to call him or convince him to come eat, so I left him to his own devices, figuring he needs the time to himself to reflect and figure out what he wants. I decide not to bother him and I make my way upstairs to the bedroom.

While I get myself ready for bed, I can't help but invariably wonder about him. My brain just wants to destroy itself over him because it appears like I can't figure out what the fuck I am meant to do. Maybe I am a shitty wife who can't console her husband when with he is unquestionably grieving and in some sort of rut... but how can I encourage someone who won't admit they want my help? He's the type of man that has to come to you willingly, otherwise, it's like dealing with a raging bull that only perceives red.

Harry has never been the type of character to deal well with any sorts of forceful nature, it's something that I had to get used to over the years, I still haven't quite grasped the whole letting him do things on his own thing, especially when I know deep down he needs someone. I'll always be in his corner ready for his beckon call, but until I hear the beautiful siren of his, I just have to stand still.

I tear the covers back on the bed, more than ready to slide my body between the smoothness is the sheets and to wrap myself up in the comforter. There's no greater delight than curling up in this bed. I hear the creaking of floorboards and I flick my head to glance at the doorway as Harry nonchalantly enters, he doesn't say anything, he just wanders closer to me before he stops.

He's nonplused.

He blinks, one, two, three, four times and then he takes a breath, "I-I need you," his voice cracks and I sense every inch of my body fade and shatter with it.

The moment I see the tears fall from his delicate eyes I draw him into me and wrap my arms tightly around him. He doesn't pull away or anything, he leans his head down and sobs on my shoulder. I hold him as close as I possibly can while doing my best to soothe him with the simple motions of my hand caressed his back.

He never really breaks down, I'm the one that usually has the breakdown moment and to see him like this, it disheartens me. I just... I don't truly know what to do. I don't know what will solidify the brokenness inside him or what will halt these tears of anguish that are laced with regret.

My hand moves to cup the back of his head before I whisper sweet nothings to help lighten the mood, whispering everything from 'I love you,' to 'I'm sorry,' which probably aren't a great help, but I'm at a loss for words myself.

I allow him to cry and determine when he's done, I enable him to pull away from my shoulder before I glance again into his now flushed, broken eyes. I lean up and run the pads of my thumbs over his under eyes and cheeks to wipe away his tears. "Breathe," I whisper as he sniffles and I catch him grappling to catch his breath with tears still declining, "just breathe," I softly say again, continuing to wipe away his tears before he sits on the edge of the bed on my side. "How 'bout we get ready for bed, yeah?" I benevolently press my hand to his knee before I move around the room to grab him a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I wander back to him and he's just staring again at the wall like he's in some sort of trans. He's in some other world.

I place the clothes beside him before I gingerly unbutton his shirt, flicking each button before I thoughtfully slide the shirt down his arms, he winces slightly as he moves his shoulders back to take the shirt off before I take it and throw it towards the end of the bed. I'll clean it up later. I grab his t-shirt and he tenderly pushes it away from him and shakes his head. I guess he wants to sleep shirtless. I grant his wishes before he takes it upon himself to change out of his work pants and to put his sweatpants on.

The two of us slide into bed and the silence is enough to cut ice, the only things that can be apprehended are our breathing and the vibration of the heating system kicking on and off. The sheets rustle and I abruptly feel Harry's hand graze mine, I glance over at him and he's already looking at me, "want to come closer?" I offer and he takes the proposal.

He rests his head on my shoulder while his fingers intertwine with my own. Again silence takes over the bedroom and I wait for him to say something, anything. It feels like waiting for the snow to fall in the desert as I lie here on my back hoping for him to announce anything.

"Did you get everything finished... at work? Harry whispers, finally breaking the deafening stillness between us.

"I did."

"Good... I got a letter today."

"You did?"

"From Logan," Harry responds gradually and from the way his voice sounds, I can tell it's killing him to speak his name. It's like adding salt to a fresh wound, it burns and stings with every second before it gradually fades for a moment. "He'd been ill this whole time, I was such a horrible person."

"You weren't, H."

"You're just saying that 'cause you're my wife."

"No," I shake my head, not bothering to insist any further that he wasn't a horrible person, mainly because I know he won't listen.

He's going to beat himself up over things until the grief moderately fades.

"I tried so hard not to become my father... turns out I did... I became horrible, bitter and destructive." ... "I should have known better than to be such a dick... Logan didn't deserve it. I really am my father's child."

"Hey, don't do that to yourself. You know you're not him."

"Either way I shouldn't have been a prick, he just wanted to help and get to know me... he wanted a family. I kept him from that." Harry whispers and I just let him continue talking.

The more he gets off his chest the better it'll be for him. Sooner or later he'll stop beating himself up for the actions of his father and he will understand none of this was his fault. No matter how much he blames himself he won't be able to bring Logan back. All Harry can do, for his own sanity, is to remember that he and Logan ended on good terms. That's all the matters.

"He left us everything... his company and all." Harry informs me, "not sure what we are going to do with it, but yeah... not sure what I'm going to do period... feel fucking lost." ... "I jus' I want a break. I want fresh air."

"Harry, how about a getaway?" I propose and Harry huffs.

"You know that won't happen. I have work."

"Harry, you're more important. You need some time for yourself."

"Perhaps. But you know how it is."

I do know how it is. I know he's going to work himself half to death the next few months to fill the void inside him and then he's going to become so incredibly drained that he is forced to take a little time to rest all while in the meantime I'm the one that deals with CEO — dick— Harry.

I love him, I do. But when he works himself far too much and is on barely any sleep, he turns into an enraged mayhem. This business of his— ours — is a blessing and a curse at times. It can turn another side of him. A side I don't appreciate perceiving.

I feel Harry's head lift off my shoulder before he's propped up on his arm, "I'm sleepy, I'm sorry about everything."

"You don't need to be sorry," I cut him off promptly, assuring him he is fine.

"No... I destroyed things... I became aggressive."

"Well... yes." I agree, unable to defend his actions.

"I shouldn't have reacted that way... I'm sorry."

"Well, I forgive you. But I don't think your pieces of vinyl and everything will... darling, please don't ruin the things you love because of the things you hate."

"I just... in that moment I wanted everything that reminded me of him gone."

"Logan?" I challenge, unsure of who he's speaking about.

Harry shakes his head, "Dad," ... "every fucking thing is a reminder of that deadbeat."

"Harry—"

"I liked it better when I didn't know whether he was alive or dead... Goodnight, Elise." Harry murmurs as he moves away from me and settles on his side of the bed, not bothering to kiss me or anything. He just rolls over and draws at the covers before getting comfortable and falling asleep.

|| Harry ||

I stand towards the bar while watching the guests of the charity event mingle while I hold a glass of Scotch in my hand, my eyes investigating the area for someone I feel like talking to. I'm not much in the mood to talk to anyone, I don't really care for business right now. I am about done with the fuckery of my company and Logan's. If I didn't love my career so much and have an uncanny compulsion to periodically be working, I would sell both of them and escape to living on a beach in America where I have no damn problems, no business, no Father, no worries. I just want a new beginning.

I sigh as I take a swig of my beverage, the slight inclining to get drunk rushes through me but I know better. I am sure Elise will bitch at me for getting myself drunk, she has been bitchy all damn day, not to mention the CEO being drunk is not professional. What a shame.

"You look bored, lad," Niall's accent rings in my ears before he is standing beside me with a beer in his hand.

I give him a nod, I am bored, indeed. "Where's Anastasia, you two haven't snuck off yet for a good shag," I comment, deliberately seeking to stir the pot a little bit. The two of them have been off my radar, I can't figure out what they are, usually, they aren't too slick when it comes to these events. The last one I went to I caught Niall wandering out of the coat closet. His flushed face was priceless where I raised a brow and laughed. I couldn't help but pet him on the shoulder and tell him to adjust his tie before sauntering off.

Niall shrugs, "Couldn't tell ya, she's pissed at me. We've been at it all bloody day."

"Ah, you in the dog house, too?" I challenge and Niall nods, "to us," I clink my glass with his before taking a sip, "what are you in the dog house for?"

Niall huffs, "She says I don't put in much effort, not sure what she wants... do I have to hang from the fuckin' ceiling for the woman?" Niall grumbles and I snicker to myself.

Don't get me wrong he is exceptional when it comes to business, but he is a fucking tool when it comes to women.

"Niall, you don't put much effort in. Holding the coat room door open before and after shagging doesn't count," I inform him and he blinks at me with his lips pursed into a fine line.

"I do put in the effort," he shakes his head, "I complimented her on her dress."

"Did you take her to dinner tonight before coming here? Niall, it takes more than a compliment."

Niall shakes his head, "I was meant to take her to dinner? We went to dinner last night."

"For fuck's sake Niall," I snicker, "Do I have to tell you everything? Whenever a woman dresses up admirably for you, you take her to a pleasant dinner and show her you care and appreciate it. She could have stayed home with her hair a mess."

"So you're telling me a dinner solves all the problems?"

"Oh Niall, you're like an innocent lamb," I sigh, "Put more effort into things, be more romantic, take her to dinner, buy her flowers, take her on a hike or something. Try."

"I will do my best," Niall mutters, "Now, why are you in the doghouse?"

"Argh Elise has been irritating all damn day. I can't get time to myself because she thinks I am going to blow up and destroy the house or somethin'. She got pissed because I told her I wouldn't be off for Christmas and that I might have to go to New York."

"You're actually going to New York?" Niall asks, "thought you'd skip it," he comments and I shrug.

Considering the circumstances I want to get the hell out of London and just have some time away from everything. Despite the fact that I would be on a business, I would prefer to deal with business shit while in New York. Maybe it will be more peaceful over there.

"Business is business," I lift my shoulders into a shrug.

"Then ya wonder why you're in the doghouse. You're pushing her away, you know."

"Mhm," I hum, unsure of what to say. I may be pushing her away but it is for valid reasons.

I need to be alone.

I can't be smothered. I know she means well but all this fuckery is my mess, not hers. It is up to me to deal with things and to fix things, not hers.

"She's your wife, ye' know. She just cares for you, don't do anything you will regret— like vanishing off to New York over Christmas and burying yourself in work.

"Well, that is easier said than done," I respond before taking a swig of my beverage, my eyes once again scanning the area. I cock my head to the side as my eyes narrow down on a familiar looking man.

"Is that?" Niall begins and I tighten the grip on my glass as my jaw clenches. What I thought would be a peaceful night at a charity event clearly is going to be far from it.

This could end one of two ways, with me in jail after beating the shit out of someone or— no, there is just one way things can end.

Charles Taylor.

He extends his hand to me and all I can think about is wanting to break each and every bone in it, all twenty-seven of them. Perhaps I could do it charming and painfully, perhaps I will begin with the eight short carpal bones and just make my way down.

"Harry, I need to talk to you," Charles' voice sends my nerves into a furious pulse of nothing but wrath.

"You have five seconds to walk away before I lose it, one, two, three," I begin to count and he immediately cuts me off. Sorrowfully, he isn't marching away from me and leaving me the hell alone.

"I know I am the last person you want to see. Please, listen, I am on your side. You need to listen," Charles begins and Niall places his hand on Charles chest and steps between us, putting distance between us.

He knows better. He knows the thoughts rattling through my mind.

"Harry, things aren't over now that Logan died, you're just next on the food chain, he's not going to stop," Charles comments as Niall continues to put distance between Charles and me.

"Wait, what do you mean by HE isn't going to stop, who is he?" I clasp my hand to Niall's shoulder, tugging him back and letting Charles stay to speak.

Charles takes a moment to stare at me, his brows furrowing, "you haven't figured it out?"

"Don't fuck with me, what is going on?"

Charles glances around as if he is watching his back and in that moment I etch my nails into the material of his shirt and I draw him closer, "spill, what do you know?"

"Harry, they're not going to stop until they get what they want. They're trying to do something tonight."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you have no reason not too. I took you out of that car and made sure you were still alive. I was the one who called emergency services."

"You're lying, you left me to die. You took off my wedding ring and threw it to the ground, I remember. Leave before I get security, I'm done with you." I let go of his shirt and shove him backward with just a little force. I don't need to start a scuffle while at a business event.

I still have some dignity and pride.

Charles shakes his head, "No, there were three of us, me, Steven and Jack. Look, take my words as you wish, but you're not safe. They will keep scheming until they get what they want."

"And what do they want? Who are they?" I cross my arms over my chest,

"They want you and everything you have," he gestures around us, indicating whoever 'they' are, they want my company, the money, the lifestyle, all of it.

"They want me?" I snort, "bit cryptic don't you think? What are they going to do?" I roll my eyes, somewhat entertained by these shenanigans that are going on.

This is all getting ridiculous, hence another reason why I want to pack up and fucking leave.

"Bury you like they did Logan. The only way to get to you in through Elise and they're going to do it."

I stare at Charles, unsure of whether I should believe him or not. He hasn't exactly been honest with me, to begin with, and he did drug Elise in an attempt to get information out of her and for the keys to the vault that these people seem to want to get their hands on.

Maybe I should just give them everything, it would make my life easier, give them the vault and the business, then I can jet set to wherever my heart desires.

I glance around and search the area for the only woman I care for, Elise. My nystagmic eyes miss nothing as they progress around the room, "Where's Elise? Niall, do you see Elle?" I immediately request, unable to locate her in the crowded room.

"She's there, isn't she?" Niall points towards the corner and I shake my head.

"That isn't her."

"Are you sure?"

"Niall, I know what my wife fucking looks like, that isn't her ass," I mutter lamentably, worry making itself known as it washes over me like an enraged sea that can't be tamed. I glance to Charles, "Where the fuck is my wife?" I demand, my hands moving to seize his shirt once again but this time with much more authority, "Tell me where the hell she is or so God help you will not live to see another damn day," I growl as I do my best not to completely go insane.

The last thing I need right now is for him to be playing me and distracting me while getting to Elise.

"Twelve, twenty-one, that is all I know. They didn't tell me, they kept me out of this one."

"Twelve, twenty-one?" I slowly let go of his shirt, my mind rattling with thoughts.

How the fuck is numbers going to help me? — I swear I am leaving this city for a while.

"That doesn't mean any— I mean... we got married 12/5/2021."

"Where the fuck is Anastasia?" Niall belatedly speaks and I heavily huff. Not to sound selfish but I am more concerned about Elise not him getting his dick wet with Anastasia.

Okay, maybe that was too harsh of me. Fuck, I am wishing I went with a music career instead of a business career. It would be less problematic.

"Twelfth floor, room twenty-one," Niall mumbles, "they're together, they're both fucking missing," Niall puts the pieces together before I do and I gaze back towards Charles.

"If this is a hoax, I will hunt you down and you will not breathe a breath of air again, kapish?" I grouse just loud enough for Charles and me to hear, and he nods his head in obedience.

I don't need to say another word before Niall is hammering behind me as we battle our way through the melee. I launch the heavy doors open and bustle down the hallway to the elevators where I shove my hand into my pocket to seize my phone. "Harry, the stairs will be quicker," Charles comments and I turn around to face him.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Coming with you," Charles takes me by surprise that he is wanting to come with us. Seems to me this is part of some sort of setup, but I can't gamble ignoring Charles when Elise is involved.

We take the stairs and hasten up the twelfth floor and I grumble to myself as Elise doesn't answer my calls or texts. The one bloody time I need her to answer she fucking doesn't.

"What room?" Niall challenges as he is in front of me, "eight, nine, fuck this is torture, this hallway never fucking ends," Niall grumbles while our feet pound against the carpeted flooring.

"Twenty-one, on the left," I instruct while Niall draws his set of keys from his jacket pocket and shoves the key into the door.

He shoves it open and freezes in the doorway. I step beside him and my eyes see something I wasn't foreseeing.

The room is empty.

I step into the room and glance around for anything that would be out of place to show anyone was in here, then I see it, two things. Elise's necklace is on the floor and a white card is on the bed. I pick up the necklace before gripping the card in my hands.

"Elise, meet me in room 21 on the 12th floor, I love you, darling. — Harry xx"

I glance towards Niall and Charles, one hand holding the card, one holding the diamond necklace.