---- Chapter 9 With a temporary ID, Joana took a taxi to the airport. As the plane lifted off the runway, she felt a profound sense of release. She was leaving everything behind-the pain, the betrayal, the man who had destroyed her. She landed in a sun-drenched coastal town where the air smelled of salt and flowers. She assumed a new name, a new identity. She was no longer Joana Scott, architectural genius. She was just a woman who ran a small, quiet flower shop by the sea. Back in the city, Darius Madden's world was collapsing. Hours earlier, after dropping Kaylee at her villa, he had felt a gnawing unease. Kaylee had clung to him, trying every seductive trick she knew. "You're not going home tonight, are you?" she'd purred, her hands sliding under his shirt. He had hesitated. He'd promised Joana he would be home. She would be angry. But then, a familiar warmth spread through him at the thought of his wife. Her anger was a sign that she cared. He smiled to himself. But Kaylee was persistent. In the end, he had stayed. ---- A few hours later, he carefully straightened his clothes, checking for any tell-tale signs of his infidelity, and drove home. He walked in, calling her name. "Joana! I'm home! Let's open our..." The words died in his throat. The house was silent. Eerily silent. She was gone. His eyes fell on the untouched box of cream puffs in the trash. A knot of dread tightened in his stomach. He scanned the living room, looking for a note, an explanation. He expected her to jump out from behind the sofa, a playful pout on her face. He kept calling her name, but the only answer was the echo of his own voice. A terrible thought began to take root in his mind. She left me. No. He refused to accept it. "Joana, come out!" he begged the empty rooms. "Let's open the gift together! I'm sorry about this morning!" His voice trembled as he searched the house, his steps growing more frantic. He started to notice things. The framed photos of them on the mantelpiece were gone. The wedding portrait that hung in the hallway was missing. He felt a wave of vertigo, the world tilting on its axis. She was erasing herself from his life. ---- He stumbled out into the backyard, a last, desperate hope guiding him. The sight that greeted him brought him to his knees. The white rose garden was gone. The entire garden he had planted for her had been leveled, the ground turned over and freshly seeded with grass, as if it had never existed. A few workers were packing up their tools. Darius staggered toward them, his voice a raw croak. "Who did this? Where are the roses?" The workers looked at each other nervously. "Ms. Scott hired us three days ago," one of them said, his voice hesitant. "She told us to cut them down and turn them to mulch." Mulch. The word hammered into Darius's brain. He took a step back, his face a mask of disbelief. The reality of it all was a physical weight, pressing down on him, crushing him.