Married To The Billionaire Alpha King-Chapter 24 - annoy my wife

24

~Darlon’s POV

The moment my eyes landed on the boxes in the living room, the air left my lungs.

Not slowly.

Not gently.

It punched out of me.

I whispered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else, "I knew I fucked up."

The maids bowed the second they saw me, but I didn’t even give them a glance. My eyes were glued to my wife. She stood there like a soft shadow, her shoulders pulled inward as if she was trying to disappear behind her own sadness.

I forced a small smile, even though my chest felt like it was splitting. I walked toward her slowly, carefully, like she was something fragile I might break with the wrong step.

My voice came out low. "Elara.... what’s with the bags?"

She didn’t lift her head at first. She clutched the handle of her suitcase tighter, her knuckles pale.

Then she breathed out and finally looked at me.

Her voice trembled even though she tried to sound calm. "I know you’re a very busy person, Darlon. You have... real responsibilities. It’d be selfish of me to expect you to stay away from everything for a whole month just because of me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but she shook her head quickly.

"No....please." she said softly. "We’ve... had enough time for the honeymoon. More than enough. And honestly, I’m grateful. You didn’t have to do half of the things you did. I won’t ask for more."

Something sharp twisted under my ribs.

She continued, her eyes darting away like they were scared of mine. "We can just... go back. To the original mansion, your home. So you can perform your duties properly."

I stared at her.

Speechless.

Frozen.

Her words were gentle, but they felt like knives wrapped in silk. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t yelling. She was just... done.

And somehow, that hurt more.

She bent to drag her suitcase toward the door.

"No," I said quickly.

She stopped, her fingers tightening around the handle.

I stepped forward and tried to gather myself before I spoke. I had pissed her off enough today. I wasn’t about to blow again.

"Elara," I said quietly, "let the guards do it. That’s their job."

She hesitated, then nodded once without meeting my eyes.

"And you," I added softly, swallowing hard, "wait for me. I’ll pack up too."

She nodded again, barely.

I stood there staring at her for a few long seconds, memorizing the slight tremble in her shoulders, the way she held her breath like she was holding back tears, the way she didn’t dare look at me.

Then I turned and walked to our room.

A maid followed me immediately, her steps light, silent, like she knew the tension humming through the walls.

The moment I entered the room, the anger hit me again, fast and violent.

"Stupid team," I growled, kicking the edge of the bed frame. "Stupid fucking day. They made me annoy my wife."

The maid flinched so hard she almost dropped the shirt she was folding.

I didn’t care.

I grabbed my phone and dialed David again, fingers trembling with the leftover rage I couldn’t swallow. He picked up on the first ring, of course he did. No one with sense kept me waiting.

"Sire..."

"Listen to me," I cut in sharply, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. My wolf was thrashing under my skin, pushing, restless, furious. "Make sure the clowns I fired don’t get a job anywhere else. Not even as a damn mall guard. I don’t care if they end up sweeping gutters, that’s their problem. But they will not work in my world again. Understood?"

He gulped so loudly it crackled through the phone. "Y-yes, Sire. I’ll... I’ll handle it immediately."

"Good."

I hung up before he had the chance to waste more of my time breathing into my ear. The silence that followed was worse somehow, thick, hot, pressing into my lungs. I dragged a palm over my face and exhaled hard, trying to steady myself, but the anger was sitting too deep. It wasn’t even about the incompetent recruits. It was the cold knot in my chest... the fear of losing Elara. The fear that I had already done too much damage.

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, bouncing my leg so fast the mattress trembled. My wolf paced inside me just like I paced outside, restless, clawing, unsettled.

The maid stood by the open closet, frozen mid-movement, still holding a stack of my folded clothes. Her eyes flicked to me then away, like she wasn’t sure if she should breathe.

I blew out another heavy breath and lifted my head. My voice came out quieter this time, rougher. "What do you think I can do... to fix this? To pacify my wife?"

The maid blinked at me like I had suddenly grown two heads. Her mouth opened... then closed. Then opened again. Nothing came out.

Of course. What maid in her right mind would advise me on my marriage?

I shook my head. "Never mind. Just...just do your job."

"Yes, Alpha," she whispered quickly, almost tripping over her own feet as she resumed packing.

I stood, taking a few steps toward the doorway, but something made me pause. Maybe frustration. Maybe fear. Maybe the fact that every second Elara stayed angry felt like someone squeezing my ribcage.

"Be fast," I said sharply, more harshly than I meant.

"Yes, Alpha!"

Her voice trembled.

I left the room.

A few minutes later, we were in the car, just the two of us. The guards had already loaded the bags, stepping back the moment I approached, as if even my footsteps carried warning signs tonight.

The engine hummed quietly, too quietly for the storm in my chest. The night breeze slipped through the half-opened windows, brushing against my skin like a reminder of everything I was losing... or had already lost.

I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.

My wife sat beside me, her posture perfect, hands folded neatly on her lap like she was purposely placing every part of herself out of my reach. She stared out the window with a calmness that scared me more than any enemy ever had. The world outside seemed to hold her attention in a way I no longer did.

And she was silent.

So painfully, painfully silent.

The kind of silence that makes your ears ring. The kind that doesn’t come from lack of words, no. This was the silence of someone who had finally stopped trying.

I opened my mouth once. Closed it. Tried again. Nothing came out. Because I didn’t even know how to start. How do you speak when you’re terrified that one wrong word might shatter what is left?

She didn’t look at me. Not even once.

And I... I didn’t look at her either. I was scared of what I would see on her face. Disappointment? Hurt? Or worse, indifference.

So we just moved. The car rolling forward, headlights cutting through the darkness, while inside the vehicle two people sat shoulder to shoulder yet felt a million miles apart.

And it killed me.