The Man Who Became Ice

**Richard's POV**

It has been a year and a half since Charlotte disappeared from my life, taking my children with her. A year and a half of relentless searching, sleepless nights, and accumulated frustration. During all that time, the only thing that mattered to me was finding her, bringing her back, and reclaiming the control she dared to take from me. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many resources I used, she had vanished, evaporating into thin air as if she had never existed.

At first, the anger consumed me. I spent hours locked in my office, reviewing the same reports, the same leads that led nowhere. I hired the best investigators, used my darkest connections, but I always ended up at the same dead end. It was as if she had disappeared from the face of the Earth, taking with her my heirs, my reason for existence.

The headlines in the newspapers didn’t help. The story of Charlotte’s disappearance quickly turned into a media scandal. Old photos of her, rumors about her escape, speculations about what really happened—all of it spread like wildfire, tarnishing my family’s name. The press fed on the uncertainties and mysteries, and with every new article, I felt my control slipping through my fingers. I couldn’t let this continue.

Vanessa, always attentive to opportunities, began to insist more and more on the idea of moving on. At first, I ignored her suggestions, thinking she simply didn’t understand what was at stake. But as the months dragged on and the pressure mounted, I began to give in. Perhaps it was exhaustion or the simple acceptance that Charlotte had become an unattainable shadow. Either way, marrying Vanessa seemed like the next logical step, at least in the eyes of others.

My mother was the first to suggest that I consider marrying Vanessa. “Richard,” she said during one of our long conversations, “you need to move on. The situation with Charlotte is out of control, and the public is starting to speculate too much. Vanessa is a good choice. She’s always been by your side, and marrying her will bring stability to both the family and the business.”

I knew she was right, at least in part. The scandals involving Charlotte were tarnishing our name, and the pressure to resolve it somehow was enormous. Vanessa, with her constant presence and her ability to handle the media, seemed like the most pragmatic solution. Additionally, my mother, with her persistent ways, constantly reminded me of how a marriage to Vanessa could silence the critics and stabilize the situation.

Finally, I gave in. The marriage to Vanessa was more of a transaction than anything else. She insisted on every detail, planned every moment, while I merely attended, almost as a spectator of my own life. I became an even colder man, a man who did what was expected without questioning, without feeling. What was left of my heart had completely closed off, replaced by a layer of ice that even Vanessa’s warmth couldn’t melt.

She was satisfied, of course. Vanessa had always been relentlessly ambitious, and now she had what she always wanted: the status of a wife, the position of power at my side. But inside, I knew that nothing had really changed. I was still obsessed with Charlotte, still dreaming of the moment I would find her and bring back what was mine.

Our marriage was widely publicized in the media, and for a while, the headlines shifted focus from the scandal of Charlotte to the new union. Vanessa played her part perfectly, always smiling at my side, always ready to say the right thing at the right time. But it was all a farce. I treated her with cold courtesy, fulfilling my role as a husband without emotional involvement. She had what she wanted—power, prestige—but she would never have what truly mattered: my devotion.

I became even more meticulous and ruthless in business. My employees began to fear me more than ever. There was no room for mistakes, no room for weaknesses. I demanded perfection in every aspect of my life, except in what mattered most—finding Charlotte. No one dared to mention her name around me. The mere sound of her name was enough to ignite the cold anger that now defined my existence.

Vanessa, for her part, tried to fill the void with her constant presence, her plans, her parties. She did everything to stay relevant in my life, but deep down, she knew she would never occupy the place Charlotte had left. I didn’t care. My heart had turned to stone, and there was no room for anyone but Charlotte and the anger that still consumed me.

The months turned into more than a year of marriage, and my indifference only intensified. I did what was necessary, said the right words, but my mind was always elsewhere, always focused on the search that never ceased. Even when I wasn’t actively searching for her, a part of me never gave up. I wondered where she was, what she was doing, if she still thought of me. And, above all, if she still had my children, those who were my blood, my continuity.

Vanessa continued to play her role perfectly, but there were moments when I saw a spark of frustration in her eyes, a spark that told me she knew she would never have what she really wanted. I didn’t care. My heart was so hardened that nothing seemed capable of piercing the wall I had built around myself.