Iobserved the shattered villa. The broken glass, the unmade bed, and the floor flooded with water.
There was no trace of my wife, but there was an uncorked bottle of Moët, pieces of glass and mirror on the floor, and some drops of blood that stained the candles we bought yesterday and never got to light.
I had returned a minute earlier than promised, feeling happy and hopeful, believing that the surprise I had prepared for my wife would strengthen our relationship. However, all I had managed to do was make it fall apart, like the bathtub overflowing before my eyes.
As soon as I arrived, the liquid was seeping out from under the door.
I immediately went on high alert. The smile I had worn turned into a grimace. The bouquet of flowers slipped from my fingers, along with the folder full of documents.
I roared her name from outside, even before frantically searching for the card to open the door. I don't even know how I found it or how I resisted the urge to break the door down when I got no response.
I was beside myself, sensing that something bad had happened to her. Nikita was not the type to fall asleep in the bathtub and would respond to any disturbance.
I prayed she wasn't dead. No, that was absurd, Koroleva wasn't one to die, but one to kill.
I managed to open the door, and as soon as my eyes took in the disaster, my heart burst into flames. I scanned the room, calling her name repeatedly; it didn't matter that my shoes were drowning as much as I was.
No trace. All there was was considerable chaos and signs of a struggle. She had fought back; I was sure of it.
My footsteps splashed through the water. I entered the bathroom, my pulse spiked again. The mirror was shattered, and a large splash of blood, smelling of gunfire, was visible.
I could almost calculate the angle from the stain that dripped over what was left of the mirror and the sink. The shell casing was on the floor, and the bullet had lodged in the small drain.
I reached the bathtub and turned off the water. I wanted to throw everything in frustration, but I held back because I knew it was a terrible idea; if there was evidence, that fit of rage could ruin it.
I cursed myself for leaving her alone.
These were our last hours on the island, and I had the brilliant idea to leave her in the villa without me! I was a fool! Since nothing had happened until that moment, I thought we were safe, but no, they were just waiting for the right moment when I was away from my wife to screw me over.
I should have brought a guard! I was so clouded by how I wanted to surprise her that I overlooked what had happened to Sarka a few hours ago. If something bad happened to my wife, I would never be able to forgive myself.
The image of Yuri flashed in my mind; I never got over his death, and this disappearance revived all my ghosts.
The same thing couldn't happen to her, it couldn't!
I needed to keep a cool head, focus on the details, and observe. Something had to lead me to whoever had taken her. Maybe there was a ransom note or a warning.
I returned to the living room and saw a service cart that hadn't been there in the morning, and on the bathtub shelf, I saw an ice bucket with an uncorked bottle.
If she had ordered a drink, maybe the waiter had encountered the person who took her.
I had to talk to him. I ran to the reception and interrupted a woman who was telling her life story to the receptionist. She glared at me, and I told her I was in a hurry and would return her in a moment.
I asked if my wife had called room service and who had brought the bottle.
The receptionist looked puzzled; according to her, she had been there all afternoon and hadn't received any request from our villa. Nonetheless, she contacted the restaurant in case the order had gone to them.
The response was the same, no one had delivered anything to our villa, which was the most secluded. I asked the receptionist to review the hallway security camera. She looked at me strangely because, up until that point, I hadn't told her the real reason I was there.
She told me she wasn't authorized, so she couldn't comply.
My desperation was growing.
The woman I had interrupted was looking at me impatiently. I fixed my eyes on the uniformed woman behind the counter.
"If you can't show me, I want to speak to someone who has the authority to do so."
"Excuse me, sir, but if it were possible, the only person who could would be the director."