He drank.Eleanor picked up her chopsticks. Stared at the food. Put them down again."I'm not hungry. I'm going to lie down."She stood and walked to the bedroom without another word.Reginald's brow furrowed as he watched her go. A flicker of something — annoyance, or maybe the faintest trace of guilt — crossed his face.He said nothing.He poured another glass and drank alone.Downstairs, Ethan scanned the complex.He knew Vivian.Five years of marriage had given him a near-perfect map of her patterns. When Vivian was angry, she ran. But she never ran far. She'd storm out of the apartment like the building was on fire, then park herself somewhere within a two-hundred-meter radius and cry until she ran out of tears.She'd done it after every fight with Reginald. Every single time.Same script. Different corner.He found her in under three minutes.She was crouched beside the ornamental garden near the south entrance, hugging her knees, phone pressed to her ear. Her shoulders were sha