That's how I found myself curled up into a ball staring at the Seattle skyline in the formerly known 'Sub room' – aka my old bedroom.

I will maintain radio silence until his highness deems it necessary to communicate with me. His attitude makes me wonder why he keeps pushing me away instead of trying to fix the problem. I know getting him to communicate about anything unpleasant is always a near impossible task at the best of times, but even angry and reluctant, he would eventually cave.

Thinking back to the last time we had a proper conversation was when I told me I was pregnant and he walk out on me, then the awful phone call at the bank when he thought I was leaving him and taking five million of his money – because that's all I was after. Could he possibly still be under that misconception? Or was it the fact that I missed my shots was 'stupid enough' to get pregnant?

That conversation – or more aptly, screaming match - fills me with such pain. How could he think that? Is he happier now that Little Blip is no more? It's what he wanted, wasn't it? Well according to Mrs Bitch troll Robinson, he would've made a great father. How the fuck would she know that?

I fall into a fitful sleep sometime around three am and it's no wonder I woke feeling groggy and generally in a pissy mood.

The Seattle skyline greets me and it looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. This truly is an amazing sight. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table and it seems I've outdone myself. It's after eleven am – this has to be the latest I've slept without the aid medication. I briefly wonder why Christian hasn't woken me up yet. It's Saturday, so unless he too is still asleep – which is highly doubtful – or maybe he has decided to go into work today, probably to get away for me.

My heart constricts at the thought of him preferring the office that being at home because I'm here. Nevertheless, I get out of bed and start my morning routine. Brush my teeth, shower, and dress, fix my hair and trek downstairs.

Downstairs, Christian is on his blackberry and Taylor is standing off to the side, sort of like he's awaiting instructions from Christian. As I enter the room en-route to the kitchen, I'm spotted by Taylor, Christian is still deep in conversation pacing the up and down like a caged animal.

"Good morning Taylor" I greet pleasantly as I make my way past him

Taylor smiles in return "Good morning Mrs Grey"

Christian pauses briefly mid-stride, looks at me then continue to bark orders to the unfortunate person at the other end of the line. Taylor averts his gaze but not before I see the concern or was that pity in them. I bite down hard on my lip to keep my emotions in check and hurry out of the room and into the kitchen, nearly bumping into Mrs Jones.

"Morning Ana dear, what would like for breakfast this morning" Gail asks pleasantly

"Morning Mrs Jones. Can I just have a cup of tea please? I'm not hungry right now"

Gail eyes me for a second too long before she nods and goes about making my tea. I take a seat at the breakfast bar, and pick at my fingers willing myself not to breakdown. The look in Christians' eyes was so detached. Cold grey! What have done to warrant that kind of reaction from him?

"Here you go dear. Are you sure I can't get you something to eat?"

I know she means well, but right now all I can manage is tea – if that. I shake my head not meeting her gaze and stare into the cup. Perhaps I should go visit my mum or Ray for a while, the distance could be good for Christian and I, or it could drives us further apart.

I wish I knew what was eating at him. Why is he so mad at me?

Christian walks into the kitchen and announces that his father will be here shortly. He instructs Mrs Jones to ensure that I eat a proper breakfast because I'm apparently not equipped to make that decision for myself. He then turns and walks out towards his study, yelling for Taylor.

As soon as the door closes, I leave the table, my tea untouched and storm out of the kitchen. Who the fuck does Christian Grey think he is treating me like a damn wayward child? Fuck him and his food issues. Am I not good enough to address personally? If he wants me to act like an errand child, I'll give him what he wants.

I grab my purse and a coat and stride to the elevator. I have no idea where I'm headed yet, I just cannot be in the same house as him right now or I cannot be held responsible for my action.