Chapter 5 — The Empty House

The heavy wooden front door of the Vance estate unlocked with a sharp click long after midnight.

Dillian stepped into the quiet foyer, his dark suit damp from the persistent rain outside. He loosened his necktie with one hand and tossed his car keys onto the small marble table near the door. The entire house was pitch-black and eerily still, wrapped in a cold silence that felt unusual even for this massive, empty property.

Usually, no matter how late he returned, a dim lamp would be left burning in the living room, and the soft scent of fresh tea or home-cooked food would linger in the air. Tonight, there was only darkness and the faint smell of cold candle wax.

"Sarah?" he called out, his deep voice carrying down the wide, empty hallway.

No answer came.

Dillian frowned, feeling a small flick of annoyance in his chest. He made his way into the living room and flipped the wall switch. The bright overhead lights flooded the large room, revealing the neat, untouched furniture. The long dining table sat in total shadow at the far end of the room, exactly as it had been left the night before.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a deep, dull ache behind his temples. The entire day had been a chaotic mess. Dealing with Chloe’s sudden demands, managing the media press after their brunch photo leaked online, and handling the unexpected board meeting had drained every ounce of his energy.

And then there was Sarah's strange behavior at the office.

Dillian closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the look on her pale, tear-streaked face when the security guards pulled her away from his office door. She had looked completely broken, holding out that crumpled white envelope as if her entire life depended on it. He had been so furious about her showing up unannounced and causing a scene in front of Chloe that he had reacted purely out of anger. Firing her in front of the staff had been a harsh move, but she needed to understand that business and personal lives could not mix.

"She is probably sulking upstairs," he muttered to himself, stepping toward the grand staircase.

He climbed the stairs with slow, heavy steps, fully intending to tell her that her foolish stunt downstairs had gone too far. He reached the master bedroom, pushed the door open, and clicked on the lights.

"Sarah, we need to talk about what happened at the office today—"

His words cut off instantly.

The bedroom was completely empty. The massive bed was neatly made, the pillows untouched.

Dillian walked over to the large walk-in closet and pulled the doors open. Half of the wardrobe was completely bare. All of Sarah’s modest, simple clothes were gone. Her small collection of shoes, her everyday handbags, and her personal coat were nowhere to be seen. Only the expensive designer dresses and formal gowns he had bought for her to wear at official corporate events remained hanging on the silver racks, cold and untouched.

A strange, uncomfortable tightness formed in Dillian’s chest.

He turned around sharply and walked over to the vanity table. Sitting right in the center of the dark wood was a small stack of items.

Dillian stepped closer, his heart inexplicably quickening its pace.

Lying on the polished table was his platinum credit card, completely unused. Resting directly on top of the black card was her silver wedding ring, its metal shining under the bright bedroom lights. Beneath both items lay a single sheet of white paper with Sarah’s neat, quiet handwriting.

He picked up the paper, his long fingers trembling slightly as he read the short lines.

“Dillian”,

“I am leaving. You do not have to worry about me disturbing your life or your work ever again. I am taking only what belongs to me. You can give Chloe the life you always wanted to give her”.

“Our marriage contract is over”.

Dillian stared at the paper, reading the words over and over again. The message was simple, clear, and cold. There were no wild threats, no demands for money, and no emotional outbursts. She had simply packed her meager belongings and walked out into the stormy night, leaving behind the ring and the credit card.

"Nonsense," Dillian said out loud, his voice sounding flat in the empty room. "She has nowhere to go. Her family relies on my money."

He crumpled the paper in his hand, pulled out his smartphone, and dialed her number.

*The number you have dialed is currently switched off or out of coverage area. Please try again later.*

He dialed it again. The same automated female voice answered immediately.

Dillian cursed under his breath and threw his phone onto the bed. He paced back and forth across the floor, his mind racing. Where could she possibly go at this hour in the pouring rain? Her parents lived across the city, but Sarah would never worry them late at night without a good reason.

His eyes suddenly caught his own coat pocket. He remembered the small white envelope she had tried so desperately to hand him in the hallway before the guards dragged her away.

Dillian reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the crumpled white paper. He flattened the edges with his hand and pulled out the folded paper inside.

He unfolded it slowly under the warm lamp light.

It was a official medical report from a private clinic, stamped with the current date. Stapled to the bottom corner of the medical report was a small, dark, high-contrast ultrasound photograph showing a tiny, fragile spot inside a shadowed womb.

Dillian’s breath froze in his throat. His blood ran instantly cold, and the paper nearly slipped from his fingers.

His eyes scanned down the medical report, catching the bold black text written near the bottom:

Patient: Sarah Weston

Diagnosis: Confirmed intra-uterine pregnancy (5 weeks).

Special Medical Note: Severe thinness of uterine lining observed. High-risk pregnancy. Termination or loss of fetus will likely cause permanent secondary infertility.*

Dillian stood frozen in the absolute silence of the bedroom, staring down at the tiny dark spot on the ultrasound photo.

The pieces of the day suddenly collided in his head with crushing force.

The extreme fatigue. Her pale skin and red eyes this morning. Her quiet plea for a simple dinner together for their anniversary. Her frantic arrival at his office floor, clutching this exact envelope with trembling hands while he stood beside Chloe, cold and indifferent, and told security to throw her out of the building.

She hadn't come to his office to throw a tantrum or demand money.

She had come to tell him she was carrying his child.

Dillian lowered the paper slowly, his chest heaving as a cold wave of panic and guilt washed over him. He looked down at the silver wedding ring sitting on the vanity table, then back at the empty closet.

She was pregnant with his only child, alone, unwell, and out somewhere in the dark, rainy city with two heavy suitcases and nowhere to go.

Dillian turned around and bolted out of the bedroom, taking the stairs three at a time as he rushed back down toward the front door to find her.