{ FIVE }

VAYLEN

I called her again. Still switched off.

I lowered the phone from my ear slowly. Across the table, my lawyer kept talking, sliding another document toward me like this meeting was still happening normally.

I hadn’t heard a word he’d said in the last minutes. My attention went back to the clock on the wall.

Ten minutes late. Catherine was never late.

I called again. The automated voice cut in almost immediately. *The number you are trying to reach is switched off.*

Marshall finally stopped talking. “Mr. Morgan?”

I tapped my finger once against the table, then pushed my chair back and stood.

“I’ll go get her.”

I grabbed my keys off the table and walked out before he could say anything. The drive to the penthouse felt longer than usual.

Traffic lights blurred past the windshield while my hands tightened around the steering wheel hard enough that the leather started digging into my palms. I barely noticed.

I tried to convince myself there were reasonable explanations. But I found none, why Catherine chose to make this hard.

By the time I pulled into the garage, I wasn’t calling this irritation anymore.

---

The elevator opened into silence. I stepped into the penthouse and the quiet hit immediately.

“Catherine?” My voice carried through the living room and disappeared.

No response came back. I loosened my tie as I walked farther inside.

No movement upstairs. Nothing from the kitchen. No sound at all except my own footsteps against the marble.

I checked every room automatically. Nothing.

Everything was still in place. Clean. Organized. Untouched.

I dropped my keys onto the console table, and the sound echoed harder than it normally did.

“Catherine.” I called again. Lower this time.

Her bedroom door was open. I stopped in the doorway for a second before reaching for the light switch.

Warm light filled the room. Then everything inside me went completely still.

The birthday dress was folded neatly in the center of the bed. The pearl earrings beside it. The necklace. The shoes lined up carefully near the foot of the bed.

I stood there staring at it longer than I should have. Then my eyes moved again. And stopped.

Her wedding ring sat beside the jewelry, catching the light against the pale sheets. I looked at it for a long time.

Then I turned toward the wardrobe. The door opened easily. Almost empty.

Six hangers. Maybe seven. I counted twice without meaning to.

Everything else was gone. I stood there doing the math on that before I could stop myself.

The bathroom felt worse somehow. The shelves were empty. I opened the cabinet. Empty too. I wasn’t even sure what I was checking for anymore.

I stayed there a few seconds, then walked back into the bedroom because there was nothing left in the bathroom that needed me standing in it. I sat down slowly on the edge of the bed.

The mattress dipped under my weight. My eyes drifted to the nightstand.

A faint circle marked the dust on the surface. Something had sat there long enough to leave an outline behind.

I stared at it, trying to remember when Catherine had started sleeping in this room instead of mine. I couldn’t.

Three years. And I hadn’t even noticed when my wife moved out of our bedroom.

Something on the dining table caught my attention as I walked through the living room. The papers.

I crossed the room immediately and picked them up, flipping through the pages until I reached the settlement section. Then I stopped.

*Declined.* Written in her handwriting.

Her signature sat neatly beneath it, precise and controlled. I stood there staring at the page.

Then her voice came back to me without warning.

*Hold my hand when we walk in. You gave me one night. This is part of it. After tonight, I’ll disappear from your life.*

I hadn’t believed her. Then the rest of the night came back in pieces.

I remembered leaving the hotel. Getting into the car. Driving away without once asking how Catherine was getting home.

I lowered the papers slowly back onto the table. She’d crossed through all of the things my lawyers decided was appropriate compensation for her.

---

I went to my study and opened the bottom drawer of my desk. The folder was exactly where I’d left it.

Untouched since my father handed it to me after the wedding. I barely remembered the conversation attached to it. At the time, I hadn’t cared enough to listen properly.

I carried the folder back to the desk and opened it again. Marriage records.

Legal agreements I’d skimmed three years ago without paying much attention to what they actually said. I turned the pages more slowly this time.

Then something slipped loose and fell onto the desk. A folded sheet of paper. My father’s handwriting.

I picked it up and unfolded it carefully.

*She risked her life to save yours.*

I went still. Read it again.

*And she stayed afterward without asking for anything in return. You’re lucky to have her.*

Something tight started building slowly in my chest as I kept reading.

*She really loves you. I hope you’re worthy of her someday.*

I read the line three times.

The words didn’t change. I folded the paper. Opened it again.

Then I stopped because doing it again wasn’t going to help anything, and I knew that.

*I hope you’re worthy of her someday.*

I folded the note carefully along the original crease and slid it into the other documents. Then I picked up my keys and went outside.

The security guard straightened as soon as he saw me.

“Mr. Morgan.”

I stopped in front of his desk. “When did you last see Mrs. Morgan?”

He hesitated briefly.

“Four days ago, sir.”

Four days. I looked at him without speaking.

He shifted slightly in his chair, like he wasn't certain.

“Since then,” he added carefully, “I haven’t seen her.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out without taking my eyes off him. Melissa.

I watched her name flash across the screen once. Twice. Then I declined the call and dialed Reno instead.

He answered immediately.

“Find out where Mrs. Morgan went.”

Silence for half a second. Then, carefully, “Sir, I don’t think—”

“Before evening, Reno.” Another pause.

“…Okay, sir.”

I ended the call and sat back in the driver’s seat without starting the engine. The parking garage was quiet.

But for the first time in years, the silence around me felt loud. My phone rang again. Reno.

I answered immediately. A short pause met me first.

“I found something sir,” he said slowly. My grip tightened around the phone.

“Mrs. Morgan boarded a flight four days ago.” Something in my chest dropped. “But we couldn't trace where she went, sir.”

I leaned back against the seat and stared through the windshield for a second without really seeing anything. Four days.

She told me exactly what she planned to do. And I had looked at her and decided she didn’t mean it.

I was wrong about that. Lately, I was starting to realize I’d been wrong about a lot of things.