The Wife Who Vanished: His Eternal Regret

't come hom

rse he

and a mess to clean up that mattered far more

se, the silence of the house pressing ag

wn filtered through the curtains

urning with the gri

lock, the fron

dn't

s, looking pale and terrified, as if he were

white lilies-my favorite-and a

foyer. "Mr. Acosta... he got tied up. He sent these. He s

derst

cloying, suffocating. They looked less like a

. My voice sounded like

a'

er. Throw them in the

obbing. "He... he really wants you to rea

w sound. "If he loved me, Marc

walked into the kitchen, r

r close softly

ed on the cou

of us on our honeymoon in Bali. I swiped

ual. As if he hadn't introduced his illegitimate c

hem with the t

urprise to me too. I wanted to tell you, but the timing was

y against the cold marble counter. "My ambi

ana. But he's my blood. I have to take care of him. I promise, I'll make it up to you. We can sti

pretty, exp

g the door c

ha

ilio. Don't come here tonig

o! You're being unreasonabl

fix a corps

ung

afternoon

master code. Then, I walked through the hous

ilio used when he came home late from "wo

tle of lavender facial mist. He knew

s a spare too

He had simply counted on me being

f a gray blazer, I found a folded photograph. It was recent. Emilio, Hay

s at a conference in

ed it gently on the bed next t

t was unavoidable. The company gala for the schola

ot a mourning d

all, the conversation di

yes. The pit

r. "Hayden is practically his wife in everything but

had been mar

ter, my knuckles turning

wasn't hiding anymore. She wore a white dress

e CFO, laughing about

" she chirped. "I always tel

the easy auth

then instantly rearranged itself into a mask of concer

ed for my arm. "Y

aid, stepping back as

ed through a smile. "Stop actin

enough for the CFO to hear. "I was just the placeholder

d red. "That is not

are going to explain to your gir

held high, though my hands trembl

I watched the cit

's car in the driveway. He wa

g?" I asked, getti

ing to meet my eyes. "He said to... pac

pace fo

side was my architectural model-the one t

the center of the delicate balsa wood

Marcus whispered, the words clearly tasting like ash

broken work.

y. The tear

, and picked up my phone. I dialed A

nswered. "Is e

oice was ice. "Book the fl