9 Chapter 9
“Ma’am, please be advised, your former U.S. identity has been officially nullified. All associated accounts and services are now inactive.” O
I gave a simple nod and walked onto the plane without a single look back.
From this point forward, the world was my canvas–and I was a ghost.
When Wright returned to the penthouse, Lucia was still trailing him, much to his obvious
irritation.
“We just spent three straight days together. What more do you want? It’s time for you to go.”
Lucia pouted, her hand moving to rest on her stomach. “It’s not me who doesn’t want to leave you. It’s our baby. The baby needs you here.”
“Fine. Wait in the car. I’ll take you to dinner later, okay?”
Her face lit up instantly. “Of course! I’ll be waiting.”
Wright adjusted his collar and doused himself in cologne, trying to erase Lucia’s scent. Once he was sure there was no trace of her left on him, he entered the penthouse, a confident smile on his face.
“Darling, I’m home!”
He was met with a deep, unnerving silence.
There was no answer.
A cold dread washed over Wright. “Rannie? Honey, where are you?”
He moved through the vast, empty space, his calls growing more frantic with each step.
“Rannie? Rannie!
His voice echoed off the bare walls, unanswered.
The housekeeper, Maria, came in from the service entrance, and Wright accosted her immediately.
His eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed her by the shoulders, his voice shaking. “Where is my wife? Where did Rannie go?”
Maria looked confused. “Your wife… I thought she left on a long trip. Sir, you didn’t know?”
“A long trip?”
For a fleeting moment, Wright felt a wave of relief. He fumbled for his phone and dialed Rannie’s number, but it went straight to a disconnected message.
02.20
9 Chapter 9
His chest tightened painfully.
“Oh, sir,” Maria added, her words hitting him like a physical blow. “Before she left, your wife said to remind you to open your gift.”
“Gift? What gift?”
Suddenly, the image of the wooden box flashed in his mind. He was moving before he even knew it, his legs carrying him on instinct.
He bolted up the stairs to his study, stumbling on the top step, but he didn’t feel the pain. He couldn’t waste a second.
He tore the lid off the box, his hands shaking so violently he could barely hold the papers inside. As he unfolded them, the stark, black–and–white words of the divorce agreement stared back at
him.
“Divorce? Rannie wants a divorce?”
He gasped, the air knocked out of his lungs. His wild eyes darted around the room, landing on the massive, empty space on the library wall where her beautiful mural had once been.
It was gone.
“Maria! Maria, the mural! What happened to the painting?” he yelled, his voice raw with a desperate, rising panic.
Maria appeared in the doorway, her expression one of utter confusion. “Sir, I don’t come into your study, but I did see your wife painting the wall white several days ago.”
Wright’s world tilted. Without another word, he sprinted to their bedroom.
The scene there was even worse. Rannie’s pillows, her blankets, even the custom–made lamp on her bedside table were all gone.
He flung open the doors to their massive walk–in closet. Only his suits–a monotonous sea of black, white, and gray–remained. All of Rannie’s vibrant, colorful clothes had vanished.
Wright felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him. He sagged against the wall, clutching his chest, fighting for breath.
He grabbed his phone, his first instinct to call Rannie’s friends, but as he scrolled through his contacts, a horrifying realization dawned on him. He didn’t have a single one of their numbers.
