Chapter 11
Where could Cassie have gone?
Callum pressed his fingertips against his throbbing temples, the silence of the hospital room suddenly oppressive. After a moment, he grabbed his phone and called Matt, his voice carrying an unfamiliar edge.
“Find the Brooks family. Now. See if they know where Cassie’s disappeared to,”
His assistant’s confused response barely registered as Callum ended the call, his mind already racing backward through recent interactions with his wife. Had she left any breadcrumbs? Any indication the was planning to
vanish?
The memory hit him with unexpected force–the gift box she’d handed him just before his surgery. A birthday present, she’d called it, though his birthday was still two weeks away.
The timing was odd. Why give him something so far in advance unless…
Where had he put it? The recollection surfaced through a fog: preoccupied with thoughts of Laurina on the operating table, he’d barely acknowledged Cassie’s presence. He’d reflexively passed the box to Matt without even a perfunctory thank you.
Callum jabbed at his phone again.
“One more thing–bring me that box Cassie gave me before the surgery. The red one.”
Staring out at the rain streaking his window, an unfamiliar hollowness expanded in his chest as fragments of Cassie’s recent behavior played through his mind like warning signs he’d completely missed.
He recalled watching her methodically dump their shared history into trash bags–vacation photos, monogrammed towels, the tiny collection of onesies and stuffed animals she’d begun accumulating. When he’d confronted her, her voice had been unnervingly flat.
“I’m not angry. And I don’t want the gifts.”
Her wall of silence when he’d pressed further. The way she’d physically stopped his hand from touching her belly with that unexpected question:
“You and Laurina were college classmates?”
He’d awkwardly changed the subject, but now a cold suspicion formed. Had she somehow discovered the truth? The photographs in his study? The journal entries? Had she somehow overheard something?
Their final exchange replayed in his mind. He’d mentioned his fictional business trip to Australia, and she’d responded with that unsettling calm:
“It’s fine, Callum. I’m used to it.”
10:14 O
Addio To The Stand–In Past, This Time I Chose To Reclaim My Own Life
7.3%
“Head to what?” he asked,
She hadn’t answered.
in retrospect, all the signs had been there her emotional withdrawal, the cryptic statements, the strange resignation in her eyes. How had he missed it?
Matt arrived twenty minutes later, slightly out of breath. “I’ve initiated the search for Mrs. Reid, but it might take time. Her credit cards haven’t been used for days”
“Work faster,” Callum ordered without looking up, already lifting the box’s lid.
His hands froze as he stared at the contents: divorce papers, bearing his own signature. A divorce certificate, already finalized.
“What the hell?” he muttered, almost laughing in bewilderment. What kind of game was this? A pregnant woman staging a dramatic disappearance and leaving behind divorce papers like some kind of soap opera twist?
Then his eyes caught sight of another document tucked beneath–a medical form with official hospital letterhead.
The room seemed to tilt sideways as he read the abortion notification. The procedure date matched exactly: the day Laurina had returned to the country.
His vision tunneled, blood rushing in his ears. Their child–gone. Without discussion. Without warning. As if it had meant nothing to her.
His fingertips went numb, the form slipping from his grasp. A crushing pressure built in his chest, radiating outward until even breathing became impossible.
The last thought before darkness claimed him was a strange, disorienting mixture of rage and grief–not for the lost child, but for the shattered illusion of control. The fundamental certainty that had defined his existence–that Cassie would always be there, waiting, no matter what–had evaporated without warning.
Matt’s panicked voice echoed distantly, calling for help as Callum slumped back against the pillows, monitors shrieking in alarm.
