Chapter 11
Kaden hesitated outside Hannah’s hospital room, fidgeting with the Tiffany bag in his hand. Inside was a platinum tennis bracelet he’d sneaked away to buy while Phoebe was trying on clothes at Saks.
He wasn’t even sure why he’d bought it. Hannah always brushed off his attempts at “compensation,” but something compelled him to get it anyway. Guilt? Obligation? Something else he couldn’t name?
He tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. “Hey, you awake?”
The room was empty. Not just empty–cleared out. The bed was made with hospital corners, the bedside table wiped clean. Even her phone charger was gone.
A cold feeling settled in his stomach.
“Maybe they moved her for tests,” he muttered, though he didn’t believe it.
He flagged down a nurse who was updating charts nearby. “Excuse me–Hannah Humphrey’s room? Did they move her somewhere?”
The nurse glanced up from her tablet. “Mrs. Humphrey? She checked herself out AMA this morning.”
“AMA?”
“Against medical advice.” The nurse looked confused. “Wasn’t that the plan? She said her husband knew.”
“Well her husband didn’t know,” Kaden snapped, immediately regretting his tone. “Sorry. Did she say where she was going?”
“No, but she was in a hurry. Refused the discharge wheelchair, wouldn’t wait for prescriptions… seemed like she had somewhere important to be.”
Kaden pulled out his phone and hit Hannah’s number on speed dial. It went straight to voicemail. He tried texting:
Where are you? Call me when you get this Hannah seriously what’s going on?
The messages showed as undelivered. His heart rate kicked up a notch.
Contract. When Regret Comes Too Late
7.5%
Chapter 11
Where would she go? The house. She had to be at the house.
Kaden raced to his car, driving like a maniac through midtown traffic. He blew through a yellow light, narrowly missed a bike messenger, and finally screeched into their driveway.
The moment he pushed open the front door, he knew. The house had that unmistakable emptiness–not just unoccupied, but abandoned.
“Hannah?” His voice echoed through the foyer. Nothing.
Then he spotted it–the deliberate arrangement on the coffee table that couldn’t possibly be missed
Their divorce certificate. The signed agreement. Her wedding ring.
“What the fuck?” he whispered, picking up the certificate with hands that weren’t quite steady. The
issue date was that morning.
“How…?” But even as the question left his mouth, it hit him. That night when Phoebe had caled. when Hannah said she needed to discuss something important… when he’d told her to “just handle
it” and rushed out.
That’s what she’d been trying to tell him. That’s what he’d blindly signed.
“God damn it!” He slammed his palm against the wall. If he’d known what she was asking, he never would have signed it. He would have stopped this whole thing immediately.
He picked up her wedding ring, turning the platinum band between his fingers. It was still warm, like she’d just taken it off. This had been on her finger for five years, through everything–and now she’d left it behind like it meant nothing.
A weird, tight feeling spread across his chest as memories surfaced:
Their wedding day. How beautiful she’d looked, even though neither of them had wanted to be there. Their polite conversations over breakfast. How she’d always folded his laundry, even though he told her the housekeeper would do it. The nights together–careful, considerate, respectful
It hadn’t been passionate, but it had been… good. Comfortable. So why this sudden exit without a word?
He took the stairs two at a time, bursting into their bedroom. Her side of the closet was empty–not just a few things missing, but methodically cleared out. Her nightstand drawers pulled clean. The bathroom counter bare of her lineup of skincare products.
7.8
Chapter 11
This wasn’t impulsive. She’d been planning this.
A hollow feeling opened up in Kaden’s chest as he moved through the house, room by room, looking for any trace she’d left behind. Finally, in his office, he yanked open the bottom desk drawer and
found it–a document he hadn’t looked at in years.
His hands weren’t quite steady as he unfolded the contract they’d both signed five years earlier:
Marriage Contract and Terms of Dissolution
There it was in black and white–their,“arrangement” spelled out in cold legalese:
…a marriage of mutual convenience for a period of exactly five (5) years… …to fulfill family obligations and facilitate business partnerships……each party maintains separate romantic attachments……automatic dissolution on the five–year anniversary date…
Kaden sank into his desk chair, the paper slipping from his fingers.
The contract had expired. Yesterday marked exactly five years. She wasn’t running away–she was just following the plan they’d agreed to. Their business deal had concluded, and she was moving on. As agreed.
He’d become so used to their comfortable routine that he’d completely forgotten about the expiration date.
But Hannah hadn’t forgotten. She’d been counting down the days all along.
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