His Automated Reply Cost Him His Wife Chapter 09

His Automated Reply Cost Him His Wife Chapter 09

When the flight landed at Chicago O’Hare, dawn was just breaking.

Nora moved into the apartment she had rented near Lincoln Park. She didn’t open her suitcases. She just went into the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, and changed her SIM card.

New number, new city, new email address for her lawyer only.

She opened the blinds and watched the morning light spread over Lake Michigan, taking a deep breath of the cold, clean air.

She knew nothing of what was happening in California.

And in that empty home in Marin County, Ethan was like a caged animal.

After being released from the police precinct’s medical station, he locked himself in the house. The home Nora had once kept spotless now looked as if a hurricane had torn through it. Expensive art lay shattered, sofa cushions had been ripped open, and white down feathers drifted through the air.

He paced the empty garage until his gaze landed on an old keychain hanging from the tool wall.

It was brass, engraved in tiny characters with a string of latitude and longitude coordinates: the location of their first apartment.

The one Nora had engraved by hand.

The one he had lied about losing, before secretly having a new key made for Lena and giving it to her.

His throat constricted. He reached for it—

That cold keychain, a symbol of his lie and her love, now felt like a branding iron.

His hand froze in midair.

At two in the morning, the apartment lock clicked softly.

Lena came in, wearing a silk slip dress almost identical to the one Nora had worn at the gala. She had used the spare key she’d secretly copied.

She saw Ethan kneeling on the floor of the ruined living room, surrounded by broken glass and torn documents.

She immediately put on her most worried expression and trotted over, crouching down to touch his shoulder.

“Ethan? I called you so many times… I saw Nora leave the gala early. Was she throwing a tantrum again? She’s always so immature, especially on a night like—”

She didn’t finish.

Ethan turned.

Gauze was still taped to his forehead, blood having seeped through to stain the white fabric. His eyes were like bottomless pits, devoid of light.

He stared hard at Lena, his gaze moving slowly from her face to the dress she had deliberately copied.

There was a dull blankness in his eyes, as if something inside him had been punctured.

Then the blankness shattered, replaced by something far more terrifying.

“Where is she?” His voice was so dry it sounded like it was being scraped from a rusted pipe.

Lena’s smile froze.