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The townhouse looked the same. All the jewelry. All the gifts. The things he'd bought her, still in their places.

But the things Seraphina had brought of herself were gone.

The blanket she'd knitted. Her everyday things. Her photos. Even her half of the family portraits on the wall had been cut out.

His throat tightened.

He called her again.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

He dialed again. And again. Same message.

The pressure in his chest got worse. Fear sank its teeth in.

No — her mother and her brother were at the hospital. She was probably there, keeping them company.

That had to be it.

He drove.

He walked into the hospital with his heart in his throat. He pushed the door open.

The beds had been stripped. The room was clean.

Her mother and her brother were gone.

The blood in his veins stopped.

"What —"

He was about to call his assistant when a text from him came first.

"Mr. Thorne. A package arrived at the house. From Mrs. Thorne. You need to come back. You need to sign for this personally."

Something about her pulled him back together. His face got a little color back.

He walked out, stumbling.

He drove two hours in one. First time in his life every red light felt like a year.

He threw the front door open.

"Sera —"

The house was empty.

"Sera?"

His assistant appeared.

"About the package, Mr. Thorne. We... we received a divorce decree."

"Yours and Mrs. Thorne's."