Chapter 4
I took one last look at the place I'd lived for five years.
I didn't want anything anymore.
Even the people I once treasured the most—I didn't want them anymore either.
Mason didn't wake up until late morning.
He rubbed his temples and walked into the living room, only to find it empty.
Even all the things in her room had vanished.
He frowned and tried calling her, but the call didn't connect.
A wave of unease washed over him.
He grabbed his car keys and rushed over to my office.
As soon as he walked in, Mortimer spotted him and greeted him with a cheerful smile, "Mason, what brings you here?
"Is there any paperwork left for Veronica's resignation?"
Mason's eyes widened in disbelief, and his car keys slipped from his hand, hitting the floor.
"Resignation? What are you talking about?" he blurted out.
Mortimer pushed up his glasses, clearly surprised.
"Yeah, Veronica resigned three days ago. She's off to Brentford for five years of study. You didn't know?" he replied.
"Her flight was today; she's probably already landed by now."
Mason stumbled back home, his mind a mess. He fumbled with his keys, turning them in the lock three times before the door finally opened.
He'd done this simple act every day for five years, but today, it suddenly felt strange.
"Dad!" Jamie came running out of his room, barefoot. "Where's Mom? I'm hungry."
Mason mechanically patted Jamie's head, his eyes scanning the empty living room.
One of Veronica's favorite pair of mugs was gone.
Her usual beige slippers were missing from the shoe cabinet.
"Your mom..." Mason's throat tightened, and he gave a bitter laugh. "She's just throwing a tantrum. She'll be back in a bit."
Then he muttered to himself, "Someone like her could never really leave us."
Jamie cocked his head. "Dad, why are all Mom's things gone?"
"You know nothing!" Mason shot back.
Mason's sudden shout made Jamie shrink back.
"She's just being dramatic. Mortimer must've gotten it wrong. With what she's got, there's no way she'd get into Brentford," Mason sneered.
He let out a sudden laugh, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, and poured himself a full glass.
"Your mom barely passed her SAT, and she thinks she can just go to Brenton?" he scoffed.
The amber liquid swirled in the glass.
"Look at her—just a washed-up housewife! She hasn't stepped outside in years. How could she suddenly go all the way to Brenton? Does she even have the guts? Without me, she's nothing!" Mason spat.
Jamie tugged at his dad's sleeve, timidly asking, "Dad, when is Mom coming back to make dinner?"
"Why are you so impatient?" Mason snapped, yanking his tie loose in irritation.
"She'll come crawling back in three days, crying and begging me to forgive her."
He downed the whole glass of whiskey, the fiery burn in his throat doing nothing to put out the anger raging inside him.
At that moment. his phone screen lit up with a message from Adele. [Mason, I love the bag! Let me treat you to dinner tomorrow!]
Normally, he would have replied right away.
But now, he stared at the pink heart emoji.
Suddenly, he remembered that Veronica never used hearts or anything cutesy like that.
She always ended her messages with a proper period—always so proper and dull, just like her.
"Dad!" Jamie shouted, running out of the master bedroom with a piece of paper in his hand. "Mom left a note!"
Mason grabbed it quickly. There were only a few lines written on the paper:
[Mason, Jamie's vaccination records from before he turned five are in the third drawer of the study.
[He's allergic to mangoes, and he needs warm milk before bed.
[And keep Adele away from him. She's managed to let three of her own cats die.]
The handwriting was so neat it was almost painful to look at. No signature, no emotion—just a matter-of-fact checklist, like she was passing off a task.
"She's just pretending," Mason snarled, crushing the note in his fist, then almost frantically smoothing it out again. "She thinks she can scare me with this?"
His phone buzzed with a message from the bank: [The 150,000 dollar transfer from your account to Veronica Pearce has been returned. Your balance is...]
"Fuck!" Mason snarled, slamming his glass down. It shattered on the floor, shards exploding like a dangerous flower. He'd transferred the money this morning.
'I'd already gone above and beyond, so what more does Veronica want?
'Returned it? Alright, so she's got some guts, huh?
'Well, don't expect him to make things easy for her later,' he thought.
"Dad..." Jamie burst into tears, frightened. "I want Mom!"
"Shut up!" Mason roared, his eyes red with anger.
"Your mom's a good-for-nothing. Without me, she can't even afford a place to live! That pathetic salary from the firm—what can she possibly do with it? She..."
But the words caught in his throat.
He suddenly remembered when he happened to spot Veronica's pay slip last month.
That number—wasn't it about a third more than what he gave her for living expenses?
With the booze kicking in, he staggered into the study and yanked open the drawer.
Veronica's design award certificates were lined up perfectly inside, and the gold-embossed "International Architecture Award" on top practically burned his eyes.
"Fake! It's all fake!" he muttered, like he'd lost his mind.
Then he spotted a flight itinerary lying beneath the certificates.