Chapter 4
Maisy's phone rang, it was her investor calling. She picked up, instantly switching to her crisp business tone.
"Mr. Frazier, I've reviewed the proposal we discussed last time. There are a few points I'd like to go over with you..."
By the time she finished the call, Arthur had already been gone for ten minutes.
She set her phone down and glanced at the pen on the table. He'd used her pen to weigh down the agreement. Her pen. He didn't even have a pen of his own.
She thought, 'He'll come back.
'It always ends up like this.'
The day after Arthur left, Maisy threw herself into work as usual. Four meetings, seventeen documents signed, two doctors interviewed, and dinner with a supplier, her schedule was packed.
When she finally got home, it was already one in the morning. Their wedding home was shrouded in darkness.
As she changed her shoes, her foot bumped into a pair of slippers by the cabinet. They were Arthur's, dark blue, the soles worn unevenly from years of use.
She nudged them back into place, then headed upstairs for a shower and some sleep.
The next day, she had admin send a message on WhatsApp. [Is Dr. Russell on the schedule today?]
The reply came back in seconds. [Director Maisy, Dr. Russell resigned yesterday.]
Maisy was stunned for a moment. 'Resigned? I gave him a divorce agreement, not a resignation form.'
She dialed the assistant, her voice colder than usual. "Who signed off on it?"
The assistant, picking up on her mood, answered carefully, "Dr. Russell took care of everything himself.
"The front desk said he just filled out a form, handed in his badge, and walked out. It was a voluntary resignation. He didn't ask for any severance."
Maisy paused. "What about his surgery schedule?"
"We've already rearranged this week's schedule. Dr. Dixon said he can pick up a few extra surgeries, but he'll just have to juggle the timing a bit..."
"Got it."
She hung up. She wanted to call Arthur and ask what he meant, but the number she couldn't reach yesterday was still disconnected today.
She tried three times, and each time, that icy, mechanical voice said, "The number you have dialed is no longer in service."
Maisy blinked in disbelief, 'No longer in service?'
She opened WhatsApp and found Arthur's profile. The picture was still the default gray silhouette, the one he'd never bothered to change.
She opened the chat and typed: [Did you change your number? Give me a call.]
Then she hit send.
A message popped up. [This account has been deactivated. Unable to send message.]
Maisy set her phone down on the desk, her movements barely making a sound. The office was so quiet, she could hear the clock ticking on the wall.
She picked up her phone again and called the property manager for their apartment.
"Hi, this is Maisy Russell, owner of Unit 302. Has anyone been by recently?"
The property manager checked the system and said, "Mrs. Russell, the keys for Unit 302 were dropped off at the front desk two days ago by a man.
"He said you didn't need to hold onto them anymore. You weren't aware?"
Maisy gripped her phone, not saying a word for a long time. The property manager hesitated, then asked, "Hello? Mrs. Russell, are you still on the line?"
Maisy replied, her voice steady, "Yeah, I'm here. Could you check the security footage for me? I want to see if he took anything with him when he left."
The property manager asked her to wait, then came back sounding a bit puzzled. "The footage shows Mr. Russell came into the complex around two in the afternoon two days ago.
"He wasn't carrying anything when he arrived, but when he left, he was carrying a single cardboard box, about this big..."
The manager gestured, though Maisy couldn't see it. "Like the kind you use to ship books. That's all."
Just one cardboard box.
Three years in this place, and all he took was a single box.
"Got it. Thanks," Maisy said.
After hanging up, she leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. A voice in her head told her to stay calm.
'He's just throwing a tantrum. He's got nowhere else to go. For the past three years, his whole world has been the hospital and home. No friends, no social life, no hobbies.'
She suddenly realized she had no idea what Arthur liked to do besides surgery. 'Does he watch movies? Listen to music? Have a favorite food? I don't know a thing about him.
'Who does he even know?'
She could only think of one person.
Reece.
Arthur returned to their home at two in the afternoon.
The sunlight was perfect, and the scent of osmanthus blossoms from the neighborhood drifted in through the slightly open window.
He stood in the entryway for a moment. The house was spotless, Maisy had hired a full-time cleaner who came three times a week.
The marble floors gleamed like mirrors, but the crystal chandelier in the living room had gathered a thin layer of dust.
Maisy hardly ever ate at home, so the dining room was almost never used. That six-seat dining table, bought three years ago, had probably only seen all six seats filled once.
He went upstairs and pushed open the study door. This study was the only space in the entire 3,200-square-foot house that truly belonged to him.