Chapter 2 - The Envelope on the Empty Chair
“Where's Kira?”
Blake barely recognized his own voice.
Riley tightened her fingers around his hand.
“She's probably talking to someone.”
Blake looked toward the sweetheart table again.
Kira's bouquet remained beside her champagne glass.
Her chair was empty.
Something about the arrangement disturbed him.
Not the absence itself.
The precision.
Kira never left anything unfinished.
She was the kind of woman who straightened crooked picture frames in restaurants, who remembered the names of hotel employees, who checked every exit when entering an unfamiliar building.
She wouldn't simply disappear from her own wedding reception.
Unless she wanted to.
“Blake?”
He released Riley's hand.
“Excuse me.”
The music continued for another three seconds before the bandleader noticed the groom walking away.
Then the instruments fell silent.
Blake crossed the ballroom.
Guests turned toward him.
His mother, Patricia Adams, stood near the head table with a champagne flute in her hand.
“Darling, what's happening?”
“Have you seen Kira?”
Patricia frowned.
“Not since you started dancing.”
His father looked uncomfortable.
Across the room, Kira's mother was crying.
Not quietly.
Not discreetly.
She stood beside her husband, holding a folded white handkerchief against her mouth.
Blake's stomach tightened.
He reached the sweetheart table.
The envelope was positioned exactly where Kira had been sitting.
His name appeared on the front.
BLAKE.
Written in Kira's unmistakable handwriting.
He opened it.
The first page contained a petition for divorce.
The second contained a letter.
Blake read the opening sentence.
I am not leaving because you danced with Riley.
His pulse accelerated.
I am leaving because you knew it would hurt me, and you decided my pain was less important than her disappointment.
He stopped breathing for a moment.
The letter continued.
For four years, I have watched you make promises to another woman that you never had time to keep for me.
You missed my birthday.
You abandoned our anniversary dinner because Riley had a panic attack.
You canceled the weekend we planned with my grandfather because Riley needed help moving.
And every time I tried to explain how it felt, you told me I was strong enough to understand.
Blake's fingers tightened around the paper.
I was strong enough.
That was never the problem.
The problem was that you kept asking me to prove it.
He turned the page.
Today, when Riley asked you to dance, I finally understood something.
You don't need two women who love you.
You need one woman who needs you and another who never complains when you choose her.
I refuse to be either.
Blake looked up.
Gavin stood ten feet away.
His expression told Blake everything.
“You knew?”
Gavin didn't move.
“Sarah told me Kira was considering leaving.”
“Considering?”
“She said Kira had reached her limit.”
Blake held up the papers.
“Then why didn't you stop her?”
Gavin stared at him.
“Stop her from what?”
“From destroying our marriage!”
A few guests gasped.
Gavin approached slowly.
“Blake, you destroyed your wedding reception in front of three hundred people.”
“It was a dance!”
“Then why are you holding divorce papers?”
Blake had no answer.
Behind him, Riley appeared.
Her eyes widened at the documents.
“Oh my God.”
She reached for Blake's arm.
“Did Kira really leave because of me?”
Blake pulled away.
“I need to find her.”
Riley's expression changed.
For the first time, something other than sadness crossed her face.
Fear.
“Blake, wait. Maybe you should give her some space.”
He ignored her.
He called Kira.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
He opened their shared location app.
Her location was unavailable.
Then he called Sarah Bennett.
She answered on the second ring.
“Where is my wife?”
Sarah's voice was ice.
“Your wife?”
“Don't play games.”
“Interesting. You remembered what she was called.”
“Sarah.”
“You have three hundred witnesses to what happened, Blake. Choose your next words carefully.”
He stepped into the hallway.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“I'm coming to get her.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“She doesn't want to see you.”
“She's upset.”
“She is finished.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
“Neither do you.”
Blake leaned against the wall.
“Sarah, please.”
Silence.
Then Sarah said something he would remember for years.
“She gave you four years to choose her. You gave Riley four minutes in front of everyone who mattered to her.”
The call ended.
Blake stood motionless.
A hotel employee approached.
“Mr. Adams?”
“What?”
The young woman looked nervous.
“Your wife asked me to give you something if you came looking for her.”
She handed him a small velvet box.
Inside was Kira's wedding ring.
The ring he had placed on her finger less than two hours earlier.
Underneath it lay a handwritten note.
You can keep the ring.
I already paid for the wedding.
Blake stared.
He had contributed to the ceremony, hadn't he?
The venue.
The flowers.
The band.
Surely he had paid for something.
Then he remembered Kira telling him three weeks earlier that she had handled the remaining invoices.
He hadn't asked how much.
He hadn't even thanked her.
His phone vibrated.
A message from his mother.
Riley is crying. Please come back. People are asking questions.
For the first time in his life, Blake looked at a message about Riley's distress and felt nothing but exhaustion.
He slipped the ring box into his pocket.
Then he walked toward the hotel entrance.
Outside, Manhattan traffic crawled beneath a gray evening sky.
A black sedan was pulling away from the curb.
Through the rear window, he saw a woman in an ivory wedding gown.
“Kira!”
He ran.
The sedan turned onto Madison Avenue.
“KIRA!”
A taxi horn blared.
Blake stumbled backward.
By the time he reached the corner, the car had disappeared.
He stood in the street, breathing hard.
Then his phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
He answered immediately.
“Kira?”
A man's voice responded.
“Mr. Adams, this is Daniel Whitmore from Whitmore & Hale.”
Blake frowned.
“Who?”
“I'm calling regarding the marital property agreement you signed yesterday.”
Blake's blood turned cold.
“What about it?”
“There appears to be a discrepancy between the document you signed and the version your wife received.”
Blake straightened.
“What discrepancy?”
The attorney hesitated.
“Mr. Adams, did you authorize an amendment giving Riley Parker a financial interest in the apartment you and Mrs. Adams intended to occupy after your wedding?”
Blake stopped breathing.
“No.”
The attorney's next words were almost inaudible.
May you like
“Then someone has forged your signature.”
And the document had been submitted from Blake's own office.
