The next afternoon, Jason drove back to his house in Bellevue, irritated but confident. He assumed Emily had followed his instructions and gone back to her parents’ home in shame.
Instead, he found the gates standing open.
A moving truck was parked in the driveway. Two workers were carrying furniture out of the house—the crib he had refused to assemble, Emily’s antique dressing table, even the leather chair from his office.
“What the hell is this?” Jason shouted as he stormed toward them. “Who told you to move my things?”
A man in a well-tailored suit stepped out of the front door, holding a leather briefcase. It was Mr. Reynolds, the lawyer who had managed Emily’s family matters for years.
“Mr. Walker,” he said calmly. “Perfect timing.”
“Timing for what? Where’s Emily? Where’s the baby?”
“Mrs. Walker is safe, and her daughter is healthy. Her name is Grace. A fitting name, wouldn’t you say?”
Jason let out an uneasy laugh. “I told her to go back to her parents’. Didn’t expect her to move out this quickly. Fine. I’ll just change the locks.”
Mr. Reynolds remained composed.
