Chloe was gone. Not a temporary silent treatment, not a passing cold war, but a complete severance of their ties, a quiet, ghost-like disappearance from his world. This realization struck him like a heavy blow to the head, making his ears ring, instantly swallowing his anger into something much larger and far more foreign. It was an icy sensation compounded of shock, confusion, and a sliver of panic that he refused to acknowledge.

Did she leave any note? Or take anything with her? He heard his own voice sound raspy and dry. Rattled by his grim expression, Mary stammered frantically, "I'll go check Mrs. Vance's bedroom and the study right now."

Ethan didn't move. He stood still, his gaze slowly scanning the space he called home, a place he had never truly cared to look closely at. Massive, luxurious, pristine, yet cold, hollow, devoid of any warmth or signs of life. When Chloe was here, it had seemed much the same.

She always kept everything neat and orderly without making a sound, like a muted background shade. Her presence was taken for granted to the point where he barely registered her existence until now, when that background shade was abruptly torn away, exposing a glaring, painful void. Mary came hurrying downstairs. In her hand was a light blue envelope, her voice trembling.

"Sir, sir, I found this on Mrs. Vance's vanity table, tucked under her jewelry box." Ethan snatched the envelope. It was feather-light, bearing Chloe's elegant handwriting. Just two words on the front, Ethan Vance.

With stiff fingers, he tore it open. Inside, there was no letter, only two thin, neatly cut sheets of paper. One was a signed and thumbprinted divorce agreement with her signature, Chloe Vance, clearly written in precise strokes. Every stroke was firm and pressed deep into the paper.

The other item was a debit card with a small sticky note attached to the back, written in her hand again. "Here is the remainder of the household allowance from the past three years, returned in full." "We are square. May we both find peace apart."

Square. May we both find peace apart. Ethan pinched those two paper-thin items, his fingers turning ice cold. A dead silence fell over the living room, broken only by his increasingly heavy breathing and the howling night wind outside.

Right at that moment, his phone rang. Lily's name flashed across the screen. Normally, he would pick up instantly, but right now, the upbeat ringtone sounded hideously abrasive, almost comical, in the vast, dead quiet of the mansion. He didn't answer.

He simply raised his head and looked out into the heavy night sky outside the window. His throat felt blocked, unable to utter a sound. As it turned out, the little bird that had perched quietly in place, whom he had regarded as his personal possession, hadn't forgotten how to fly. She had merely folded her wings.

And now, she had flown away. She had taken off toward a sky he could never reach or find again. Ethan ignored Lily's call. Standing in the middle of his cold, empty living room holding the divorce papers and debit card, he felt as though he was seeing this house for the very first time.

Without Chloe's presence, its luxury felt like nothing more than a staging room in a high-end hotel, devoid of warmth, devoid of life, and devoid of anyone waiting for him. Mary stood nervously to the side, hesitating. Only after a long pause did Ethan seem to find his voice again, asking dryly, "Mary, do a detailed check of my wife's rooms. See what else she took with her and make a list for me.

Also." He paused, his eyes falling on the debit card in his hand. "Check the transaction history on this account. See how much money she transferred back."

"Yes, sir." Mary responded hastily, rushing upstairs. Ethan walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch. The cold liquid burned down his throat, yet it did nothing to quell the surging anxiety and hollowness in his chest.

He picked up his phone again, ignoring another call and text from Lily, and dialed his executive assistant instead. "Mr. Vance." "Leo, right now."

Ethan said, his voice laced with a tightness even he didn't realize. "Use every resource at our disposal to locate Chloe. Start with the airport security footage from the night she left. Check flights, trains, hotel check-in records, anything that uses her ID.

I want to know where she is within 24 hours." Leo was clearly taken aback. Having worked for Ethan for years, he had never heard him issue orders in such a frantic, composure-lacking tone, and all for his wife. "Understood, Mr. Vance.

I'll handle it immediately." The next 24 hours were an agonizing torment Ethan had never experienced before. He canceled all non-urgent meetings and sat in his study, staring at the shattered pieces of information Leo sent to his computer screen. For the very first time, his entire attention was locked onto the name Chloe Shen.

The fragments slowly came together. She had bought a late-night ticket to Riverbend, a traditional pottery town in the south. She paid for the ticket and all subsequent expenses using a personal bank account he had never seen before. She checked into a B&B named Seven Clouds Lodge under the alias Chloe, staying for seven straight days.

The B&B owner mentioned that Miss Shen was quiet, leaving early each morning and returning late at night. Appearing to wander around town or spend time at an old pottery workshop. "Mr. Vance," Leo reported over the phone, his tone hesitant. There's one more thing.

A week before leaving, Mrs. Vance withdrew all the funds from her interior design studio's business account, about $120,000, and transferred it in three installments to a seldom used personal account. Yesterday, that account transferred $40,000 to the business account of Nie En Studio, with the memo stating, "Comprehensive pottery course and material fees." Pottery? $40,000? Ethan's fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk.