Dorothy nodded.

“Then we’ll figure out what comes next.”

For the first time since Preston had left, I stopped waiting for his phone call.

I started making my own.

Chapter 4: The Secret Behind Our Beautiful Mansion

My father, Franklin Bellamy, had spent forty years building a successful commercial property business in Rhode Island.

He was a practical man who believed that trust was important, but documentation was essential.

When Preston and I married, my father welcomed him into the family.

He also helped us purchase our Westport home.

The mansion was valued at approximately five million dollars, and although Preston loved introducing it as his personal achievement, the ownership arrangement was more complicated.

A family property company held the title, while Preston and I had been allowed to live there under an agreement my father helped establish.

Preston knew this.

What he apparently believed was that my father would never question how he used the property or the money associated with it.

After seeing the photographs, I asked my father to visit me.

He arrived the following morning with our family’s attorney, Rebecca Sutton.

I expected to discuss separation and custody arrangements.

Instead, Rebecca showed me financial documents that made my stomach tighten.

Over the previous eighteen months, Preston had arranged several questionable transfers involving business accounts connected to our household expenses and investments.

Some payments had gone to unfamiliar companies.

Others appeared connected to luxury travel, private accommodations, and purchases I knew nothing about.

The financial records also showed that Preston had tried to use the mansion as part of a financing arrangement without obtaining the approvals required under its ownership documents.

“Can he do that?” I asked.

Rebecca shook her head.

“Not legally under the terms of this agreement. We’re reviewing every transaction, but the documents give us grounds to challenge what he’s attempted.”

My father sat quietly across from me.

“Camille, I should have looked more closely when his business started struggling.”

I reached for his hand.

“Dad, none of us expected this.”

Rebecca explained that Preston’s financial situation was far worse than he had admitted.

His company had significant obligations, several investors were demanding explanations, and the property-related financing was under review.

The beautiful lifestyle he displayed to the world had been supported by financial decisions that were now unraveling.

“What happens to the house?” I asked.

“The disputed financing could place the property at risk,” Rebecca said. “But we have a strong basis to protect the family’s ownership interest.”

I looked at Owen sleeping peacefully in his bassinet.

Suddenly, the chandeliers, marble floors, and expensive furniture meant nothing to me.

“I don’t want the house,” I said. “I want a safe home for my son.”

My father nodded.

“Then that’s what we’ll give him.”

Chapter 5: Four Days Before He Returned

Eleven days after Preston disappeared, I was strong enough to leave the hospital and begin settling into a temporary home.

I had already decided I would not be there when he returned.

Rebecca helped me arrange the practical details.

I gathered Owen’s clothes, medical records, photographs, and the few personal belongings that truly mattered.

Dorothy helped pack the nursery.

She moved quietly through the room, folding tiny blankets and placing baby clothes into soft cotton bags.

At one point, she picked up the blue knitted sweater Preston had purchased months earlier.

“Should I pack this too?” she asked.

I looked at it for a moment.

“Yes. Owen shouldn’t lose something useful just because his father made terrible choices.”

Dorothy gave me a small, approving smile.

By afternoon, the nursery shelves were almost empty.

I walked through the house one last time.

I remembered choosing the curtains, planning holiday dinners, and standing beside Preston in the kitchen when we first learned we were expecting a baby.

For years, I had thought those memories proved we were happy.

Now I understood that beautiful moments could exist inside a relationship that was slowly becoming unhealthy.

On the dining table, I placed a large cream-colored envelope.

Inside were copies of the vacation photographs, relevant travel receipts, a formal separation notice, and documents explaining the legal proceedings involving the property.

I included a brief handwritten letter.

Preston,

While you were away, our son was born.

I needed you, and you chose not to be there.

I know about Sienna. I also know about the financial decisions you’ve been hiding.

I will not argue with you about what happened. The documents speak for themselves.

Any communication concerning Owen or our separation must go through the appropriate arrangements.

I hope one day you understand what you have lost.

Camille.

I sealed the envelope.

Then I carried Owen outside, where my father’s car was waiting.

Dorothy followed with our bags.

As we drove away, I looked back at the enormous stone house.

I expected to feel devastated.

Instead, I felt something I hadn’t experienced in months.

Relief.

Chapter 6: Twenty-Four Roses and One Empty House

Preston found the envelope exactly where I had left it.

According to the account he later gave Rebecca, he initially believed I was trying to frighten him into apologizing.

He placed the roses on the dining table and opened the envelope with an irritated expression.

The first photograph showed him beside Sienna at a seaside resort.

The second showed the two of them dining together.

The travel receipts confirmed the dates.

Then he unfolded the separation notice.

Finally, he read the documents concerning the property and the financial review.

He called me immediately.

I didn’t answer.

He called again.

And again.

Eventually, he left a voicemail.

“Camille, this has gone too far. Whatever you’re upset about, we can talk like adults. Just tell me where you are.”

A few minutes later, another message arrived.

“I brought gifts for you and Owen. I was planning to surprise you. Please don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be.”

I listened to both messages while sitting beside Owen’s crib at my father’s Newport home.

For a moment, the familiar sound of Preston’s voice made my chest ache.

Then I looked at my son.

I remembered the hospital.

I remembered the unanswered calls.

I remembered how desperately I had wanted Preston to appear in the doorway and tell me everything would be okay.

I deleted the messages from my immediate view and forwarded the relevant communications to Rebecca.