He Bought His Mistress Pearls While His Twins Burned With Fever — Until His Wife Left Before He Unlocked the Door

The brass door handle turned, and the heavy door pushed open. Cole walked into the apartment, brushing fresh snowflakes off his shoulders. He was whistling a faint holiday melody, putting on an exhausted expression as he reached up to untie his scarf.

"Lauren? Babe, I'm back! The lines at the late-night pharmacy were out the door, but I managed to grab the infant drops," Cole called out smoothly, setting a plastic pharmacy bag onto the counter.

No answer came. The apartment was dead silent. The soft hum of the Christmas tree lights and the muted glow of the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows were the only things greeting him.

"Lauren?" Cole frowned, taking three steps into the entryway.

His polished shoe stepped directly onto a hard, rolling object. He stumbled slightly, looking down at his feet.

Lying on the dark hardwood floor was the bright turquoise lid of a Tiffany jewelry box. Surrounding his leather shoes were dozens of white pearls, shimmering beneath the red and green tree lights. Tucked right beside his phone on the console table was the card he had written to Sierra—and the open hotel photo sitting bright on Lauren's unlocked screen.

Cole’s heart stopped. The fake exhaustion on his face shattered into pure, icy terror.

"No... no, no, nononono!" Cole muttered, his breath catching in his throat.

He bolted down the hallway toward the master bedroom. The closet doors were flung wide open. Half of Lauren's clothes were gone. In the nursery, both infant car seats were missing from their docks, and the diaper bags had been wiped clean off the shelves.