For one second, that comforted him.
Then he opened the door.
The nursery still had the crib.
The couch still had the folded blanket.
His clothes were still in the closet.
Nothing had been destroyed.
Nothing had been thrown.
That made the emptiness worse.
Madison’s dresser drawers were empty.
Her toothbrush was gone.
Half the bathroom counter had disappeared.
The framed wedding picture near the stairs had been turned face down.
In the kitchen, Rebecca Lawson’s business card sat on the island.
Beneath it was one sealed envelope with Ethan’s name written in Madison’s hand.
He opened it standing up.
Then he sat down.
Legal-separation petition.
Temporary financial preservation.
Medical privacy authorization.
Contact through counsel for legal matters.
No accusations in red ink.
No curse words.
No tear-stained letter.
Just paper after paper showing that Madison had believed him when he said she was on her own.
