Gwen blinked, confused. “Now?” she asked, her voice low. “Can it wait?” Elizabeth gave a gentle shake of her head. “I wish it could. But the service is in three days, and these need to go out today to confirm everything. It’s just a few signatures—I’ve checked the totals already.”
Gwen sighed and sat up slowly. Her hands were unsteady, but she took the pen. Elizabeth flipped the pages, pointing to the spots with sticky tabs. “Just here… and here… and this one.” Gwen signed each one. Her mind was cloudy, and she trusted Elizabeth had checked everything.
Hours later, Gwen woke up to a completely silent house. She called Elizabeth’s name, but got no response. Gwen got up, still groggy, and walked to the guest room. The bed was empty. Her suitcase—gone. Not a trace.
In the kitchen, Gwen finally found a note stuck to the refrigerator. Elizabeth’s handwriting was quick, as if written on the go. Found a hotel I could stay in—decided to move over there. That was all. No goodbye. No explanation. Gwen stood there, confused. Why would she leave in such a hurry?
Gwen stood in the kitchen longer than she realized, the note still in her hand. She called Elizabeth, twice. Straight to voicemail. A third time, just to be sure. Same result. She stared at the fridge, heart pounding, unsure what had just happened—or why it felt so wrong.
She debated texting but hesitated. What would she even say? She didn’t want to seem needy. Elizabeth was an adult. She had every right to leave if she wanted. Still, the silence sat heavy on Gwen’s chest. She put the phone down and quietly went back to bed.
The next morning, Gwen woke to five missed calls from her lawyer. Her chest tightened. She didn’t waste time with coffee. Instead, she called him back immediately, pressing the phone to her ear with growing dread. Something in her already knew this wouldn’t be a routine conversation.
“Hi Gwen,” he said. “I was trying to reach you yesterday. I just need your signature on the insurance paperwork to finalize everything. The rest of the transfer is done.” Gwen furrowed her brow. “What transfer?” she asked slowly. Her voice felt far away, like it belonged to someone else.
“Elizabeth submitted the documents yesterday evening,” he said. “The house, the accounts, Albert’s car—all the legal assets. You’d signed off on everything earlier this week. I just need your sign-off on the life insurance form now.” Gwen went silent. She could hear the sound of her own breath.
She didn’t even say goodbye. She hung up and dropped the phone on the counter. Her heart raced. The invoices. The sticky notes. The signatures. Her hands shook as her mind replayed the scene—Elizabeth standing over her, calm, reassuring. Gwen had signed everything. And she hadn’t read a word.