THE CEO'S UNLOVED WIFE ✅

Chapter IX: Distress

(The day after Kaitlyn left)

As Mr. McGuain, Dean's seasoned 50-year-old attorney, entered the office, Dean welcomed him with a handshake and a warm gesture to take a seat. The ambiance of the room held a certain gravity, and the secretary promptly handed Mr. McGuain a cup of coffee.

"Good to see you again, Mr. McGuain. Please, have a seat. Thank you for coming." Dean greets them with a business smile as usual.

Mr. McGuain reciprocated the handshake and settled into the creaking leather chair, acknowledging with a nod.

They exchanged pleasantries before delving into the discussion about the divorce papers, the formalities of legal proceedings hanging in the air.

"Kaitlyn finally signed the papers, and everything is in order," Dean adds.

Mr. McGuain, with a measured tone, inquired, "It's a significant step. Have you reviewed the details thoroughly?"

"I've glanced through them. Everything seems in order, as expected."

The hum of the office machinery provided a backdrop as Mr. McGuain leaned forward, emphasizing the importance of scrutiny.

"It's crucial to ensure there are no ambiguities. This marks a substantial change in ownership and legal responsibilities."

Dean, with a hint of impatience, responded, "I understand. I just want this process to be over."

Mr. McGuain, accepting the papers, assured Dean, "I'll process these as soon as possible. You'll be notified once everything is finalized."

A brief pause followed as Mr. McGuain seemed to recall something. He opened his briefcase and took out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Dean.

"This is from Ms. Kaitlyn Ashenwood. She asked me to pass it along."

Dean, a bit surprised, took the folded paper. "From Kaitlyn? What is it?"

Mr. McGuain: "I didn't open it, Dean. She simply asked me to give it to you."

Dean, intrigued, nodded his thanks. As Mr. McGuain spoke his goodbyes and left Dean's office. Dean, feeling a mixture of relief and curiosity, leaned back in his chair. He slowly unfolded the paper that Mr. McGuain had handed him, eager to discover the contents. The unexpected note from Kaitlyn Ashenwood intrigued him.

As Dean read the words written by Kaitlyn, a sense of thoughtfulness emanated from the message. The complexities of the divorce proceedings were momentarily set aside, replaced by the personal touch of a note from someone who was once a significant part of his life.

Dean,

I've been sitting here, pen in hand, trying to figure out how to say what's been stuck inside me. First off, I gotta say I'm sorry. Forcing you into something you didn't want was messed up. I messed up.

Remember when we were just kids, friends running around, and then somehow, we ended up here—married in a way that didn't feel right? Even that night you held me, the first time, it hit me. It felt like the last time you'd hold me. Life's just crazy, isn't it?

So, here's the thing. I did something. I sold everything I got from my dad and gave it to you. I guess it's my way of saying sorry, even if it's all messed up. I want to give back everything you gave me, but there's this one thing I can't talk about. Some things just sit better in silence.

I heard about you and Jane. I hope she brings you the happiness I couldn't. You can marry her now, just like you wanted. I genuinely wish you all the best.

But now, I gotta step back, let you go. It hurts, but it's time. So, here's my goodbye, Dean. I hope life treats you right.

Always,
Kaitlyn

Dean chuckled nervously as he held Kaitlyn's letter in his hands. The simplicity of her words resonated deeply, a raw honesty that struck a chord within him. The nervous laughter carried a tinge of unease, a way to cope with the weight of emotions he didn't fully grasp.

"It's like she's saying goodbye," he mumbled to himself, the words hanging in the air as he processed the intimate farewell within the letter. The chuckle masked a hint of vulnerability, a realization that these might indeed be her last words to him.

With a sigh, Dean leaned back, allowing the reality of Kaitlyn's departure to settle in. The nervous laughter faded into a contemplative silence, the weight of her words lingering in the room like an unspoken farewell.

Out of nowhere, he frantically grabbed his phone and keys, Dean's heart raced as he left his office. The elevator ride felt agonizingly slow, each floor passing like an eternity. Exiting the building, he headed straight to his car, the urgency palpable in every step. The engine roared to life as he sped away, the tires screeching against the pavement.

In the confined space of his car, Dean dialed Kaitlyn's number with trembling fingers. Each ring seemed to stretch indefinitely, amplifying the gnawing worry in his chest. As the call went unanswered, a sinking feeling settled in. Her phone, once a familiar link, had now become an impenetrable barrier.

He redialed, the desperation in his attempts evident. The sound of the voicemail greeting added to the heaviness that hung in the air. Dean's thoughts raced, contemplating the possibilities of where she might be, the uncertainty becoming more pronounced with every passing moment.

Driving through the city streets, he couldn't shake the sense that time was slipping away. The phone calls persisted, but Kaitlyn remained elusive. The once-familiar routes now felt like a labyrinth of uncertainties, mirroring the complexities of their relationship.

Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he navigated the roads, a mix of anxiety and determination propelling him forward. The realization that Kaitlyn might be truly gone spurred him into a frenzied search, each unanswered call intensifying the ache of separation.

In the early afternoon, Dean arrived at Kaitlyn's father's residence with a sense of urgency. The caretaker, an elderly figure, opened the gate as Dean hurriedly made his way inside. His footsteps echoed against the pathway, the quiet daylight amplifying the unease that gnawed at him.

Reaching the mansion's door, Dean's hand hesitated on the knob before he could turn it. The caretaker, observing him with a quizzical gaze, finally spoke up.

"Can I help you, sir? What brings you here?"

Dean, breathless from the rush, replied, "I'm looking for Kaitlyn. She mentioned she'd be here."

The caretaker furrowed his brow, his eyes scanning Dean as if searching for familiarity.

"I'm afraid there's been no one living here since the master's burial. Are you sure you have the right place?"

The revelation of Kaitlyn's father's burial struck Dean like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the breath out of him. He stood there, frozen, trying to process the shock. The caretaker's words echoed in his mind – a burial that had happened without his knowledge, a life-altering event that had occurred in the shadows.

His voice trembled as he sought clarification, "Kaitlyn's father... he passed away? When did this happen?"

The caretaker, with a solemn nod, confirmed the news, providing minimal details about the circumstances. A wave of questions crashed over Dean – Why hadn't he known? How could such a significant event unfold without reaching him? And then the realization struck – Kaitlyn's absence, those mysterious days, were shrouded in mourning for her father.

Dean's legs gave way beneath him, and he found himself seated on the entrance door steps. The weight of the revelation settled heavily on his shoulders, disbelief, and sorrow intertwining in a complex dance. The world seemed to slow down as he grappled with the enormity of the information.

The caretaker, recognizing Dean's distress, left him alone with his thoughts. Dean sat there, the shock still etched across his face, trying to make sense of a reality that had shifted beneath his feet. The knowledge of Kaitlyn's father's passing cast a new light on the events that had unfolded, leaving Dean in a state of profound disbelief, his mind wrestling with the implications of a truth he hadn't seen coming.