The first flight landed shortly after seven the next morning.

I hadn’t slept.

The older officer, Captain Reed, took me directly from the airport to the Criminal Investigation Department.

Lydia Foster was already there.

The moment she saw me, she stood.

—Maya!

I stepped backward.

—Don’t touch me.

Her face stiffened.

Captain Reed placed his folder on the table.

—Mrs. Foster, yesterday you formally reported your son missing.

Lydia’s eyes moved nervously.

—Yes.

—But you told Ms. Shen that Ethan was hospitalized.

Silence.

Captain Reed leaned forward.

—Which statement was false?

Lydia began crying.

It was almost impressive.

For five years, I had watched that woman produce tears whenever accountability appeared.

—I’m his mother! I was terrified!

—That doesn’t answer the question.

Finally, she whispered:

—I knew where Ethan was.

The room went completely silent.

I stared at her.

—Then why did the police fly to another country looking for me?

She lowered her head.

Captain Reed’s voice hardened.

—Where is your son?

Lydia covered her face.

—St. Matthew’s Private Medical Center.

They found Ethan forty minutes later.

He had been admitted under his mother’s maiden surname.

He wasn’t missing.

He wasn’t kidnapped.

And nobody had harmed him.

He had collapsed the morning of his wedding after receiving information that apparently turned his entire life upside down.

Lydia had taken him to a private clinic through a rear entrance.

Then, because five hundred guests, investors and journalists were already waiting, she panicked.

So she did something astonishingly stupid.

She reported him missing.

Her plan was simple.

A mysterious disappearance would create sympathy.

A groom who disappeared because his new marriage had collapsed before it started would create scandal.

I looked at her.

—And why did you call me?

Lydia’s mouth trembled.

—Because Ethan kept asking for you.

I laughed.

—Of course.

Five years of marriage.

Five years of cooking when he worked late.

Taking him to the hospital.

Remembering medication.

Managing appointments.

Sitting beside his bed whenever he was sick.

Then he divorced me.

And one day later, when everything fell apart, his mother automatically wanted the old caretaker back.

Captain Reed asked:

—What happened before Mr. Foster collapsed?

Lydia said nothing.

That answer arrived from someone else.

Claire Morgan.

The new bride.

She was brought in that afternoon.

Her beautiful wedding makeup had disappeared.

She looked exhausted.

When she saw me, hatred flashed across her face.

—You did this.

I actually looked behind me.

—Me?

—If you hadn’t divorced Ethan—

I laughed.

—Claire, you were supposed to marry him yesterday.

—I think we’ve passed the point where his failed marriage is my responsibility.

Then Captain Reed placed several documents on the table.

That was when I understood.

Two weeks before our divorce, I had completed a twenty-million-yuan merger for Foster Technologies.

The audit had been clean.

But after I resigned, a second internal review examined expenses from Ethan’s executive office.

It uncovered transfers I had never approved.

Consulting fees.

Travel reimbursements.

Property deposits.

More than six million yuan over eighteen months.

Most led to companies connected to Claire’s older brother.

Ethan received the report on his wedding morning.

He confronted Claire.

She admitted that she had introduced her brother to several executives but denied knowing about the suspicious payments.

The argument became enormous.

Ethan cancelled the ceremony.

Then he collapsed from exhaustion and stress.

Lydia took him to the clinic.

And instead of telling anyone the truth, she created the ridiculous disappearance story that ruined my vacation.

Claire stared at me.

—You investigated me.

—No.

I shook my head.

—I was drinking coconut water beside the ocean when the police knocked on my hotel door.

Captain Reed almost smiled.

The financial investigation continued separately.

I was cleared from the missing-person case that same afternoon.

Before leaving, Captain Reed apologized.

—Ms. Shen, you were one of the last people with documented contact. We had to verify your movements.

—I understand.

Then I looked at Lydia.

—But next time someone reports a missing adult, perhaps check whether his mother has already hidden him in a private clinic.

Lydia lowered her head.

I thought I was finished.

Then the clinic called.

Ethan wanted to see me.

I almost refused.

But after losing twenty-four hours of my vacation because of him, I decided I deserved one final conversation.

He looked terrible.

Not dying.

Not helpless.

Just exhausted.

When I entered, his eyes immediately changed.

—Maya.

—Hello, Ethan.

He tried to sit straighter.

—Mom shouldn’t have called you.

—That’s the first sensible thing anyone in your family has said.

He smiled bitterly.

Then he looked at my suitcase beside the door.

—You were really going away for half a month?

—Yes.

—Alone?

I raised an eyebrow.

—We’re divorced.

He looked away.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he said:

—Claire and I aren’t getting married.

—That’s unfortunate.

—You don’t mean that.

—You’re right.

I smiled.

—I don’t care enough for it to be unfortunate.

That hurt him.

I could tell.

He looked at his hands.

—Do you know why I scheduled the wedding the day after our divorce?

I had wondered once.

Not anymore.

Still, I waited.

—Because I wanted everyone to think I had moved on first.

I stared at him.

He laughed at himself.

—I know how pathetic that sounds.

—Very.

—You were too calm when we signed.

His voice became quieter.

—I thought you’d cry.

—Or ask me to reconsider.

—But you just signed and walked away.

So he had scheduled an immediate wedding because my indifference had injured his pride.

Five years.

Reduced to a competition over who cared less.

I stood.

—Thank you for explaining.

He looked alarmed.

—That’s it?

—What else is there?

His eyes reddened.

—Maya… when I woke up, I kept thinking about you.

—That’s because for five years I was the person who came whenever you were sick.

—Exactly.

I shook my head.

—No, Ethan.

—You’re confusing familiarity with love.

That silenced him.

I picked up my suitcase.

—Claire wanted to become your wife.

—Your mother wanted me to continue performing the job.

—And you apparently wanted both arrangements available whenever one failed.

I walked toward the door.

He called my name.

I stopped.

—Could we ever start again?

I looked back.

For years, I had wanted Ethan Foster to ask that question.

Now that he finally had, I felt nothing.

—No.

His face fell.

I continued:

—But perhaps losing me will teach you to stop treating people as positions that can be refilled when convenient.

Three days later, I boarded another plane.

Back to Pattaya.

Same hotel.

Same beachfront suite.

The manager recognized me and apologized repeatedly for the interruption.

I ordered room service.

Turned on the white-noise machine.

Opened the curtains.

And watched the sunset over the water.

The investigation into the suspicious transfers continued.

Claire’s brother became the main subject of the financial case.

Lydia received consequences for giving false information during the missing-person investigation.

Ethan recovered.

None of that required me.

For five years, the Foster family had trained me to believe that being needed meant being loved.

The divorce finally taught me otherwise.

The day after becoming my ex-husband, Ethan disappeared from his own wedding.

His mother immediately called the woman she had spent years taking for granted.

But this time—

I didn’t return to take care of him.

I returned only long enough to prove that his chaos no longer belonged to me.