Husband's Heartless Betrayal

I jolted awake at 2 AM, my hand instinctively reaching across the silk sheets to find Greyson's side of the bed cold and empty. The digital clock's harsh red glow seemed to mock me—eight hours until our wedding ceremony.

"Greyson?" My voice echoed through our penthouse. No answer.

I grabbed my phone, calling him for what must have been the tenth time since midnight. Straight to voicemail again.

"Greyson, where are you? I'm getting worried. Please call me back."

My bare feet padded across the marble floors as I checked every room, my heart racing faster with each empty space I encountered. His suit for tomorrow still hung pristinely in the closet. His overnight bag remained unpacked. His wallet and keys were missing, but his passport remained in the safe.

This wasn't like him. Greyson King was many things—ambitious, calculating, sometimes distant—but never irresponsible. Not when it came to us. Not the night before our wedding.

By 3 AM, I'd called everyone—his best man, his business partners, even the concierge who'd seen him leave the building yesterday. The last confirmed sighting: Greyson leaving his office building at 6 PM, telling his assistant he was heading home to me.

My fingers trembled as I scrolled to Caspian's name in my contacts. I hesitated—calling my childhood friend in the middle of the night, the night before I married another man...

But if anyone would help without questions, it was Caspian.

He answered on the second ring, voice instantly alert. "Briar? What's wrong?"

"It's Greyson. He never came home. No one's seen him since yesterday evening. I've called everyone."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

True to his word, Caspian arrived at my door in nineteen, his dark hair still mussed from sleep but his eyes sharp and focused. He didn't waste time with platitudes, just pulled out his laptop and began making calls.

"We need to track his movements systematically," he said, fingers flying over the keyboard. "When exactly did you last speak to him?"

"Around five yesterday. He said he was wrapping up at the office, then heading home to change for our rehearsal dinner."

Caspian nodded, making notes. "And he never showed up at the restaurant?"

"No. I thought he was just running late, but then..."

He squeezed my hand briefly before returning to his laptop. "We'll find him, Briar."

By dawn, we'd pieced together fragments: security footage of Greyson's car leaving his office garage, a parking ticket from downtown, a witness who'd seen him entering a coffee shop near the financial district. Then nothing—as if he'd vanished into thin air.

I paced our living room, wedding dress hanging like a ghost in the corner, as Caspian made call after call. The sun rose over the city skyline, painting everything in cruel, beautiful light. In five hours, I was supposed to be walking down the aisle.

My phone rang—unknown number. I snatched it up.

"Hello?"

A distorted voice, deliberately masked. "Your fiancé is where he deserves to be. Check the