Seven Months Pregnant, She Vanished After Seeing Her Husband With Another Woman — Her Note Changed Everything
The crib was assembled. The paint, a soft whisper white, was dry. But Arena Hayes, seven months pregnant, was gone.
The only thing left was a note taped to the empty nursery door.
Four sentences that would ignite a firestorm.
I saw you.
I know what you are.
Don’t look for me.
The baby deserves better.
When her husband, Marcus Hayes, read those words, his first call wasn’t to the police. It was to his lawyer.
He didn’t feel grief. He felt a cold, sharp panic.
She knew.
But what did she know?
And who had she seen?
To anyone in the affluent American suburb of Silver Creek, Arena and Marcus Hayes had it all.
He was the dynamic, charismatic CEO of Hayes Innovations, a tech startup that had just landed a massive government contract in the United States.
She was the brilliant, beautiful former forensic accountant who had given up her career to support his and who was now seven months pregnant with their first child.
Their sprawling modern home, all glass and polished concrete, was a testament to their success.
But Arena hadn’t given up her skills. She had merely redirected them.
For six months, a tiny cold dread had been growing in her stomach right alongside her baby.
It started with the small things. The hushed phone calls Marcus took on the balcony.
The late nights at the office. The faint trace of an unfamiliar expensive perfume on his shirts. Not her Chanel, but something heavier, muskier.
It was the way he flinched when she touched his phone, the way his eyes slid past hers when she asked about his day.
Marcus, a master of gaslighting, had a defense for everything.
“The calls are sensitive negotiations,” he’d say.
“The scent?
From a client meeting at a cigar lounge. Your questions? Hormonal and paranoid.”
“Arena, honey, you’re overthinking,” he’d coo, rubbing her swollen feet.
“This pressure, it’s all for you. For us. For the baby.”
But Arena had spent a decade tracking multimillion-dollar deceptions.
She knew the patterns of a liar. She knew the scent of a cover-up.
On a Tuesday, her suspicion became a physical, sickening certainty.
Marcus had claimed he was flying to Chicago for a twenty-four-hour merger talk, a last-minute emergency. He’d kissed her forehead, his lips cool, and told her to rest “for the baby.”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
