Chapter 7 - The Hunt for the Lost Wife
Driven by sheer desperation and dying of a failing body, Spencer poured tens of millions of dollars into hiring private investigators, intelligence operatives, and tech analysts to track down Payton Vance.
For three agonizing months, every lead came back empty. Payton had cleared her digital footprint flawlessly.
Meanwhile, in coastal Maine, Payton was entering her eighth month of pregnancy. Her quadruplets were full-term for a multi-fetal pregnancy.
On a bright Tuesday afternoon, while Payton was resting on her porch reading a book, a silver SUV pulled up the winding gravel driveway.
The door opened, and a gaunt, frail man stepped out. He relied heavily on a walking cane, his face pale and hollow, his hands trembling violently as he took slow steps toward the porch.
Payton stood up, her breath catching in her throat.
"Spencer?" she whispered.
May you like
Spencer stopped at the base of the porch steps. His eyes drifted down from her face to her large, rounded bump. His mouth fell open, his cane slipping from his weak fingers and clattering against the wooden steps.
"Payton..." Spencer choked out, tears instantly spilling over his gaunt cheeks. "You're... you're pregnant?"
