The Loving Mom Won't Live to See It Chapter 5

The phone call shattered the peaceful Tuesday morning at the Hartwell home at nine sharp.

"What? Audrey's renouncing her inheritance? Marcus, are you absolutely sure?"

Robert gripped the phone, his voice filled with disbelief.

The lawyer's voice was heavy on the other end. "Mr. Hartwell, the papers were delivered yesterday afternoon. Audrey signed them herself. She's transferring all her assets to Ms. Hailey Jenkins."

"That's impossible!" Margaret rushed from the kitchen and grabbed the phone. "Audrey would never do such a thing!"

"Mrs. Hartwell, the documents are definitely signed by her, and we have video evidence." Marcus sighed deeply. "I've been practicing law for thirty years, and I've never seen anyone give up their inheritance so decisively."

Margaret sank into the nearest chair. "Something's wrong here... Audrey isn't impulsive. She always discusses important decisions with us first."

Robert took back the phone to confirm the details before hanging up. "Exactly. She's been thoughtful since childhood. Even if she really wanted to cut ties with Donald completely, she wouldn't walk away with nothing! That studio represents fifteen years of her life's work!"

"Unless..." Margaret's voice trembled. "Unless she's in serious trouble. When she visited us a few days ago, she was unusually quiet. I thought she was just upset about the divorce."

"Call her right now!" Robert pulled out his phone.

First call: went straight to voicemail. Second call: straight to voicemail. Five consecutive attempts met with the same automated message.

Margaret sent a text: [Audrey, call back immediately, urgent!] The message showed delivered but unread.

"Her phone never goes to voicemail!" Margaret stared at the screen.

Robert checked his call log. "I haven't been able to reach her since ten o'clock last night... Could she be taking the divorce harder than we thought?"

"Even if she were upset, she wouldn't ignore our calls." Margaret grabbed her husband's arm. "Let's call Donald directly. They may be divorced, but he should know where she is."

Robert dialed Donald's number—busy signal. He tried again—still busy. The third attempt rang several times with no answer.

"I can't get through to Donald either. This is strange." Robert frowned.

"Maybe they had another fight?" Margaret worried.

"Whatever's going on, we're going there now!" Robert stood up. "Donald's house first, then the studio if she's not there."

Margaret quickly grabbed her purse. "Let's go. I have a terrible feeling about this."

In the car, they split up to contact Audrey's friends. Margaret called her college roommate Sarah first.

"Mrs. Hartwell, what's wrong?"

"Sarah, has Audrey contacted you recently? Anything unusual?"

A few seconds of silence. "Now that you ask... Audrey came by two days ago. She seemed calm, but she was talking strangely. She said she was going somewhere far away. When I asked where, she just smiled and said 'a place where I won't have to worry about disappointing anyone.'"

Margaret's heart sank. "What else did she say?"

"When we hugged goodbye, she said 'thank you for all these years of friendship.' It felt like... like she was saying farewell." Sarah's voice filled with concern. "Mrs. Hartwell, is Audrey in some kind of trouble?"

Robert called Logan at the studio while Margaret continued her calls.

"Mr. Hartwell, Audrey has been acting very strange these past few days," Logan said worriedly. "She reorganized and labeled all her projects, and said that if they couldn't reach her, she hoped I could take over and complete them."

"Is she at the studio today?"

"No, I haven't seen her today."

Margaret's next call to Elena, the studio's head designer, brought news that nearly devastated her.

"Mrs. Hartwell, Audrey has definitely been acting out of character. She transferred all her major projects, wrote recommendation letters for every employee, and cleaned out her personal belongings from the office. She left very late last night, saying she had one final important piece to complete."

"Is she at the studio today?" Margaret's voice shook.

"I haven't seen her... Wait, let me check her office."

After a moment: "Mrs. Hartwell, her office is locked, but I can see through the window that her computer is still on and there are papers scattered on her desk. That's very unlike her."

The couple's anxiety intensified as they accelerated toward Donald's house.

At Donald's place, Robert pounded on the door. "Donald! Hailey! Anyone home?"

No response. They waited ten minutes—still nothing.

A neighbor poked her head out. "Mr. and Mrs. Hartwell? Are you looking for Mr. Kingsley?"

"Yes, is he home?" Margaret asked urgently.

"Mr. Kingsley got a phone call early this morning that seemed to upset him badly. He rushed off in his car around nine."

Robert and Margaret exchanged anxious glances.

"Let's head to the studio right now!" Robert pulled his wife toward the car.

"If she's not there either..." Margaret gripped her husband's hand tightly. "I'm afraid... I'm afraid Audrey might have done something desperate..."

The drive to downtown felt endless. Throughout the journey, Robert's mind raced with the pieces: giving up her inheritance, transferring assets to her assistant, saying goodbye to friends, cleaning out her office, writing recommendation letters...

"These could all be final preparations..." Robert whispered through his tears. "What if our daughter was preparing for something terrible?"

Margaret stared out the window, her voice barely audible. "Thirty-five years of raising her, and I can't even tell when she needs help most."

They pulled into the parking garage of Audrey's studio building. As they hurried toward the elevator, Robert spotted a familiar figure rushing across the lobby—Donald, his face ashen and panicked.

"Donald!" Robert called out.

Donald spun around, his eyes red-rimmed. "Mr. and Mrs. Hartwell? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Audrey," Margaret said breathlessly. "We got some disturbing news about her inheritance papers, and we can't reach her."

Donald's expression crumbled. "Marcus called me an hour ago about the same thing. He said there might be something seriously wrong. I've been trying to reach her all morning."

"She's not answering our calls either," Robert said, pressing the elevator button repeatedly. "Her office staff hasn't seen her today, but her computer's still on."

The three of them rode up in tense silence. When the elevator doors opened on the fifteenth floor, they could see police tape across the hallway leading to Audrey's office.

Margaret grabbed Robert's arm. "Why... why are the police here?"

A uniformed officer approached them. "I'm sorry, but this area is restricted. Are you family?"

"We're her parents," Robert managed. "This is her ex-husband. What's happened?"

The officer's expression softened with sympathy. "I'm very sorry to inform you... Ms. Audrey Hartwell was found deceased in her office early this morning. The cleaning crew discovered her when they arrived for work."

The words hit them like a physical blow. Margaret's knees buckled, and both Robert and Donald reached out to steady her.

"No..." Margaret whispered, then louder, "No, no, no! Not our Audrey!"

Donald stood frozen, his face drained of all color. "How... when?"

"The preliminary assessment suggests sometime late last night. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Robert felt the world spinning around him. All those warning signs—the inheritance papers, the goodbyes, the cleaned-out office—they had all been too late to recognize.

Their daughter had been saying farewell, and none of them had understood until now.

On this bright Tuesday morning, their worst fears had become reality.

Their daughter would never come home again.