Mason, I know you must be thinking why I'm not in the house, especially in my favorite room—the sun room. Cogitating why and what the letter is all about. Don't look for me, or try to call me. It will be all futile. I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I know it's sounds foolish and stupid to just write a letter before running away but i promise you, it's for the betterment for the both of us. You may not know about the truth now which I pray you don't find out, staying together will bring much more trouble than there already has. Don't think about me. Find another love, Charlotte your once fiancée will fit into the role of your wife much more better than I have ever been and will ever be. Try not to about me and focus, focus on the company. Dad will be much more happy if you expand it, the way you've always wanted. Think of everything we had as a dream. A sweet dream. I will move on and I hope you do that also.

Your sweet dream,

Mitchelle.

Mason stared at the letter, his eyes boring holes into it. He didn't know if he should scream, or fold it back and place it on the vanity table or maybe run out and search for her. Maybe it was all a dream 'cause, he felt like his brain met a timeout. A sweet dream. Giving one last look at the neatly written and folded letter, his face not giving out any emotion. Stoic. He folded it back and placed it back into the drawer. He stood up, pulling his suit jacket off his body.

Maybe this was a dream after all.