Chapter 3

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I'd woken up at 8 am and I was currently digging through my mail. One brown file in particular peaked my interest because it was addressed to the old owner. It's nearly been two weeks. Surely they know he's gone right?

I took the folder and my personal mail inside and set them on the table. I'd be meeting a few friends today then I'd be off to work.

11:15...Time to go. My uber would arrive in 5 minutes. I hurriedly grabbed my bag and jacket and exited the house.

Maybe I should call Maxwell and tell him about the mail I received. I dialed his number. The call went through and I was about to speak until the answering machine service spoke, "the number you have dialed, does not exist. Please try again later."

What? Maybe I made a mistake. I tried again and still received the answering machine. Asshole gave me a fake number. I slumped back in the car seat. Now what? I wasn't his secretary. I hated getting messages meant for other people.

I figured I could call the real estate agency. Surely they'd have Maxwell's number and other details. I was 20 minutes away from my destination so I still had time. After 2 rings the phone answered, "Good day, how can I help you?"

I greeted the woman back and proceeded to ask her about Maxwell. He didn't exist in their database. That freaked me out. How could they have none of his details? He sold me the house through them!

"Are you sure? How is that even possible?!" I persisted. I was beginning to get agitated.

"I'm sorry ma'am but we have no records of any Maxwell Munich." She said softly.

I released a frustrated sigh, "Alright, thank you."

What. The. Fuck.

I must've purchased that house from a ghost because Maxwell apparently doesn't exist...at least not to the agency. Where the hell had he gone? He clearly exists if I'm getting his mail.

Now that I think about it, Maxwell was too desperate to leave his beautiful house. The first time I'd met him, he was already talking about moving dates and contract drafting... I hadn't even seen the house yet.

My mind drifted back to the file that I'd left on my counter. What's in there?
I didn't have much time to ponder as the uber came to a stop in front of the shopping centre. Across the street I could see my friends huddled up and chatting. I thanked the driver and exited, calmly approaching my peers despite the growing worry in the pit of my stomach.

We agreed to go window shopping for a bit before heading to lunch. We were at a bit of a crunch for time because along the way I was met with traffic and I couldn't be late for my next stop...work.

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