The Missing Wife

Six months ago, my wife vanished without a trace.

Six months later, I watched her get bought by another man, like some kind of toy.

It all started with that trip she took.

My wife’s name was Sarah. Twenty-nine years old, with looks and a figure that could give some B-list actresses a run for their money. The kind of drop-dead gorgeous woman who turns every head on the street, twice.

That day, Sarah said a girlfriend had invited her on a trip, and she'd be back in a couple of days.

I didn't ask where she was going, just told her to be safe.