A last note

With locked arms, Mr. Sinclair dragged me to his wife's room. It was a relief because she wasn't there as far as I knew.
"Open up, honey," said Mr. Sinclair, knocking at her door. "Look who is here to see you." He waited less than a minute for a response before allowing himself into her room. I wouldn't call him wrong for doing that because they were married.
Inside, as expected, no one was there. Mrs. Sinclair was occupied with telling Doctor Williams something no man wanted to hear from her married lover. Without a doubt, he would vanish from her life when he heard about it. From experience, I could tell that such jerks were only around for money and sex. John was my unforgettable mistake, and I could see similarities between him and Mary's big mistake.
"Where is she?" Mr. Sinclair looked around for her wife. "Perhaps she is in the shower. I'll check." He advanced towards the bathroom with hope. At that moment, I felt pity for him. His wife didn't care about his return, yet he seemed excited to surprise her.
As I waited for him to return disappointed, I sat on a sofa chair. Something crumbled underneath my butt. I got up to find a blank piece of paper. What was it doing there? Had she planned to write it down for her lover? I received an answer upon flipping the paper. It was not blank from both sides. My eyes almost popped out of its sockets. An alarming message was written upon it:
Hello to whoever is reading this. I hope it's you, Amelia.
Let me share something very important with the person who has found it if it's not her. I am pregnant with a wonderful man's child who is not my husband. Tell my family about this by midnight because I'm about to inform that man. You must be wondering why I am not afraid. It's because there are only two options for me. I am following my heart, and it's telling me to elope with him if he accepts the child and my love, and if he doesn't_ I have decided to jump off the balcony or consume poison.
Today ends with either true love or my blood.
Mr. Sinclair had completely lost her mind! I had only asked her to make a sane decision. Why did she have to act like a teenage girl from a pathetic romance movie? Nathan would be devastated to hear that his mother had abandoned her or committed suicide for a moron.
I crumbled the paper between my fists before Mr. Sinclair could see it. I also was left with two options. Either I could slip out of the room unseen to alert Frank and the others about Mrs. Sinclair's madness, or I could wait for him to return and tell him the truth. Since this was an actual life-or-death situation, I had to decide quickly.
"Mr. Sinclair," I heard. Frank made a dramatic entrance into the room. He looked pale with fear and horror. I suspected it to have to do something with Mrs. Sinclair.
"What is it?" My employer abruptly replied.
"Sir," Frank began. The poor man was too overwhelmed to speak properly. "He, he, your son has heard about your arrival and is creating a ruckus over being unable to find you. He wishes to see you immediately."
Why? I almost asked him that. Had Nathan lost his patience for not mentioning the vacation girl to him? At the moment, that was the least of my worries because his mother had caused a much more serious issue.
"Escort me to him right now," said the concerned father.
"Of course, sir. He is in his room," Frank answered, glancing at me worriedly. He was trying to tell me something with his eyes. Neither was I a mind reader nor good at reading whole situations from facial expressions or body language.
Thankfully, Mr. Sinclair left without commanding Frank to follow him.
"What is Frank?" I hurried towards him. "Is Mrs. Sinclair dead?"
Frank shook his head. "What? No. Why would she be dead? I came here because I was afraid you might say something to him about his wife's affair without my permission."
"So, Nathan was throwing a temper tantrum for his dad?" I asked.
"Of course. Your fiancé throws childish tantrums over everything. He has very little patience for anything. Well, did you expect him to change overnight because he put a ring on your finger out of infatuation?" Frank answered.
Infatuated? I wouldn't call his interest in me that. "There is no time to argue with each other," I said, opening the crumbled paper for him. I watched his emotions change while reading it.
"Oh my God!" Frank exclaimed. "Is Mrs. Sinclair going through a second puberty? I can't wrap my head around a grown mother making such stupid ass decisions for an average-looking doctor."
I punched him in the stomach, and he groaned. "There is no time to ridicule her choice of a man. She might lose her life if we didn't hurry to find her. By now, that jerk could have already rejected her. She could be hanging from a balcony or staring at a bottle of rat poison, for all we know."
"You really think he would reject her? What if they had eloped? He could kidnap her and call her family for a ransom. That's a much better way to deal with a wealthy woman. I would do this if I were in his shoes," Frank opined.
Anything was possible at that point. I had so many expectations from that job. But there I was, keeping secrets, trying to stop my employer from committing suicide, and slowly getting trapped in a web of chaos and lies.
The door creaked open. Someone unexpected had entered the room. It was Doctor Williams, and he looked guilty as hell and had a strange red stain on his shirt. Had he murdered her?