It has been an hour since I texted Rawls and I haven’t heard back from him. I've been pacing back and forth in the bedroom, trying to calm down. The ring on my finger feels like a weight, a reminder of the secrets we've been keeping. The sudden knock on the door sends my heart racing. "Claire, honey, are you okay?" It's my mom's voice, filled with concern. I quickly shove the ring into the drawer, my heart hammering in my chest. "Yeah, Mom, I'm fine," I call out, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Just unpacking.” Mom opens the door, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "You've been in here for ages," she says, her eyes scanning the room. "Is everything okay?" "Yeah," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. Mom steps into the room, her eyes searching my face. "You seem a bit... flustered," she says, her smile fading into a concerned frown. "Is everything okay?" "I'm just tired," I lie, hoping she'll buy it. "It was a long weekend." Mom nods, her gaze lingering on
Having to block Claire hurt me to the core. I can only imagine what she is going through. She doesn’t understand right now, but I am doing this to protect her, protect us. I am in my study, thinking about my weekend with Claire. The faint scent of her perfume still lingers on my jacket, and I can't help but think of the passionate nights we shared. It feels like a lifetime ago. My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. It's Evie, her eyes red from crying. She looks at me with a mix of anger and hurt. "We need to talk," she says, her voice cold. I swallow hard, knowing that this conversation could change everything. "Okay," I reply, gesturing for her to sit down. She remains standing, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "I know you're seeing someone," she says, her voice filled with accusation. "Who is it?" “Evie, we are not discussing this again. I am still your father and I do not need to give you any explanations. What needs to happen now is to get some hel
I haven’t heard from Rawls in almost two weeks. I feel like I am a shell of the person I was. I don’t have an appetite and I am exhausted. I am doing my best to focus at work, but I feel like I am not doing it effectively right now. I have done my best to just keep to myself at work. Thelma was not going to have any of that. She put a note on my desk saying we were going to lunch, she had cleared my schedule. The very thought of food made me want to throw up. Thelma looked at me with a motherly frown. "You can't keep going like this, Claire," she said firmly. "You need to take care of yourself." I nodded, unable to argue with her. The truth was, I felt like I was falling apart. The secret of my weekend with Rawls was eating away at me, and the fear of losing him was like a constant knot in my stomach. I knew I couldn't keep pretending everything was fine much longer. As we sit in the busy restaurant, Thelma looks at me with a knowing expression. "Is there something you want
I sit there for what feels like hours, staring at the phone, willing it to ring. But it stays silent, a piece of technology that holds the key to my future. Finally, unable to take the suspense anymore. I am just going to go to Rawls’ house and talk to him. He is not going to avoid me today. When I arrive, the house looks dark. Maybe he isn’t home from work yet. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the confrontation to come. I knock on the door, my heart hammering in my chest. Evie opens the door, her eyes widening in surprise and anger when she sees me. "What are you doing here?" she spits out, her voice filled with accusation. I stand there, my heart racing. "I need to talk to your dad," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's important." Evie's eyes narrow, her arms crossed over her chest. "What could possibly be important enough for you to come here?" she asks, her voice dripping with skepticism. I take a deep breath, my mind racing for an excuse that won't
Hearing Claire’s voice on her message opened up the wound in my heart even bigger. I haven’t talked to her in weeks and I miss her so much. I rush home as soon as work is done, maybe Robert and Mary are at work and I can talk to Claire. When I pull up to the house there is an ambulance in the driveway. Oh my God, Evie has tried to hurt herself. I ran up to the house and they were working on her. As I got closer, it wasn’t Evie, it was Claire. What had happened? Had she been attacked? I wasn’t here to protect her. And where is Evie, had she been hurt too? "What happened?" I demand, panting and out of breath. A medic looks up at me, his face a mask of professional calm. "She fell," he says, his eyes flicking to my face and then back to his work. "Looks like she hit her head pretty hard." My heart sinks as I see the blood trickling from Claire's forehead. "What about the baby?" I blurt out, the words tumbling from my mouth before I can stop them. The medic's expression flickers,
The nurses come in to take Claire down to surgery. Mary and Robert were down the hall when they came in. Thankfully, so. No awkward questions to be answered. The wait feels like an eternity. I really didn't know what to say to Robert and Mary. I know they have so many questions. Questions that I don't want to answer or ready to answer. The minutes stretch into hours, each one heavier than the last. Finally, the doctor returns, his expression hopeful. He pulls the curtain around the bed, giving us a semblance of privacy. "The procedure went well," he says, his voice low and soothing. "We were able to remove everything safely. She'll be moved to a recovery room shortly." Mary's eyes search mine, desperate for answers I don't have. "What did they have to remove?" she asks, her voice trembling. I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my secret threatening to crush me. "They had to remove...uh...some internal bleeding caused by the fall," I improvise, hoping it sounds convi
I am thankful Rawls did not tell Mom and Dad about the baby. I feel completely empty; no baby and no Rawls. I feel like my heart has been shattered into a million tiny pieces. After the nurse ushers Rawls out, I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with so many questions. How could Evie have done this to me? And why? My hand absently touches the bandage on my forehead, feeling the dull throb that's a constant reminder of the fall. But it's the pain in my heart that's unbearable. The nurse returns with a tray of food, but the sight of it turns my stomach. "Miss Edwards," she says gently, "you need to eat something. You need to heal from what happened today." I nod, my eyes still glued to the ceiling. She sets the tray down on the rolling table beside the bed, and the smell of food fills the room. I don't know if I can force anything down, but I know I have to try. For myself. For whatever is left of my shattered life. As I push the tray away, unab
I had every intention of going home, but I ended up in the park where Claire and I had shared out first kiss. I hate myself for being the cause of the hurt and anger on her face. A man is supposed to protect the woman he loves, and I failed. The park is quiet, the swings swaying gently in the breeze. It's peaceful compared to the hell that has become my life. I sit down on the bench where we sat that night, when I first tasted Claire's lips. It's cold and hard, but it feels like the only thing that's real right now. The moon casts a soft light over the playground, lighting up the spot where we had stood, her eyes filled with hope and love. I remember the sound of her laugh filled, the sound of her voice, the feel of her body leaning into mine. Now, all that remains is the heavy weight of regret in my chest. I wonder if Claire will ever find a way to forgive me. We need to talk. I need to explain to her why I did everything that I did. I also need her to know I would have wanted
He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. "Ah, but you see," he says, his voice a low purr, "you don't have a choice." My mind races as I look around the room, desperately seeking a weapon, an escape route, anything to save us. The house seems to shrink around me, the walls closing in as my chest tightens with fear. Mom's eyes are wide with terror, and she shakes her head vigorously, trying to warn me. I understand the message—don't come closer. But I can't just leave her here with him. My survival instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast. Jonathan takes a step toward me, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Don't be stupid, Claire," he says, his voice like a snake's hiss. "You know what happens when you defy me.” My gaze falls to his hand, and my stomach drops when I see the gun glinting in the moonlight. It's pointed at Mom, her eyes pleading with me to be careful. I can't let him take us—I won't let him hurt my baby. . "We're leaving." The gun in Jonathan's hand is unwa
As he leaves, I fight the urge to follow, to beg him to take me with him. But I know I can't. I'm too much of a liability in my current state. The fear for him, for Evie, for the baby, and for myself is a storm of noise in my head. I need to stay strong, to keep the hope alive. I sit down in the nursery, the silence deafening. The only sound is the faint ticking of the crib mobile above, a reminder of the life we're fighting for. I try to focus on the positive—Fiona’s call, the possibility of finding Evie. But the fear is a living creature, feeding on my doubt. Rawls's footsteps retreat down the hallway, and I listen until the front door clicks shut. My heart feels like it's in a vice, and I take deep breaths to keep the panic at bay. The house is too quiet, save for the occasional muffled murmur of dad's team outside. The thought of Fiona plays in my mind. She's out there, alive, and willing to help. But what if it's a trap? What if Jonathan has somehow turned her against us? I s
As if an answer to my silent plea, the phone on the nightstand starts to ring. The screen flashes with an unknown number, and for a brief, hopeful moment, I wonder if it's a sign. I pick it up, my heart pounding in my chest, and bring it to my ear. "Hello?" The voice on the other end is faint, but it sends a shockwave through my body. "Rawls," the voice says, and my heart skips a beat. It's Fiona. She really is alive. "Fiona?" Rawls says, his voice tight with disbelief. "Is that really you?" There's a pause, and then her voice, clear as a bell, fills the room. "It's me, Rawls," she says, the sound of her voice like a ghost from the past, haunting and yet oddly comforting. "I need to see you. It's about Evie." My hand tightens around the phone. "What do you know?" Fiona's voice is a mix of pain and urgency. "I know where he's keeping her," she says, the words coming out in a rush. "I can help you get her back." "How?" he asks, his voice gruff. "What do you want in exchang
The further along Claire is in her pregnancy the more e concerned I become. No matter how much digging Robert and I have been doing, we cannot find out where Jonathan is holding Evie. We decided to not get the police involved. It may not be the best decision but some of the things were are having to do or will have to do may not be on the right side of the law. The further along Claire is in her pregnancy the more concerned I become. No matter how much digging Robert and I have been doing, we cannot find out where Jonathan is holding Evie. We decided to not get the police involved. It may not be the best decision but some of the things were are having to do or will have to do may not be on the right side of the law. "I can't sit here and do nothing," I say, pacing the room. "We need to find her." Rawls's eyes are filled with understanding, but his voice is firm. "We will, but we have to be smart about it," he says, his hand landing gently on my shoulder, trying to still my frantic
I should have gotten Jonathan psychiatric help a long time ago. Even as a child he had issues getting along with other children. The years I was with Rawls and Evie, Jonathan had been raised with his father’s (Marco) family, the Castellanos. Marco had always talked about the strange incidents that occurred when they he was young, but he had always downplayed the seriousness of Jonathan’s behavior. Now, it all made sense. My child had turned into a monster, and we were all just pawns in his twisted game of power and control. I had to see Evie. I had to explain, to apologize for the years of pain I had caused. But would Evie even believe me? Would she recognize me as her mother or the woman who had abandoned her all those years ago? Fear and guilt had been my constant companions since I had gone into hiding, but now, with Evie's safety hanging in the balance, I was going to have to face my past. I had to see her, had to try to make this right. I approached the house where I kne
I know Rawls and Dad are keeping things from me. I can see it in their eyes every time they think I'm not looking. They hover over me like overprotective hawks, their whispers and furtive glances speaking volumes. But I'm not a child anymore. I know something's wrong, something much more than just Evie's disappearance. I sit in my room, my thoughts racing, trying to piece together the puzzle that is my life. The walls are closing in, the silence suffocating. I need to know the truth. I need to know what's happening to Evie and why my fiancé and my father are acting so strangely. Summoning my courage, I tiptoe down the hallway. The house feels eerie, as if it's holding its breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop. I hover outside the door to Rawls’ office, listening to the muffled whispers of Rawls and my dad. "We need to tell her," my dad says, his voice strained. "She has a right to know." Rawls's voice is low and firm. "Not yet. She's not ready for this." I bite my lip, my he
Claire said that Thelma is good at digging up information. Hopefully she has something that can help us find Evie and rid our lives of this psychopath. Robert and I were anxious to see what Thelma had found, but I know it will help Claire if they can see each other. "Thelma," Robert said, his voice tight with urgency. "What do you have for us?" Thelma took a deep breath, her eyes flicking to me before returning to Robert. "I've been looking into Jonathan Cramer/John Castellanos's history," she began, her voice steady despite the gravity of what she was about to say. "And it turns out he has connections to Evie's mother, Fiona." "Robert and I leaned in, our eyes locked on Thelma's face as she opened the folder. She pulled out a series of photographs, each one more disturbing than the last. "These are of Jonathan with his mother," she said. "Does this woman look familiar?” Robert took the photos, his eyes scanning over them before handing them to me. The woman in the images
Robert and I sat in my office, poring over the case files and notes we had gathered on Jonathan Cramer. The silence in the house was suffocating, compared to the chaos that had erupted earlier. The detectives were on thin ice with me. I could not believe they questioned Claire about the paternity of the baby. "How did he do it?" Robert muttered, his eyes scanning the page in front of him. "He had to have had help," I said, slamming a fist on the table. "There's no way he could have gotten through that security unnoticed." Robert nodded, his jaw set. "I've called in a favor with an old contact at the precinct," he said, his eyes never leaving the paperwork scattered in front of him. "We're getting the full report on the facility's staff—everyone who had access to Evie's location and schedule." We worked tirelessly into the night, piecing together a timeline of events, looking for any inconsistencies or signs of tampering. The more we dug, the more it became clear that this was
I can’t believe how easy it was to get at Evie. The security at the mental facility was no better than the security at a nursery school. I had disguised myself well enough that Evie did not recognize me. She thinks her dad sent me to pick her up for her safety. She will be anything but safe with me. I may have a little fun with her before my plan is put into place. But first things first, I need to get her to my place. She’s so naive and trusting, it’s almost too easy. I have a van waiting outside, no plates, no paperwork, no way to trace it back to me. The perfect getaway vehicle. As we walk out of the facility, my heart races. The plan is coming together perfectly. The security camera's blind spot is right where I need it to be. I glance around, making sure no one is watching. "It's okay, Evie," I say, my voice low and reassuring. "We're going to get you somewhere safe." Her eyes are wide with fear, but she nods, trusting me implicitly. She's just as innocent now as she was