Chapter 9: The Woman Who Was Never Supposed to Return
I should have ignored the message.
Every instinct told me it was a trap.
But Emma’s name had always been the one thing that could break through my defenses.
Six years had passed.
Six years of missing her voice.
Six years of watching Lily grow without her mother.
Six years of wondering if I could have done something differently.
If I had noticed something.
If I had protected her.
Now someone was claiming they knew the truth.
I couldn’t walk away.
“I’m going,” I said.
Mason immediately stood.
“No.””
I looked at him.
“Mason—”
“You said people are trying to hurt us.””
“I know.””
“Then why would you go alone?””
I wanted to argue.
But I couldn’t.
Because he was right.
“You’re still a kid.””
He shook his head.
“Maybe. But I’m the kid who saved Lily when the adults failed.””
That sentence hurt because it was true.
Robert looked at me.
“He’s right. You shouldn’t go alone.””
I nodded.
“Then we do this carefully.””
The location was an abandoned coffee shop near the old office district.
A place that had closed years ago.
A place nobody would randomly choose.
When we arrived, I went inside alone while Robert waited nearby.
Mason stayed with Lily at a safe location.
The coffee shop smelled like dust and old wood.
Every step echoed.
Then I saw her.
A woman sitting in the corner.
I stopped breathing.
Because I knew her.
Not personally.
But from pictures.
From documents.
From Emma’s old stories.
“Who are you?””
The woman stood slowly.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“My name is Sarah Mitchell.””
The name meant nothing.
Until she said the next words.
“I worked with Emma.””
I froze.
“Emma never mentioned you.””
“She couldn’t.””
“Why?””
Sarah looked around nervously.
“Because she thought someone was listening.””
My skin prickled.
“What happened to her?””
Sarah reached into her bag.
She pulled out a folder.
“Emma discovered Daniel wasn’t just stealing money.””
She opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Documents.
Names.
And one photo that made my heart stop.
It was Emma.
Standing beside someone.
Someone I recognized.
Myself.
But the date was impossible.
The picture was taken three days after Emma supposedly died.
I stared at it.
“That’s not possible.””
Sarah whispered:
“Michael, Emma didn’t die that night.””
The room spun.
“What?””
“She disappeared.””
I couldn’t speak.
“No.””
Sarah pushed the folder toward me.
“She wanted to come back. She wanted to tell you everything.””
My hands shook as I looked through the papers.
Then I saw the final document.
A hospital record.
A patient name.
Emma Carter.
Admission date.
Six years ago.
I looked at Sarah.
“Where is she?””
Sarah’s eyes filled with sadness.
“She’s alive.””
The words destroyed everything I believed.
“Where?””
Before she could answer, the lights went out.
The entire coffee shop became dark.
A sound came from behind us.
A door opening.
Sarah whispered:
“Oh no.””
I turned.
A shadow stood in the doorway.
And then a familiar voice spoke.
“Michael.””
My blood froze.
Because I knew that voice.
It belonged to the person who had spent years pretending to mourn Emma.
The person who knew the truth.
May you like
The person who had been one step ahead the entire time.
Nathan.
