“What?”
“I heard my baby crying.”
Her voice broke.
“Mom, I heard him.”
She gripped my hand.
“I asked Julian where he was.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I was hallucinating.”
I felt rage rising inside me.
“But you weren’t.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I wasn’t.”
She looked at the ceiling.
“I heard him crying three times.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Then someone moved him.”
Chloe nodded.
“I think so.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why?”
She hesitated.
“Because of the paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“The birth certificate.”
I frowned.
“What about it?”
Chloe looked directly at me.
“Julian wasn’t listed as the father.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He wasn’t.”
“Why?”
She took a shaky breath.
“Because the name on the original paperwork was someone else.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Who?”
Chloe closed her eyes.
“Ethan.”
I didn’t recognize the name.
“Who is Ethan?”
She looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
Regret.
“Someone I knew before Julian.”
My mind raced.
“Was he the baby’s father?”
She nodded.
I sat down.
“Does Julian know?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s why…”
“He found out three months ago.”
My heart sank.
“What happened?”
“He became obsessed.”
“How?”
“He said the baby wasn’t his.”
She began crying.
“He said I had betrayed him.”
I took her hand.
“Did he hurt you?”
She didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
I felt sick.
“How long?”
“Months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he said he’d take the baby.”
My eyes burned.
“He threatened you?”
“He said if I left him, he’d make sure no one ever believed me.”
I squeezed her hand.
“You should have called me.”
“I was ashamed.”
“You never have to be ashamed of being hurt.”
She looked at me.
“I tried.”
“What do you mean?”
“I called you three weeks ago.”
I froze.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“I never got a call.”
“I left a voicemail.”
“I didn’t receive anything.”
Chloe stared at me.
Then her face changed.
“Mom…”
“What?”
“I think he deleted it.”
My heart stopped.
Julian had access to her phone.
Maybe mine too.
Suddenly every missed call, every strange silence, every time Chloe had seemed distant began forming a pattern.
I pulled out my phone.
There were no messages from Chloe.
No voicemail.
Nothing.
But then I remembered something.
A few days before the delivery, Chloe had given me a small envelope.
She’d laughed and said it was “just something boring.”
I had tossed it into the drawer beside my kitchen table without opening it.
I suddenly wondered why.
I turned to Elena.
“I need to leave.”
Chloe grabbed my wrist.
“Mom.”
“I’ll come back.”
“Don’t go home.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“Because Julian knows where you live.”
The room went silent.
I looked at her.
“What should I do?”
Chloe whispered:
“Go somewhere he doesn’t know about.”
I thought for a moment.
Then I remembered my late husband’s old cabin outside Mount Hood.
Julian had never been there.
Nobody knew I still had the key.
Almost nobody.
I looked at Elena.
“Can you keep her alive until morning?”
“I’ll try.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You don’t try. You keep her alive.”
Elena nodded.
“I will.”
I leaned down and kissed Chloe’s forehead.
Then I whispered:
“I’ll find your son.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“Mom…”
“Yes?”
“Basement.”
I looked at her.
“The key.”
She swallowed.
“Don’t open the door alone.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever is down there…”
She looked terrified.
“…is why Julian killed the truth.”
I left the hospital through the service corridor.
I didn’t drive home.
Instead, I parked two blocks away and called a taxi.
I needed to know whether someone was following me.
Twenty minutes later, I arrived at my house from the opposite direction.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
The porch light was on.
My front door was closed.
But when I stepped inside, I immediately knew someone had been there.
The kitchen drawer was open.
The one where I’d kept Chloe’s envelope.
It was empty.
I searched the house.
Nothing else seemed disturbed.
Then I noticed something on the floor beneath the dining table.
A tiny piece of white paper.
I picked it up.
Only three words were written on it.
HE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
I stared at the handwriting.
It was Chloe’s.
I ran upstairs.
My hands shook as I opened every drawer.
Then I remembered something else.
The old family Bible.
My husband had always kept it on the highest shelf in our bedroom.
I pulled it down.
Inside the pages, behind a photograph of Chloe at sixteen, I found another envelope.
This one had my name written across it.
MOM — OPEN ONLY IF I AM IN DANGER.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a handwritten note.
I unfolded it.
The first sentence made my blood run cold.
Mom, if you’re reading this, Julian has probably told you that I’m dead.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
The next line was even worse.
The baby is alive. His name is Daniel. And Julian isn’t the only person involved.
I stared at the page.
Then I turned it over.
On the back was an address.
A warehouse.
And beneath it, Chloe had written:
Go there before midnight.
I looked at the clock.
11:42 PM.
I had eighteen minutes.
I grabbed my coat.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
I listened.
Then I heard a baby’s cry.
My entire body went numb.
A man’s voice whispered:
“Margaret, if you want your grandson alive…”
A pause.
“…come alone.”
The call ended.
I stood frozen in my bedroom.
Then my phone received a text.
One photograph.
I opened it.
It was a picture of a newborn baby wrapped in a blue blanket.
His tiny fist was pressed against his cheek.
And beneath the photograph were six words:
You have one hour to choose.
I stared at the baby.
I didn’t know whether it was Daniel.
I didn’t know who had sent the picture.
But I knew one thing.
I was no longer searching for the truth.
The truth was coming for me.
And somewhere in the darkness outside my house, someone was already waiting to see what I would do.
