CHAPTER 3: THE GIRL THEY CAME FOR
The first thing I felt was cold.
The second was pain.
A brutal throbbing sensation pulsed behind my right ear.
I opened my eyes.
Darkness.
For a few seconds, I couldn't remember where I was.
Then I heard crying.
“Daddy…”
Emily.
I tried to sit up.
My head spun.
I reached forward blindly.
“Emily?”
“Daddy!”
Her voice came from somewhere close.
I crawled toward it.
My hand found a small arm.
I pulled her against me.
She was shaking.
“I'm here.”
She buried her face in my chest.
“I thought they took you.”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
I looked around.
Emergency lights had flickered on.
The chapel was chaos.
People were shouting.
Someone had knocked over several chairs.
The priest was helping an elderly woman.
My mother was calling for Mark.
And Rebecca…
Rebecca was gone.
So were the two men.
Victor Hale was nowhere to be seen.
I pushed myself upright.
“Where's Rebecca?”
No one answered.
I looked at Emily.
She was still holding my jacket.
“Did you see what happened?”
She nodded.
“Rebecca ran outside.”
“Who hit me?”
“I don't know.”
I touched the back of my head.
My fingers came away with blood.
Mark rushed toward me.
“Are you okay?”
“I'll live.”
He looked at Emily.
“Is she hurt?”
I checked her quickly.
No blood.
No obvious injuries.
But she was terrified.
“What happened after the lights went out?”
Mark shook his head.
“Everything happened at once.”
“Where did they go?”
“Back door.”
I stood.
“I'm going after them.”
Mark grabbed my shoulder.
“Not alone.”
We ran toward the rear exit.
The door was still swinging.
Outside, rain had started falling.
The parking lot was almost empty.
Almost.
At the far end, a black SUV was speeding away.
I couldn't see the license plate.
But I could see someone in the back seat.
A woman.
White wedding dress.
Rebecca.
I ran into the parking lot.
“Rebecca!”
The SUV disappeared around the corner.
I stopped.
My lungs burned.
My wedding ring wasn't even on my finger yet.
But I already knew my marriage was over.
What I didn't know was whether my daughter would survive the night.
We returned to the chapel.
The police arrived twenty minutes later.
I gave them everything.
The note.
The forged document.
Victor Hale's name.
The black SUV.
The men.
The accusations Rebecca had made.
But when the officer examined the document, his expression changed.
“Mr. Carter…”
“What?”
“This isn't forged.”
I stared at him.
“You just said that?”
He pointed toward the signature.
“This signature is identical to the one on your driver's license.”
“So?”
“So we ran the document number.”
“And?”
He hesitated.
“It was filed six months ago.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“County family court.”
I looked at Mark.
He looked just as confused.
“I never went to family court.”
The officer frowned.
“Then someone impersonated you.”
“That means it's forged.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean?”
He turned the paper over.
There was a fingerprint seal.
A notary stamp.
And a witness signature.
All apparently legitimate.
My mind raced.
Someone had created an entire legal identity around me.
Someone had planned this months ago.
But why?
The officer asked, “Do you recognize this witness?”
I looked down.
The name was unfamiliar.
Then I noticed something.
The signature beneath it.
My heart stopped.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
I pointed.
“That handwriting.”
Mark leaned closer.
“Who is it?”
I whispered:
“Rebecca's father.”
The officer stared at me.
“Her father is dead.”
“I know.”
The room went silent.
Rebecca had told me her father died twelve years ago.
A heart attack.
She had cried when she talked about him.
She had kept his old photograph in a box.
But now his signature was on a legal document filed six months ago.
I felt something inside me shift.
The story Rebecca had told me about her family suddenly looked like a house built on rotten wood.
The officer asked, “Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
No response.
Only breathing.
Then a woman's voice.
Rebecca.
“Are you with Emily?”
My blood froze.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Her voice was trembling.
“Listen carefully.”
“Where are you?”
“You can't find me.”
“Tell me where you are.”
“No.”
“Rebecca, you tried to have my daughter taken.”
“I was trying to protect her!”
“You lied to me.”
“I had to.”
“You said you loved her.”
“I do.”
“Then why were you sending her away?”
Silence.
Then she whispered:
“Because they already know where she lives.”
I looked toward Emily.
“Who?”
“They're not going to stop.”
“Who are they?”
Rebecca's voice broke.
“The people who killed your wife.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“You told me my wife died in an accident.”
“I lied.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of them?”
“No.”
She paused.
“I was afraid of what would happen if you discovered the truth.”
“What truth?”
Rebecca took a shaky breath.
“Your wife wasn't Emily's biological mother.”
I couldn't speak.
The chapel seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“Your wife raised her.”
“No.”
“I know what you were told.”
“Rebecca…”
“Emily's real mother is still alive.”
I looked at my daughter.
She was sitting beside my mother, clutching a stuffed rabbit.
My entire world seemed to fracture.
“Who is her real mother?”
Rebecca didn't answer.
“Tell me.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because she's standing closer to you than you think.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Mark stepped closer.
“What did she say?”
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
Then Emily walked toward me.
“Daddy?”
I looked down.
She was holding something.
A tiny silver locket.
“Where did you get that?”
She opened her hand.
“Rebecca gave it to me.”
I took it.
There was a photograph inside.
A woman.
Young.
Dark hair.
Holding a baby.
I had never seen her before.
But Emily had.
She stared at the photograph.
“That's my mommy.”
My heart stopped.
“Emily…”
“She showed me this before.”
“Who is the woman?”
Emily pointed.
“That's Mommy.”
I looked at my mother.
She had gone completely pale.
“Mom?”
She couldn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Do you know her?”
My mother looked at the photograph.
Tears filled her eyes.
Then she whispered:
“Yes.”
My entire body went cold.
“Who is she?”
My mother looked at Emily.
Then at me.
And said:
“She was your wife's sister.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She wasn't supposed to survive.”
I felt the room go silent again.
“What do you mean?”
My mother lowered her voice.
“Six years ago, before the accident…”
She looked toward the chapel doors.
“…your wife called me.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me if anything happened to her, I had to protect Emily.”
“From who?”
My mother began crying.
“From Rebecca.”
I stepped backward.
The woman I had been about to marry.
The woman who had promised to protect my daughter.
The woman who had apparently known the truth all along.
I looked at the silver locket again.
There was something engraved on the back.
Three words.
I read them aloud.
“Blood remembers blood.”
Mark frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed again.
A text message.
No number.
Just an image.
I opened it.
My hands began shaking.
It was a photograph of Emily.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
She was sitting beside my mother inside the chapel.
The angle was from outside the building.
Someone had been watching us.
Under the photograph were seven words:
WE KNOW WHERE YOUR DAUGHTER IS.
Then another message appeared.
BRING THE LOCKET TO THE OLD HOUSE.
A third message followed.
COME ALONE.
I looked toward the dark chapel windows.
Someone was still out there.
Watching.
Waiting.
And then Emily whispered:
“Daddy…”
I turned.
She was staring at the locket.
Her face had gone white.
“I remember that house.”
I froze.
“What house?”
She pointed toward the photograph.
“The place Rebecca took me.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“When?”
Emily swallowed.
“Last month.”
I stared at her.
Rebecca had never told me she'd taken Emily anywhere alone.
“Where did she take you?”
Emily looked at the chapel doors.
Then she whispered:
“Where Mommy died.”
I couldn't breathe.
Because suddenly, I understood something terrifying.
Rebecca hadn't been planning to send Emily away after the wedding.
She had been preparing Emily for something.
May you like
And whatever that something was...
It had started long before I ever put on my wedding suit.
