CHAPTER 6: THE FIRST WIFE'S SECRET
Arthur stared at the photograph until his fingers began to shake.
Emily was alive.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't tied up.
But the fear in her eyes said everything.
Someone had instructed her to sit still.
To wait.
To obey.
Whoever had taken the picture wanted Arthur to know one thing:
Emily could still be saved.
But only if he uncovered the truth.
Arthur slowly lowered the phone.
The room had gone deathly silent.
Marcus stepped forward.
"Sir?"
Arthur turned the screen toward him.
Marcus's face hardened.
"The newspaper..."
Arthur nodded.
"It's today's edition."
"This photo wasn't taken hours ago."
"It was taken within the last thirty minutes."
Marcus zoomed in.
Every detail mattered.
The wallpaper.
The chair.
The floorboards.
A dusty radiator.
Nothing looked familiar.
Until he noticed the window.
Only a sliver of it appeared in the corner of the image.
Rain streaked across the glass.
But there was something else.
A church steeple.
Barely visible.
Marcus enlarged the image.
"It's blurry..."
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"I know that church."
Marcus looked up.
"You do?"
Arthur nodded slowly.
"There are only three churches in the county with a copper steeple like that."
Marcus immediately called the security team.
"Split into three units."
"Search every abandoned building within one kilometer of each church."
Arthur added,
"No police."
Marcus looked surprised.
"Sir?"
"If the kidnapper has someone inside law enforcement..."
"They'll know we're coming."
Marcus didn't argue.
He simply nodded.
Across the mansion...
Victoria sat alone in her bedroom.
The elegant woman who had always appeared flawless now looked exhausted.
She hadn't slept.
She hadn't changed clothes.
She kept staring at herself in the mirror.
Then she opened the bedside drawer.
Inside lay an old velvet jewelry box.
She lifted it carefully.
Beneath it...
A photograph.
Claire.
Arthur.
And Victoria.
Taken twelve years earlier.
Long before Arthur married Victoria.
Long before Claire died.
Victoria quickly shoved the picture back into the drawer as someone knocked.
Three knocks.
Her breathing stopped.
Three knocks.
Exactly like the basement.
Exactly like Margaret had described.
She walked slowly toward the door.
"Who is it?"
No answer.
Another three knocks.
Victoria opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
Completely empty.
She stepped outside.
Nothing.
Then she looked down.
A white envelope rested on the carpet.
No name.
No stamp.
Just her room number.
Hands trembling, she opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
"I remember the bridge."
Victoria staggered backward.
The paper slipped from her fingers.
"No..."
She whispered to herself.
"That's impossible."
"Nobody remembers."
Arthur entered the room moments later.
He found Victoria sitting on the floor.
Her face had lost all color.
He noticed the envelope immediately.
He picked it up.
She lunged toward him.
"Don't!"
Too late.
Arthur had already read it.
"I remember the bridge."
He looked at Victoria.
"What bridge?"
She shook her head violently.
"I don't know."
Arthur crouched.
"You've lied to me all night."
"This is your last chance."
Victoria's eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't kill Claire."
Arthur hadn't mentioned murder.
He stared at her.
"You said it."
Victoria froze.
She realized her mistake.
Arthur stood slowly.
"I asked about a bridge."
"You answered about Claire."
The room became unbearably quiet.
Victoria covered her mouth.
She had just revealed more than she intended.
Marcus rushed into the room.
"Sir."
Arthur turned.
"We've identified the church."
"What?"
"The one in the photograph."
Arthur's eyes sharpened.
"Where?"
Marcus spread a map across the table.
"The old Saint Bartholomew Church."
"It was abandoned eight years ago."
"Less than twenty minutes from here."
Arthur grabbed his coat.
"We leave now."
Marcus hesitated.
"There's something else."
Arthur looked up.
"A vehicle left the church fifteen minutes ago."
"Did we identify it?"
Marcus nodded grimly.
"A black SUV."
Arthur's expression darkened.
"What model?"
Marcus answered quietly.
"The same model Claire was driving..."
"...the night she died."
Arthur felt a chill run down his spine.
That exact vehicle had been destroyed in the ravine.
Insurance records confirmed it.
Police photographs confirmed it.
So how could an identical SUV be leaving an abandoned church tonight?
Meanwhile...
Emily sat quietly in a candlelit room.
Across from her sat a woman dressed entirely in black.
Her face remained hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
The woman gently placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of Emily.
"You've been very brave."
Emily didn't touch it.
"You miss your daddy?"
Emily nodded.
The woman smiled sadly.
"So do I."
Emily frowned.
"What?"
The woman reached into her pocket.
She removed an old silver locket.
Inside were two faded photographs.
One showed baby Emily.
The other...
Made the little girl's eyes widen.
It was a smiling woman with kind blue eyes.
Emily recognized her instantly.
"My mommy..."
The woman closed the locket.
"Yes."
Emily looked up.
"Did you know my mommy?"
A long silence followed.
Finally, the woman answered.
"Better than anyone."
Emily tilted her head.
"Who are you?"
The woman slowly removed one black glove.
On the inside of her wrist...
A long, jagged scar stretched almost to her elbow.
She looked at Emily with tears gathering in her eyes.
May you like
Then she whispered five words that changed everything.
"I was supposed to die."
