Chapter 3
The service cavity was not a dead space.
It connected to the old west passage.
I knew that because my grandfather built the house.
I had ordered the passage sealed years ago.
Apparently someone ignored me.
Cole? no Cole in this story. I had my bodyguards remove the back panel.
Behind it—
a narrow corridor.
Dust disturbed recently.
Water bottles.
Blankets.
Food wrappers.
One small pink shoe that didn't belong to Ava.
Lily's.
She had crawled inside too.
My stomach turned.
I looked at Mara.
“You let Lily go in there?”
“She disobeyed me.”
“What?”
“I told her to stay away.”
I stared.
Mara continued.
“She kept feeding the girl.”
“Ava.”
Her face hardened.
“Fine.”
She looked directly at Ava.
“Ava.”
The child flinched.
Mara smiled.
“Happy?”
No.
I wasn't.
“Why keep her alive?”
Marco looked at me.
“That is a disgusting question.”
I almost laughed.
“Coming from the man who punched me because I found her.”
His jaw tightened.
I continued.
“You could have sent her away the first night.”
Silence.
“You didn't.”
Nothing.
“You needed something.”
Mara looked away.
Good.
I crouched beside Ava.
“Did they ask you questions?”
She nodded.
“About what?”
“Mommy's key.”
Mara closed her eyes.
There.
“What key?”
Ava hugged Bunny tighter.
“Red one.”
“Do you have it?”
She shook her head.
“Mommy hid.”
“Where?”
Ava looked at Mara.
Fear.
I moved closer.
“She can't hurt you.”
Mara laughed.
“Don't promise things you can't control.”
I slowly turned.
She smiled.
“You leave.”
Her voice was poisonous.
“You have meetings.”
“Men call.”
“Doors close.”
Then she looked at Ava.
“And little girls end up alone.”
I stood.
“You told her that.”
Mara shrugged.
“Reality is useful.”
“No.”
I stared.
“Fear is useful to you.”
Her smile disappeared.
Good.
Ava touched my hand.
“Mommy said Mara was there.”
My chest tightened.
“Where?”
“When they took us.”
Silence.
Marco stopped moving.
Mara's expression emptied.
“When did they take you?”
Ava struggled.
“Long ago.”
“How old?”
She held up two fingers.
My blood went cold.
Grace and Ava disappeared when Ava was two.
Four years ago.
I had been told Grace packed a car, took our daughter and left because she wanted nothing to do with Carter life.
I believed it because Mara brought me Grace's goodbye recording.
Mara.
The woman I married one year later.
I stared at my wife.
“You were there.”
“No.”
Ava shook her head.
“Yes.”
Mara looked at the child.
Her face became cruel.
“Children remember dreams.”
Ava started crying.
Mara continued.
“You were two.”
“Stop.”
“You barely knew your own name.”
“Stop.”
“You think one dead woman filled your head with stories and now—”
I crossed the room.
Mara stopped.
I stared until she looked away.
Then Ava whispered:
“Mommy screamed your name.”
My entire body went still.
May you like
Mara's eyes flicked toward Marco.
And in that one glance, I knew my daughter remembered something real.
