Chapter 3 - The Echoes of a Stolen Past
The dial tone hummed in Sarah's ear like an angry hornet.
She lowered her phone, her hand shaking so violently that the device nearly slipped from her grip onto the plush carpet of the VIP suite.
Burn the photograph.
Whoever was on the other end of that call was watching her.
They knew she had encountered David.
They knew she held the physical proof of a decade-long deception.
Sarah rushed to the marble-top vanity, pulled open her clutch, and yanked out the Polaroid.
The image of young Emma standing beside the mysterious little boy stared back at her under the harsh vanity lights.
She flipped it over again.
October 14, 2014.
She tried to rack her brain, pulling up memories from twelve years ago.
Where had Emma been on October 14, 2014?
Emma had been eight years old.
There was a week that autumn when Emma had come down with a sudden, mysterious fever.
Sarah remembered taking her to the local pediatric clinic.
Dr. Harrison had treated her, giving them a prescription for antibiotics, claiming it was just a seasonal infection.
But what if that clinic visit was a lie?
What if Emma had been taken somewhere else?
Sarah grabbed her purse, bolted out of the suite, and hurried down the service staircase to avoid running into wedding guests.
She needed to get to her car.
She needed to drive to the old clinic records office before morning.
As she pushed open the exit door leading into the underground parking garage, the cool night air hit her face.
Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting long, eerie shadows across rows of luxury sedans and SUVs.
Sarah clicked her car key fob, listening for the familiar beep of her Honda SUV parked near pillar twelve.
Beep. Beep.
She walked quickly across the concrete floor, her heels clicking rhythmically against the ground.
Suddenly, a low, metallic scraping sound echoed from the dark corner near the utility room.
Sarah froze.
“Hello?” she called out, her voice echoing off the concrete walls.
No answer.
Just the steady dripping of a leaking pipe somewhere in the distance.
She took three tentative steps toward her vehicle, keeping her eyes fixed on the shadows.
A figure stepped out from behind a black Mercedes.
It wasn't David.
This man was younger, wearing a sleek black suit with an earpiece tucked into his ear.
He held a small, black ledger in his hand.
“Mrs. Mitchell,” the man said smoothly, his voice devoid of warmth. “Richard Vance sends his regards. He suggests you return to the ballroom and enjoy the party.”
Sarah stood her ground, clutching her bag defensively.
“Who are you? What does Richard have to do with my husband?”
The man took a slow step forward, the fluorescent light glinting off a silver cufflink bearing the Vance family crest.
“Richard Vance doesn't like loose ends. And twelve-year-old ghosts have a habit of disrupting very expensive weddings.”
“David is alive,” Sarah said, her voice rising with fierce maternal anger. “And you people have been lying to us for over a decade.”
“Alive is a relative term, Mrs. Mitchell,” the man replied, stepping closer. “Some people are better off staying buried in the past. If you value your daughter's future, and her new husband's massive inheritance, you will forget every word that man told you tonight.”
Before Sarah could retort, heavy footsteps echoed behind her.
Another guard emerged from the stairwell exit, blocking her path back to the ballroom.
She was trapped between two corporate enforcers.
Sarah's mind raced.
She couldn't fight them physically.
She had to use their arrogance against them.
As the first man reached out to grab her wrist, Sarah slammed her heel down onto his polished leather shoe with all her might.
The man hissed in pain, releasing his grip.
Sarah didn't hesitate.
She bolted past the second guard, ducked beneath a low-hanging security camera, and sprinted toward the main ramp leading up to the street level.
Shouts echoed behind her.
May you like
“Catch her! Don't let her reach her car!”
Sarah’s lungs burned as she burst out of the garage and into the cool midnight air of the city street.
