Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO NEVER LEFT
The morning after our wedding, Aiden told Detective Monroe about the second room.
We sat in his private study while rain continued falling outside.
Aiden looked exhausted.
He'd barely slept.
But he was determined.
"There was a staircase behind the red door," he explained.
Rachel opened her notebook.
"Do you remember where it led?"
"Down to a storage area. I thought it was part of the basement."
"Was there another exit?"
"I don't know."
He rubbed his palms together.
"But I remember a woman."
I looked at him.
"A woman?"
He nodded.
"She spoke to Noah."
"What did she say?" Rachel asked.
Aiden closed his eyes.
"She told him not to be afraid."
His breathing changed.
"She sounded like my mother."
My stomach tightened.
Rachel leaned forward.
"Did you see her?"
"No."
"Could you identify her voice?"
Aiden hesitated.
"I was eight. I'm not sure."
The detective nodded.
"That's okay."
She continued taking notes.
Aiden stared at his hands.
"Victor told me she was dead."
"Your mother?"
"Yes."
I felt cold.
"But nobody ever showed me proof."
Rachel looked up.
"Do you have a death certificate?"
Aiden shook his head.
"No."
"What about an official missing-person report?"
"My father said he'd handled everything."
Rachel wrote something down.
Then looked at Aiden.
"We should examine that history independently."
Aiden nodded.
For the first time, there was a possibility that Noah wasn't the only missing person whose story had been controlled by Victor.
Two days later, Rachel called.
She'd located an old employment record.
Caroline Chambers had worked briefly at a private rehabilitation center before her disappearance.
The facility was called Harbor Ridge.
It had since closed.
But several former employees were still alive.
One of them remembered a woman who arrived under a different surname.
She was quiet.
Frightened.
And apparently afraid of a man named Victor.
Aiden listened while Rachel explained.
"Do you think it was my mother?"
"We don't know."
"But it could be?"
"Yes."
He closed his eyes.
I sat beside him.
For years, he'd believed his mother abandoned him.
Now there was a chance she'd been forced into hiding.
Or worse.
He looked at me.
"Tessa, what if she's alive?"
I swallowed.
"Then you deserve to know."
"And if she isn't?"
I took his hand after he nodded.
"Then you still deserve the truth."
The marriage changed our daily lives in unexpected ways.
Aiden had arranged a separate bedroom for me.
I refused.
"Why?"
He looked confused.
"Because I thought you'd want privacy."
"I do."
"Then—"
"Aiden, privacy doesn't require sleeping on opposite ends of the apartment."
His cheeks reddened.
I smiled.
"We can share a room and still respect each other's boundaries."
He considered that.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
We developed simple routines.
He made coffee.
I complained about his coffee.
He tried to learn how to cook.
I introduced him to cheap grocery-store cookies.
He discovered that Lily could beat him at chess.
Lily discovered that Aiden was terrible at accepting defeat.
One evening, she checkmated him in twelve moves.
He stared at the board.
"That's impossible."
Lily grinned.
"Apparently not."
He looked at me.
"Did you teach her?"
I laughed.
"She taught herself."
Lily leaned back.
"Would you like another lesson, Mr. Mafia Boss?"
Aiden raised an eyebrow.
"Careful. I might hire a professional."
She laughed.
"That sounds like cheating."
He smiled.
"In my previous life, it probably would have been."
We all laughed.
But afterward, Aiden grew quiet.
I noticed.
When Lily left to take a call, I asked, "What's wrong?"
He looked at the chessboard.
"I keep thinking about Noah."
I nodded.
"He would've liked her."
My heart tightened.
"I'm sure he would."
Aiden looked at me.
"Sometimes I'm afraid that if we find him, he won't want to know me."
I considered the question.
"You can't control that."
"I know."
"But you can tell him the truth."
Aiden nodded slowly.
"And let him decide."
I smiled.
"Exactly."
The following week, Rachel found a former Harbor Ridge nurse named Judith Shaw.
Judith was sixty-seven and lived outside Spokane.
She agreed to meet with investigators.
Her testimony was startling.
In 2002, she had cared for a woman named Caroline Mercer.
The woman had arrived with injuries and severe anxiety.
She refused to discuss her family.
But she repeatedly asked whether two boys were safe.
Aiden and Noah.
Judith remembered the names because the patient wrote them on scraps of paper.
Every day.
For months.
Rachel showed Aiden a photocopy of one note.
His hands began shaking.
Please tell Aiden and Noah I didn't leave them.
He stared at the handwriting.
Then began crying.
"My mother wrote that."
I moved closer.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded.
"I remember her handwriting."
Rachel spoke gently.
"We'll still need to authenticate the records."
Aiden nodded.
But he couldn't stop crying.
For twenty-four years, he'd carried the belief that his mother had chosen to abandon him.
Now there was evidence she had been desperate to reach him.
The truth didn't erase the pain.
It made the years he'd lost even harder to understand.
Three days later, Judith provided another important detail.
Caroline had been transferred from Harbor Ridge to a facility near Vancouver.
The transfer had been arranged through a private attorney.
The attorney's name was Victor Chambers.
Rachel stared at the record.
"That explains why we've struggled to locate her."
Aiden's face hardened.
"Victor controlled the transfers."
"Possibly."
"And he knew where she was."
"That is something we'll investigate."
Aiden stood.
His hands were clenched.
For a moment, I saw the man Seattle feared.
Then he looked at me.
I held his gaze.
"Aiden."
He breathed heavily.
"Don't let him turn you into someone you don't want to be."
His shoulders slowly lowered.
He closed his eyes.
"You're right."
Rachel watched us carefully.
Then said, "The most useful thing you can do right now is keep cooperating."
Aiden nodded.
"I will."
That evening, we sat on the balcony overlooking Seattle.
The air smelled of rain.
Aiden held a mug of tea.
I sat beside him beneath a blanket.
After a while, he asked, "Do you ever regret marrying me?"
I looked at him.
"No."
"Even with all this?"
I considered the question.
"I regret that you've suffered."
He looked away.
"And I regret that your family's choices have endangered mine."
His shoulders stiffened.
"But I don't regret choosing you."
He turned toward me.
Tears filled his eyes.
I smiled gently.
"Marriage doesn't mean pretending everything is fine."
"I know."
"It means telling the truth, even when it's uncomfortable."
He nodded.
Then he asked softly, "Can I kiss you?"
I smiled.
"Yes."
He leaned toward me.
The kiss was gentle.
A little longer than our first.
When we separated, he rested his forehead against mine.
"I love you, Tessa."
My heart warmed.
"I love you too."
He closed his eyes.
And for several minutes, we simply listened to the rain.
Then his phone rang.
Marcus.
Aiden answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
"What?"
I sat upright.
"Where?"
Silence.
Then Aiden whispered, "Are you certain?"
He looked at me.
His face had gone completely white.
Marcus had found a new photograph.
Taken only three days earlier.
It showed a gray-haired woman standing outside a small house near Vancouver.
Beside her stood a man in his late twenties.
May you like
The woman resembled Caroline Chambers.
And the young man had Aiden's eyes.
