Chapter 3 - A Room With No Locks
The first night away from Derek, I couldn't sleep.
Lily had arranged for us to stay with her friend Marissa, a middle-school teacher who lived in a secure apartment building on Chicago's North Side.
Marissa gave me clean pajamas, an extra toothbrush, and the guest bedroom.
"You can lock the door if it makes you comfortable," she said.
I stared at the brass lock.
For three years, I had never been allowed to lock a bedroom door.
Derek called privacy secrecy.
He called secrets betrayal.
And he considered betrayal something that deserved punishment.
"Does it lock from the outside?" I asked.
Marissa looked confused.
"No."
My throat tightened.
She smiled gently.
"Only from the inside."
After she left, I tested it three times.
Then I sat on the bed and cried.
Freedom didn't feel the way I'd imagined.
It didn't arrive with fireworks or music.
It arrived as a quiet room where nobody could enter without my permission.
---
The next morning, Rebecca Hale met us in a modest downtown office.
She wore glasses, a blue blazer, and an expression that suggested very little surprised her.
"I want to explain something before we begin," she said. "You are in charge of what happens next."
I almost laughed.
It was becoming a strange theme.
Alexander had said it.
Lily had said it.
Now Rebecca.
After years of being controlled, hearing those words felt unfamiliar.
Rebecca asked whether I wanted Lily present.
I did.
Then she explained my options.
We discussed a protective order.
Preserving text messages.
Photographing injuries.
Changing passwords from a safe device.
Separating financial accounts.
Making arrangements to collect personal belongings without confronting Derek.
Every suggestion came with choices.
Nothing was forced.
When Rebecca asked about the power of attorney, I told her everything I remembered.
Derek had taken me to a notary fourteen months earlier.
He said it was necessary because I sometimes became overwhelmed by paperwork.
Dr. Voss had written a letter supporting his concerns.
I had signed six documents.
I remembered one because Derek held his hand over part of the page.
"Trust me," he'd said.
The memory made me nauseated.
Rebecca listened carefully.
Then she requested copies of the documents through appropriate legal channels.
"Emily, do you own property?" she asked.
"No."
"Are you certain?"
I hesitated.
"My mother left me something when she died."
"What?"
"A small publishing company. It had been my grandfather's business."
"What happened to it?"
"Derek said it had debts. He handled the sale."
Rebecca stopped writing.
"When?"
"Last year."
"How much was it worth?"
I shrugged.
"He said almost nothing."
Lily stared at me.
"Emily, Mom's company wasn't worthless."
I turned toward her.
"What?"
"She had a commercial building. And a portfolio of publishing rights. Mom always said it was supposed to help you start over if you ever needed to."
My heart began pounding.
"Derek told me the building had been sold to pay taxes."
Lily looked at Rebecca.
"That doesn't sound right."
Rebecca closed her notebook.
"We'll verify ownership and the transaction history. But I want you both to understand that we don't yet know whether wrongdoing occurred."
I nodded.
Somehow, being told we needed evidence made me feel safer than hearing somebody promise revenge.
---
By noon, Derek had called twenty-three times.
Not my phone.
Lily's.
He left increasingly frantic voicemails.
The first sounded concerned.
"Emily, sweetheart, please call me. I just want to know you're safe."
The second sounded wounded.
"I can't believe you'd do this on our anniversary."
The third became angry.
"You are humiliating me. People are asking questions."
Then came the message that made Rebecca's expression change.
"Emily, I know you've been talking to people. Remember what the doctor said about your episodes. Don't make me take steps to protect you from yourself."
Rebecca saved the recording.
"That could be relevant," she said.
I looked down.
"I used to believe him."
Lily squeezed my hand.
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Emily, recognizing manipulation after prolonged abuse can take time. What's important is what you know now and the choices you make with support."
I took a breath.
"I don't want to go back."
"Then we'll help you pursue that safely."
---
Later that afternoon, I received an unexpected call.
Alexander Moretti.
I almost didn't answer.
Then curiosity won.
"Hello?"
"Emily. This is Alexander. Is now a good time?"
I glanced at Lily.
"Yes."
"I'm calling because something concerning has come up. You don't have to discuss it with me."
I waited.
"Dr. Caroline Voss used to work with a financial consultant named Martin Vale."
The name meant nothing.
"Who is he?"
"A man my associates have investigated for fraudulent transfers involving vulnerable clients."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Possibly nothing. But I've asked counsel to preserve relevant business records where legally available."
I looked out the window.
"Why does a mafia boss care about financial fraud?"
A pause.
Then, unexpectedly, Alexander laughed.
"That's a fair question."
I held my breath.
He continued.
"Because organized crime has more accountants than movie theaters would have you believe. And because some of the people involved have been stealing money through businesses connected to mine."
I swallowed.
"So you have your own reasons."
"Yes."
The honesty surprised me.
"Thank you for saying that."
"I don't want you believing I'm some kind of saint."
"Believe me, Mr. Moretti, I'm not looking for another man to save me."
"Good."
Something in his voice softened.
"You deserve the chance to save yourself."
I stared at the phone.
Derek would have considered that an insult.
Alexander sounded proud.
Before ending the call, he added, "Rebecca is the right person to handle your situation. If she needs records from us, she can contact our legal team."
"Alexander?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you let me hide under your desk?"
Silence.
Then he answered.
"Because my mother once needed thirty seconds to get away from a man."
My chest tightened.
"Did she?"
"She didn't get them."
He ended the call shortly afterward.
I sat staring at my phone.
For the first time, I wondered what had made a man like Alexander Moretti so dangerous.
And what had made him understand fear so well.
---
That evening, Rebecca called with preliminary findings.
The publishing company's building had not been sold in the way Derek described.
Its ownership had been transferred through a chain of limited liability companies.
One was controlled by Derek.
Another had ties to Martin Vale.
And the authorization appeared to rely on the power of attorney I had signed.
I couldn't speak.
Rebecca continued carefully.
"We haven't established whether the transaction was unlawful. But there are enough irregularities to warrant a detailed review."
I looked at Lily.
She saw my face.
"What happened?"
I covered the phone.
"Mom's building."
Lily went still.
Rebecca said, "There's something else, Emily."
I brought the phone back to my ear.
"What?"
"Your mother's company received a substantial payment six months before the transfer. We don't yet know its source."
"How substantial?"
"Approximately two million dollars."
My knees weakened.
Derek had told me there was no money.
He had controlled my grocery allowance.
Made me account for every purchase.
He had once screamed at me for spending eighteen dollars on a birthday gift for Lily.
And all that time, my inheritance had been worth more than I could imagine.
I sat down slowly.
Then Rebecca said something even stranger.
"The payment description refers to an unpublished manuscript."
I frowned.
"My mother was a publisher. She handled manuscripts all the time."
"I understand. But this document has a particular title."
"What title?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"'The Woman Who Vanished.'"
The room seemed to tilt.
Because I had heard that title before.
May you like
My mother had whispered it on her deathbed.
And Derek had been standing beside the door when she said it.
