Chapter 4 - Tessa's Secret Room
We returned home separately.
I told Maren to stay with a friend.
She refused.
“I don't want to hide anymore.”
I understood.
So I offered her the guesthouse on my estate.
She stared at me.
“Your fiancée will hate it.”
“Tessa doesn't own my house.”
“She thinks she does.”
“She won't for long.”
That night, I confronted Tessa.
She was in the dressing room.
She was trying on wedding jewelry.
“You're home.”
I closed the door.
“Where's Daniel?”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“I asked where your brother is.”
“Out of town.”
“Where?”
She smiled.
“You've been acting strange.”
“I found the hospital records.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What hospital records?”
“Saint Matthew's.”
She froze.
I stepped closer.
“They say Maren gave birth to three boys.”
Tessa's face went white.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Then why did you tell the hospital to amend the records?”
“I didn't.”
“Why did Daniel have a hospital badge?”
She said nothing.
“Where is my son?”
She backed away.
“Rowan.”
“Where is he?”
“I can't believe you would accuse me of something like this.”
“You planted evidence against my wife.”
“I never—”
“You paid my investigator.”
She stopped.
“You forged hotel evidence.”
Silence.
“You lied to me for a year.”
“I loved you.”
“You destroyed my family.”
“I saved you from Maren.”
I laughed.
“Saved me?”
“She was never good enough for you.”
“There it is.”
I shook my head.
“You never loved me.”
Her eyes hardened.
“You don't know what I sacrificed.”
“What did you sacrifice?”
“You.”
I stared at her.
“You think this was about money?”
“Yes.”
She walked toward me.
“I wanted a life with you.”
“You could have had one.”
“Not while she existed.”
“So you destroyed her.”
“She destroyed herself.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You did.”
She began crying.
But the tears didn't move me.
“Where is my son?”
“I don't know.”
“Tessa.”
“I don't.”
I turned away.
“Tomorrow, we're going to the police.”
She grabbed my arm.
“Don't.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“You don't know what will happen.”
“To whom?”
“To you.”
She whispered.
“If you open this door, your entire company will collapse.”
I looked at her.
“What did you do?”
She didn't answer.
I walked out.
Hours later, Simone called.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“Tessa has a private storage facility.”
“Where?”
“Thirty miles outside Franklin.”
“What's inside?”
“I don't know.”
We went there with a warrant.
The facility manager opened Unit 17.
Inside were boxes.
Photographs.
Documents.
Hospital records.
Bank statements.
And a small wooden toy.
A blue elephant.
Maren stared at it.
“It was in the nursery.”
She picked it up.
“I bought this for the triplets.”
I looked at the photographs.
Tessa had been photographing Maren throughout her pregnancy.
From a distance.
At restaurants.
Outside doctor's offices.
At the courthouse.
Everything had been planned.
In one photograph, Tessa stood outside the hospital.
The date was the day the twins were born.
She wasn't supposed to be there.
She had been there.
I opened another box.
Inside was a letter.
From Tessa to Daniel.
Make sure the third child disappears before Rowan sees the records.
I felt sick.
Another letter:
The twins stay with Maren because Rowan must never know about them.
A third:
Once the divorce is final, she will have nowhere to go.
I looked at Simone.
“She planned everything.”
Simone nodded.
“There's more.”
She opened a locked cabinet.
Inside were financial records.
Payments to Glenn.
Payments to hospital staff.
Payments to Daniel.
Payments to a private nanny.
My heart stopped.
“A nanny?”
Simone pointed at one line.
Monthly payment.
Eleven consecutive months.
My son had not disappeared.
Someone had been caring for him.
The payments went to a company in Kentucky.
We traced the address.
A farmhouse.
When we arrived, it was empty.
But the mail was fresh.
And in the kitchen, we found a child's cup.
Tiny.
Blue.
On the refrigerator was a photograph.
A baby with blond hair.
The same crescent birthmark.
Maren sobbed.
“He's alive.”
I touched the photograph.
My son.
My missing son.
The note beneath the photograph contained only two words.
Safe. For now.
Then we heard a car.
Someone was coming.
We ran outside.
A woman stood near the gate.
She was holding a baby.
A little boy.
Blond hair.
Blue eyes.
The birthmark.
Maren stopped breathing.
The woman looked at us.
“I was told you'd never find him.”
I took one step forward.
“Who are you?”
She looked at the child.
“My name is Clara.”
“Are you his nanny?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I was his foster mother.”
My heart broke.
“Where is his mother?”
Clara looked at Maren.
“You are.”
Maren began crying.
Clara walked forward.
“He's been waiting for you.”
The baby reached toward her.
Then toward Maren.
Maren held out her arms.
Clara placed him in them.
The moment Maren held him, he began crying.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
She kissed his forehead.
“My baby.”
I touched his little hand.
His fingers wrapped around mine.
And for the first time in fourteen months, I felt like a father.
But Clara's next sentence changed everything.
“Tessa told me Rowan was dangerous.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“She said if we gave the baby back to you, someone would kill him.”
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“We need to know.”
Clara looked frightened.
“She wasn't the only person involved.”
“Who else?”
May you like
She whispered:
“Your father-in-law.”
