Chapter 4 - We Found My Mother’s Apartment Empty—Except for One Bloodstained Note Addressed Directly to NathanielThe apartment door was open.
That was the first thing we noticed.
The second was the silence.
Nathaniel entered first.
His men followed.
I stayed behind him.
Our apartment looked exactly as I remembered.
Except everything was overturned.
The kitchen drawers were open.
The couch cushions had been ripped apart.
My mother's bedroom was destroyed.
"Mom?"
No answer.
I ran forward.
Nathaniel caught my shoulder.
"Stay behind me."
"But—"
"Ruby."
I stopped.
He looked at the floor.
There were drops of blood.
My heart stopped.
"Is that hers?"
Nathaniel didn't answer.
One of his men checked the blood.
"Fresh."
I began shaking.
Nathaniel immediately turned to me.
"She's alive."
"You don't know that."
"I know your mother."
He paused.
"She wouldn't leave without fighting."
We searched every room.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the music box.
I ran into my mother's bedroom.
The blue box was still there.
I picked it up.
Nathaniel stopped me.
"Don't."
"Why?"
"Because that's what they were looking for."
He carefully opened it.
A hidden compartment appeared beneath the velvet lining.
Inside was a small photograph.
And a key.
Nathaniel picked up the photograph.
His face went pale.
It showed Daniel.
Alive.
Standing beside my mother.
And beside them was a third man.
Nathaniel stared at him.
"No."
"Who is that?"
He didn't answer.
I looked closer.
The man looked familiar.
Then I realized why.
He was the man who had delivered our eviction notice.
Nathaniel whispered his name.
"Marcus Vale."
The same man who had been standing beside Nathaniel earlier that day.
I looked at Nathaniel.
"Your friend?"
His expression hardened.
"My chief financial officer."
Before we could move, something slid beneath the apartment door.
An envelope.
Nathaniel opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Only six words were written.
YOU SHOULD HAVE FOUND HER SOONER, NATHANIEL.
Underneath was a photograph.
My mother.
Alive.
Bound to a chair.
My blood turned cold.
Nathaniel's eyes became murderous.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
A voice spoke.
"Now you know."
Nathaniel's voice was terrifyingly calm.
"If you touch her—"
"We won't."
"Who are you?"
"You still don't understand."
The voice laughed.
"Daniel isn't your enemy."
Nathaniel froze.
"Then who is?"
The answer came slowly.
"You are."
The call ended.
Nathaniel looked at the photograph.
For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.
May you like
Not fear for himself.
Fear for my mother.
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