Chapter 4: The Fifth Victim
The rain had not stopped for three days.
Gray clouds hung low over the city, as if even the sky refused to celebrate anything anymore.
Inside Whitmore Manor, every television remained switched off.
No reporters.
No headlines.
No rumors.
Only silence.
Clara stood before the enormous dining table where dozens of folders lay open.
Each folder represented another woman.
Another broken engagement.
Another destroyed life.
Sarah Collins.
Rebecca Lawson.
Monica Hayes.
Julia Bennett.
Different cities.
Different careers.
Different dreams.
Yet every story ended with Adrian Mercer walking away wealthier while someone else was left trying to rebuild from nothing.
Mia entered quietly carrying two cups of coffee.
"You've been here all night."
Clara barely looked up.
"I think we're still missing someone."
Mia frowned.
"What makes you think that?"
Clara slid several photographs across the table.
"Look at the dates."
Mia leaned closer.
Adrian's relationships followed an almost mechanical pattern.
One woman every two or three years.
Engagement.
Shared finances.
Sudden financial disaster.
Disappearance.
Then another engagement.
Another victim.
Another beginning.
"He plans everything," Clara whispered.
"He never overlaps."
Mia nodded.
"But there are only four women before you."
Clara pointed to a gap in the timeline.
"No."
"There should be five."
Across town...
Adrian Mercer walked into his office as if nothing had happened.
His employees greeted him politely.
Some avoided eye contact.
Others secretly wondered whether the stories online were true.
He smiled at everyone.
Calm.
Collected.
Perfectly composed.
Inside his office, Victor Lang was already waiting.
"The media campaign is working."
Adrian removed his jacket.
"I know."
"Public opinion has shifted."
Victor handed him a tablet.
The comments beneath the latest article scrolled endlessly.
"Poor Adrian."
"Mental illness destroys families."
"He deserved better."
"That woman humiliated him."
Adrian smiled.
"People don't need facts."
"They only need a story."
Victor hesitated.
"There is one problem."
Adrian looked up.
"Evelyn Carter."
"We still haven't found her."
For the first time that morning...
Adrian's smile disappeared.
At exactly eleven o'clock...
Whitmore Manor's intercom buzzed.
Security called again.
"Miss Whitmore?"
"Yes?"
"A package has arrived."
"Who sent it?"
"No return address."
Clara exchanged a glance with Mia.
"Bring it inside."
The package was surprisingly small.
A plain brown envelope.
No stamp.
No name.
Nothing.
Inside...
There was only one object.
A silver key.
Attached to it was a handwritten note.
Find Olivia.
Nothing else.
No explanation.
No address.
No signature.
Clara read it again.
"Olivia?"
Sarah looked up immediately.
"I know that name."
Everyone turned toward her.
Sarah swallowed.
"I only met her once."
"When?"
"Years ago."
"Adrian introduced us at a charity dinner."
"What happened?"
Sarah's face grew pale.
"She disappeared."
The room fell silent.
"What do you mean disappeared?" Clara asked.
Sarah folded her hands tightly.
"She was engaged to Adrian before me."
"No one ever talked about her afterward."
"I tried contacting her."
"No phone."
"No address."
"Her social media vanished."
"It was as if she had never existed."
Mia opened her laptop.
Within seconds she was searching.
Olivia.
No results.
Olivia Harper.
Hundreds of names.
Olivia Harper and Adrian Mercer.
Nothing.
It was impossible.
In today's world...
Nobody simply disappeared.
Meanwhile...
Forty miles away...
An elderly man unlocked a tiny antique shop that had belonged to his family for over sixty years.
His name was Walter Greene.
He looked around nervously before flipping the sign to OPEN.
A young woman entered moments later.
She wore a baseball cap pulled low over her face.
Dark sunglasses.
Loose clothing.
She waited until the door closed.
Then removed the glasses.
Walter smiled sadly.
"You came."
The woman nodded.
"I saw the news."
"You knew it would happen eventually."
She looked toward the television in the corner.
Clara's canceled wedding filled every channel.
"I hoped someone would stop him."
Walter handed her a newspaper.
"They finally did."
The woman stared at Clara's photograph for a long time.
Tears slowly filled her eyes.
"I wish someone had stopped him before..."
She couldn't finish the sentence.
Walter quietly placed a hand over hers.
"Olivia."
"It's time."
Back at Whitmore Manor...
Mia finally found something unusual.
"There."
"What?"
"A property tax record."
She enlarged the screen.
An abandoned farmhouse outside the city.
Owner:
Olivia Harper.
Status:
Property taxes unpaid for eight years.
Clara frowned.
"Eight years?"
Sarah nodded slowly.
"That's exactly when she disappeared."
Without another word, Clara stood.
"I'm going."
Mia looked shocked.
"Now?"
"If Adrian erased her..."
Clara grabbed the silver key.
"...then whatever's left may still be waiting."
Two hours later...
Their SUV rolled down a narrow country road surrounded by overgrown trees.
The farmhouse appeared through the mist.
Its windows were boarded.
The roof sagged.
Nature had almost swallowed the building whole.
Mia looked uncertain.
"Are we sure about this?"
Clara stared at the key in her hand.
"We didn't come all this way to leave."
The front door was locked.
The silver key fit perfectly.
The lock clicked.
The door slowly opened with a long, haunting creak.
Dust filled the air.
Furniture remained exactly where someone had left it years ago.
Coffee cups still rested on the kitchen table.
A calendar hung on the wall.
The date circled in red...
September 14.
Eight years earlier.
It looked as though time had stopped.
Mia whispered,
"It's like someone walked out..."
"...and never came back."
They searched every room.
Nothing.
No letters.
No photographs.
No computers.
Everything important had been removed.
Adrian had been thorough.
Too thorough.
Clara sat heavily in an old wooden chair.
"We're too late."
Then...
She heard something.
A faint metallic sound beneath the floorboards.
She knelt.
Tapped the wood.
One section echoed differently.
"Hammer."
Mia searched the garage.
Minutes later she returned.
Three blows were enough.
The old board cracked open.
Beneath it...
A small steel safe.
The silver key...
Did not fit.
Clara sighed.
"It's locked."
Then Mia noticed something taped underneath the safe.
Another note.
This one yellow with age.
Only four words.
The ledger saves everyone.
"What ledger?" Mia whispered.
Before Clara could answer...
A car engine echoed outside.
Both women froze.
Headlights swept across the dusty windows.
Someone had arrived.
The front gate slowly opened.
Clara extinguished her flashlight.
Heavy footsteps approached the front porch.
The old wooden floor creaked beneath unfamiliar weight.
Then...
Someone tried the front door.
The handle turned.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Clara's heart pounded.
She looked toward Mia.
Neither of them breathed.
The footsteps stopped.
Silence.
Then a man's voice came from the other side of the door.
Cold.
Calm.
Almost amused.
"I know you're in there."
Clara's blood ran cold.
May you like
She recognized that voice immediately.
Adrian.
