Chapter 2 - The Woman Claire Said Was Dead
Ethan demanded the key.
Claire refused.
Not because she claimed nobody was behind the door.
That would have been impossible now.
Instead she said:
“You need to let me explain first.”
Ethan crossed the distance between them.
“The key.”
Claire looked toward the guests.
Her polished dinner-party composure collapsed under thirty pairs of eyes.
Finally, she reached into the small pocket hidden in her dress and placed a brass key into Ethan’s palm.
He unlocked the door.
Rachel was inside.
Alive.
She sat on a small upholstered bench, pale and exhausted, wrapped in a gray cardigan Ethan recognized from home.
No ropes.
No obvious injury.
But the door had been locked from outside.
A half-finished glass of water sat beside her.
Several packed bags were stacked near the wall.
Lily ran toward her.
“Mom!”
Rachel dropped to her knees and caught both children as they crashed into her.
Noah sobbed so hard he could barely breathe.
Ethan remained frozen.
Rachel looked at him over Lily’s shoulder.
“I tried to call you.”
His voice came out broken.
“I buried you.”
Rachel’s expression changed.
“You what?”
Claire closed her eyes.
Ethan stared at her.
There had been a memorial.
A certificate from an overseas clinic.
An urn.
Condolence letters.
Three months of grief.
Rachel had supposedly suffered complications after a private neurological rehabilitation transfer to Switzerland.
Claire had handled paperwork because she was Rachel’s cousin and had been helping while Ethan traveled for business.
Rachel shook her head.
“I never went to Switzerland.”
Claire whispered:
“No.”
Ethan turned.
“Then where has she been?”
Rachel answered.
“St. Matthew’s.”
The same rehabilitation center on the envelopes.
She had spent eleven weeks there recovering from the car accident that injured her spine and affected her short-term memory.
Why had Ethan never known?
Because all his calls and emails had been redirected.
By whom?
Rachel pointed at Claire.
But then she added:
“She didn’t start it.”
The room went silent.
Claire looked sharply at her.
Rachel continued.
“The first person who told St. Matthew’s that Ethan was not allowed to contact me wasn’t Claire.”
Ethan stared.
“Who was it?”
Rachel’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know.”
Then Lily tugged Ethan’s sleeve and pointed toward the documents.
“There’s more.”
One envelope had not been opened.
Across the front:
ETHAN CARTER — PERSONAL.
DO NOT GIVE TO CLAIRE BENNETT.
May you like
The date was eleven weeks earlier.
Only three days after Rachel entered rehabilitation.
