Chapter 2 - The Echoes of the Past
The nights were the hardest. When the hospital lights dimmed to a soft, pulsing blue, the shadows in my room seemed to stretch and contort. I would lie there, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the memory to hit. I felt like a traveler searching for a landmark in a city that had been razed to the ground.
I started to write. Not just the name. I wrote descriptions of dreams: a window overlooking a frozen lake; a sound of a door locking from the outside; the smell of stale coffee and cedar.
On the third night, a woman slipped into my room. She wasn't a nurse. She wore a heavy coat, and her eyes were rimmed with red. She looked at me, then at the monitor, then at my face.
"You don't remember me," she whispered.
I squinted. The face was familiar—the sharp cheekbones, the slight curve of the nose. "Claire? My cousin?"
She moved closer, her voice barely audible over the hum of the IV pump. "Hannah, you have to listen to me. Evan hasn't been telling the truth about the cabin. It wasn't a getaway. It was a prison."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "What are you talking about?"
"He took your phone. He told everyone you were having a nervous breakdown, that you needed to be away from the children. I tried to come to the cabin, but he turned me away. He said you didn't want to see anyone."
"Why?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Why would he do that?"
"Because of the money," Claire said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a newspaper clipping, dated four months ago. It was an obituary for an investor, a man whose portfolio had been managed by Evan. "He was bankrupt, Hannah. Total ruin. And then, he inherited everything from his uncle—but there was a clause. The inheritance was tied to the well-being of his 'growing family.' If there was a divorce, if there was a scandal... he would have lost it all."
The pieces fell into place with a sickening thud. The pregnancy. The 'accident.' The move to the remote cabin.
"He needed a child," I whispered, the realization tasting like bile. "He needed me to be pregnant so he could keep the money."
"And when you were?" Claire asked, her eyes wide. "When you finally were?"
I gripped the side of the bed. "The car accident. It wasn't an accident, was it?"
Claire didn't answer. She looked toward the door. "He’s coming back. I have to go."
"Wait!" I grabbed her sleeve. "Where are Ella and Mason? Where are my children?"
"They’re safe," she promised. "With Mom. But you need to get out of this hospital, Hannah. You need to leave before he makes his next move."
As soon as she left, the door opened. Evan stood there, his face calm, his smile a thin, practiced line. He carried a bouquet of lilies—my favorite, but the sight of them made me want to retch.
"I spoke to the doctor," he said, setting the flowers on the table. "They’re discharging you tomorrow. We’re going home."
"I’m not going with you," I said, my voice steady.
Evan stopped. He didn't look angry. He looked disappointed, like a parent dealing with a petulant child. "Hannah, you’re confused. You’ve been through a lot. But you’re my wife. You belong with me."
"I belong to myself," I said. "And I know about the inheritance, Evan. I know about the cabin."
He didn't flinch. He walked over to the side of the bed and leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, menacing hiss. "You think you’re so clever, digging through the wreckage of your own mind. But you don't know the half of it. You were never just a wife to me. You were a vessel. And you failed me."
I reached for the call button, my fingers fumbling, but he grabbed my wrist. His grip was like steel.
May you like
"Don't," he whispered. "Or you’ll never see those kids again."
Downstairs, Rebecca Lin was feeding the baby. He was finally gaining weight, his tiny fists gripping the air as if he were trying to hold onto something solid. She looked at him and saw a survivor. She didn't know that three floors above, his mother was being held captive by the very man who had tried to erase them both.
