Chapter 11 - The Woman I Buried
She entered the house twenty minutes later.
Sophie saw her first.
She screamed.
“Mommy!”
My wife collapsed to her knees.
Sophie ran into her arms.
For four years, my daughter had believed her mother was gone.
Now they were holding each other.
Caleb stared.
Noah stood frozen.
I couldn't move.
My wife looked at me.
“Evan.”
I wanted to hate her.
I wanted to demand answers.
Instead, I crossed the room.
She cried against my chest.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I had to make you believe it.”
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“You let our children grow up without you.”
“I know.”
My voice broke.
“Why?”
She looked at the children.
“Because Richard threatened to kill all three.”
I closed my eyes.
She continued.
“Vanessa helped him.”
I knew.
But then she said:
“She wasn't the mastermind.”
“Who was?”
My wife looked at me.
“Your father.”
“He's dead.”
“He isn't.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
She nodded.
“Your father staged his death.”
My blood ran cold.
“Where is he?”
She looked toward the window.
“Coming.”
A gunshot shattered the glass.
My wife screamed.
Everyone dropped.
Another shot.
Then another.
Security rushed in.
I pulled the children behind the kitchen island.
Outside, vehicles were moving toward the house.
Dozens.
My wife grabbed my arm.
“They're here for Emma.”
I stared at her.
“Where is Emma?”
She whispered:
“I left her with your father.”
I couldn't breathe.
Then my phone rang.
An unknown voice said:
“You wanted your family back.”
A pause.
May you like
“Come get them.”
Then the call ended.
