Chapter 2 - The Empty Apartment
Clara slept for eleven hours.
The doctor said exhaustion and dehydration had left her dangerously weak, but thankfully the baby appeared healthy.
I stood outside the guest bedroom while Dr. Bennett examined her.
When he finally came out, I stopped him.
“How bad?”
“She needs food, fluids, rest, and absolutely no unnecessary stress.”
I looked through the partially open door.
Clara was asleep.
Her face looked peaceful for the first time.
“Is the baby okay?”
“Yes.”
I exhaled.
The relief was immediate.
“Then why did she look like she hadn't eaten in days?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Because she probably hadn't been eating properly.”
My jaw tightened.
“She's seven months pregnant.”
“I noticed.”
“Who does that to someone?”
The doctor looked at me.
“That's what you need to find out.”
He left.
I walked into the bedroom.
Clara was awake.
“You heard?”
“Yes.”
“You're staying here.”
She looked around.
“This room?”
“For now.”
“I can't stay.”
“You can.”
“I don't belong here.”
I sat in the chair beside the bed.
“You belonged here before.”
“Before you divorced me.”
“I didn't divorce you.”
Her eyes hardened.
“You signed the papers.”
“So did you.”
“Because I thought you wanted me gone.”
I stared at her.
“I never said that.”
“You didn't have to.”
“What does that mean?”
She looked away.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered:
“Your mother told me.”
My chest tightened.
“My mother told you what?”
“That you wanted a divorce.”
I stood.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“Where?”
“Your house.”
I felt a cold anger rise through me.
“My mother came to you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Clara's eyes filled with tears.
“She said you were seeing someone else.”
I froze.
“I wasn't.”
“She showed me photographs.”
“What photographs?”
“Of you with another woman.”
I stared at her.
“There was no other woman.”
“She told me you were embarrassed by me.”
“Clara…”
“She told me I'd trapped you into marrying me.”
My hands curled into fists.
“That never happened.”
“I know that now.”
“Why didn't you ask me?”
She laughed bitterly.
“I tried.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“The night I left.”
I remembered that night.
Clara had stood in our bedroom with a suitcase.
She'd cried.
I'd assumed she was angry.
I had been angry too.
I had told her if she wanted to leave, then leave.
The next morning, her side of the closet was empty.
I had never known she'd tried to talk.
I had never known someone else had already poisoned the conversation.
“Where did you go?”
“New York.”
“With who?”
“Alone.”
“And the baby?”
Clara placed a hand over her stomach.
“I found out later.”
I stared at her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought you didn't want me.”
“Clara, if I'd known you were pregnant—”
“You would have done what?”
I had no answer.
She looked away.
“Exactly.”
The room became silent.
Then Victor knocked.
I stepped outside.
“What?”
“We found something.”
He handed me a folder.
“Three years ago, Clara rented an apartment in Chicago under a different name.”
“Why?”
“Because someone was paying the rent.”
“Who?”
“Your family trust.”
I stared at the document.
My family had been financially supporting Clara.
While she believed I'd abandoned her.
“That's impossible.”
Victor shook his head.
“The payments continued for eighteen months.”
“Then stopped?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The exact week Clara left the apartment.”
I looked at the dates.
Something wasn't right.
“Find out who authorized them.”
Victor nodded.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“We found Clara's old apartment.”
“Empty?”
“Yes.”
“Then why does that matter?”
Victor handed me another photograph.
It showed the apartment door.
Across it, someone had written:
HE WILL NEVER COME BACK FOR YOU.
My stomach turned.
Someone had been controlling Clara's life from the shadows.
And they'd been doing it for years.
I went back into the bedroom.
Clara was sitting upright.
“Adrian?”
I looked at her.
“Did anyone ever tell you why your rent suddenly stopped?”
She shook her head.
“Did anyone ever send you money?”
“Sometimes.”
“From my family trust.”
Her face changed.
“What?”
I showed her the document.
She stared at it.
“I thought it was government assistance.”
I felt something inside me break.
Someone had taken care of her just enough to keep her alive.
Then deliberately cut her off.
“Clara,” I said quietly, “who knew where you lived?”
She thought.
“My landlord.”
“Anyone else?”
She swallowed.
“One person.”
“Who?”
May you like
Her voice became barely audible.
“Your mother.”
