Chapter 7
The kiss is everything I remembered and more.
Soft, gentle, full of all the love and pain and longing of the last seven years. When we pull apart, Ethan rests his forehead against mine, our breathing ragged.
"I've wanted to do that for seven years," he whispers.
"Me too," I admit.
We sit there for a long time, holding each other, watching the stars. For the first time in my life, I feel like everything is going to be okay.
But the peace doesn't last.
The next morning, I wake up to the sound of Lily screaming.
I jump out of bed, my heart pounding, and run to her room. Ethan is right behind me.
Lily is standing by the window, pointing outside, her face white with fear.
"There's a car!" she cries. "A black car! It's parked by the trees!"
Ethan and I rush to the window.
My blood runs cold.
Parked at the edge of the tree line, partially hidden by foliage, is a black SUV. I'd recognize that car anywhere.
Victoria.
"Stay here," Ethan says, his voice tight. He grabs his phone and runs downstairs.
I hold Lily close, my hands shaking. How did she find us? How did she know where we were?
Ethan comes back a few minutes later, his face grim.
"She's gone," he says. "But she left something."
He holds out an envelope.
My hands shake as I take it. I open it carefully, pulling out a single sheet of paper.
Written in Victoria's elegant handwriting are just a few words:
You can run, but you can't hide. I'll find you. I always do.
The paper falls from my hands.
"She's insane," I whisper. "She's actually insane."
Ethan pulls me and Lily close, his arms protective.
"I'm calling the police," he says. "And I'm hiring a private investigator. We need to find out what she's planning before she does something we can't fix."
The police come that afternoon, but again, there's not much they can do. Victoria didn't break any laws by driving up to the cabin and leaving a note. They promise to keep an eye on the area, but I know it's not enough.
That night, after Lily is asleep, Ethan and I sit at the kitchen table, going through old papers and documents, looking for anything that might help us build our case against Victoria.
"Wait," I say, picking up an old photo album. "What's this?"
I open it, and my breath catches.
It's filled with photos of me. Photos from the café where I worked. Photos of me walking down the street. Photos of me in my apartment.
Photos taken without my knowledge.
"Ethan," I say, my voice trembling. "Look at this."
He looks over my shoulder, and his face goes pale.
"These are from before Lily was born," I say, flipping through the pages. "She was watching me. Even back then."
The album is filled with dozens of photos, each one more disturbing than the last. The last page has a photo of me holding newborn Lily, taken through the window of my hospital room.
Written below it in Victoria's handwriting:
She'll be mine soon.
I feel sick.
"She was obsessed," Ethan says, his voice tight with anger. "She planned all of this. For months. Maybe even years."
We find more as we keep looking.
Old emails that Victoria forged, making it look like I never wanted anything to do with Ethan or the baby. Bank records showing she paid someone to fake my death certificate. A contract with a private investigator, dated seven years ago, instructing him to "make sure Elena never returns."
"This is it," Ethan says, gathering the evidence. "This is everything we need. This proves she planned everything. That she kidnapped Lily. That she faked your death."
He looks at me, his eyes fierce.
"We're going to destroy her, Elena. She's never going to hurt us again."
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But even as he says the words, I can't shake the feeling that Victoria is still out there, watching, waiting, planning her next move.
And I know, deep in my heart, that this is far from over.
