Chapter 4 - THE FIRST WIFEI didn’t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw a woman I had never met.
Caroline Mercer.
Pregnant.
Married to Ryan.
Dead.
At three in the morning, I finally asked Dad the question both of us had avoided.
“How did she die?”
He was sitting in a vinyl chair beside my hospital bed, still wearing uniform trousers but with his jacket folded over the back.
“Ellie.”
“Tell me.”
“We don’t know enough.”
“You know something.”
His silence confirmed it.
I sat higher.
The fetal monitor shifted.
Dad immediately reached for the nurse button.
“I’m fine.”
“You need rest.”
“I need the truth.”
He studied me.
Then he took out his phone.
“The detective sent me a public case summary.”
“And?”
“Caroline died after falling from a second-story balcony.”
My breathing stopped.
“The official finding was accidental death.”
“While she was pregnant?”
“She was twenty-seven weeks.”
I covered my mouth.
“The baby?”
Dad shook his head.
Neither survived.
I cried for a stranger.
Maybe because I understood exactly how alone she might have felt.
Maybe because somewhere inside me I knew she had once heard Ryan’s soft apologies too.
I’m sorry.
You made me angry.
I love you.
Nobody will ever understand us.
I stared toward the dark window.
“Did they suspect him?”
“Apparently neighbors heard an argument.”
“Then why wasn’t he charged?”
“No physical evidence. Ryan told police Caroline had been drinking.”
There it was again.
The same lie.
Drunk.
Unstable.
Emotional.
I felt suddenly sick.
“He did this before.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do.”
Dad leaned closer.
“We suspect. That is different.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
“I sound like someone who wants him convicted for what he actually did, not what we’re afraid he did.”
That was my father.
Even furious, he needed facts.
At six-thirty, Detective Daniels arrived with coffee and another woman.
“This is Detective Morales.”
Maria Morales was younger, maybe thirty-five, with dark hair pulled into a low ponytail.
She introduced herself and sat across from me.
“We’re reopening questions around Caroline Mercer’s death.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of several things.”
She opened a folder.
“May we speak with you?”
Dad stood.
“I’ll give you privacy.”
I grabbed his hand.
“Stay.”
He stayed.
Morales began gently.
“When did Ryan first become physically aggressive?”
I wanted to say recently.
Instead, I thought back.
Our honeymoon.
A hotel bathroom in Cabo.
An argument because I wanted to call my father.
Ryan punching the wall beside my head.
“That was five years ago.”
“What happened?”
I told her.
Then another memory.
He grabbed my arm during Christmas because I stayed too long talking to my cousin.
Another.
He smashed my laptop.
Another.
He locked me outside overnight.
Once the memories started, they would not stop.
I realized something horrible.
I had separated them into individual events because seeing them together would have forced me to name what was happening.
Morales wrote quietly.
“Did Ryan ever mention Caroline?”
“Never.”
“Did he talk about previous relationships?”
“He said an ex-girlfriend cheated on him.”
“Name?”
“No.”
Daniels looked at Morales.
“What?” I asked.
Morales answered.
“He told coworkers Caroline cheated.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
They showed me a photograph.
Caroline was beautiful.
Dark blond hair.
Blue eyes.
She stood beside Ryan at a Christmas party.
He looked younger but identical in every way that mattered.
His hand rested around her waist.
Possessive.
I knew that hand.
My eyes went to Caroline’s smile.
Something about it disturbed me.
Then I noticed.
A scarf.
Indoors.
High around her neck.
I had worn scarves like that.
Morales saw my reaction.
“Her sister gave us photographs this morning.”
“She has a sister?”
“Rebecca Shaw.”
“Does she know about me?”
“She does now.”
I handed the picture back.
“What did Ryan keep in the storage unit?”
Morales exchanged a glance with Daniels.
“Records.”
“What records?”
“Medical discharge documents belonging to Caroline. Your hospital paperwork. Photographs.”
“What kind?”
“Images of injuries.”
I stared.
“He photographed us?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“We’re investigating.”
Then Daniels said something that chilled me.
“There were folders.”
“Folders?”
“One labeled Caroline.”
I already knew the next sentence.
“One labeled Eleanor.”
Dad’s hand tightened.
“And?”
Morales hesitated.
“A third folder.”
I swallowed.
“What name?”
“Ashley.”
I didn’t know any Ashley.
But Dad did.
His face changed.
“Who is Ashley?”
He looked at me.
“Ryan’s assistant.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“I met her at the company holiday dinner.”
My chest tightened.
Twenty-six years old.
Red hair.
Soft voice.
I remembered her.
Ryan told me Ashley was obsessed with him.
He complained she texted too much.
Said he might have to fire her because she didn’t respect boundaries.
Morales asked, “When did you last see her?”
“December.”
“Ryan reported her missing in February.”
My heart stopped.
“He what?”
“He told police she quit without notice.”
“I never knew.”
“We found personal documents belonging to her in the storage unit.”
Dad stood.
“What documents?”
Morales looked at him.
“Passport copy. Medical insurance information. Photographs.”
“Is she alive?”
“We don’t know.”
The room became very cold.
Daniels leaned toward me.
“Eleanor, did Ryan ever take you to a cabin?”
My mind flashed instantly.
Lake Hartwell.
A small rental house surrounded by pine trees.
“He said it belonged to his company.”
“When?”
“Last fall.”
“Was Ashley there?”
“No.”
But then another memory surfaced.
A red scarf inside the bedroom closet.
I had asked Ryan about it.
He said the cleaning staff left it.
My pulse climbed.
“There was something.”
Morales took out her notebook.
“What?”
“A scarf.”
“What color?”
“Red.”
“Anything else?”
I closed my eyes.
The cabin.
Wood paneling.
A fireplace.
Ryan disappearing outside after midnight.
The locked shed.
“Ryan wouldn’t let me go near the shed.”
Both detectives became alert.
“What shed?”
“Behind the cabin.”
Morales stood.
“What’s the address?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you locate it?”
“Maybe.”
Dad handed me his phone.
I opened the map.
My fingers shook as I searched.
A road.
A lake.
A gas station I remembered.
“There.”
Morales photographed the screen.
Then the hospital door opened.
Dr. Meyers entered quickly.
“Everyone out except family.”
Something in her voice terrified me.
“What happened?”
She looked at the monitor.
“Lily’s heart rate dropped.”
My father went white.
“How bad?”
“It recovered, but we’re moving Eleanor to labor and delivery for continuous observation.”
“Am I having her now?”
“Not necessarily.”
Not necessarily.
Two of the worst words in the English language.
The detectives left immediately.
Nurses surrounded me.
Dad walked beside the bed as they rolled me down the hall.
I gripped his hand.
“Don’t leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
We reached the elevator.
His phone rang.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
“Answer it.”
“Ellie—”
“Answer.”
He did.
“Bennett.”
He listened.
His face drained of color.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Alive?”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
Dad looked stunned.
“The police reached the cabin.”
“And?”
“They opened the shed.”
My heart pounded.
“What was inside?”
He took my hand.
“A woman.”
My breath caught.
“Who?”
“They believe it’s Ashley.”
“Is she alive?”
Dad nodded.
“Yes.”
Relief hit so hard I sobbed.
Then Dad said the part that made my blood freeze.
“She told them Ryan had been keeping her there.”
I stared at him.
“For how long?”
“Seven months.”
Seven months.
While Ryan slept beside me.
While he kissed my stomach.
While he told everyone I was unstable.
May you like
My husband had been hiding another woman in a locked building beside a lake.
And Ashley had just told police she knew exactly what happened to Caroline.
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