Chapter 4 - The Birthday Table Without My Daughter
I ran toward the front door barefoot.
“Nia!”
No answer.
The rain blew through the open doorway.
The paper crown lay upside down on the stone floor, one of its silver edges bent.
I stopped.
For one terrible second, my mind refused to understand what I was seeing.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
Ethan.
“Where is she?”
I turned on him.
“You tell me!”
His face changed.
He looked past me toward the open door.
Thomas came into the hallway seconds later.
“What happened?”
“My daughter is gone.”
Thomas immediately looked toward the driveway.
“Did anyone see a car?”
“No.”
Ethan pulled out his phone.
“Nobody leaves this property.”
I grabbed his arm.
“What does that mean?”
“I have security cameras.”
“Then use them!”
He was already calling someone.
“Lock the gates. Now.”
A voice answered through the speaker.
“Mr. Reeves—”
“My daughter is missing.”
There was silence.
Then:
“Yes, sir.”
Ethan turned toward the security panel beside the entryway.
His fingers moved quickly across the screen.
Four camera feeds appeared.
Driveway.
Side gate.
Front entrance.
Back garden.
I searched every image.
Nothing.
No car.
No person.
No Nia.
Then I noticed the fourth screen.
The back garden gate was open.
My heart dropped.
“She went outside.”
Ethan shook his head.
“Nia wouldn't.”
“She might have followed someone.”
Thomas stepped closer.
“Look at the time.”
Ethan enlarged the camera feed.
The timestamp showed 4:19 p.m.
I remembered the message.
YOUR DAUGHTER WILL DISAPPEAR AGAIN.
Again.
That word burned into my mind.
I looked at Thomas.
“What does that mean?”
He didn't answer.
I grabbed his coat.
“What does ‘again’ mean?”
“Sarah—”
“No!”
My voice broke.
“You knew something happened to her before.”
Thomas looked at Ethan.
Ethan looked away.
I released Thomas.
“You both knew.”
Neither denied it.
I felt sick.
“What happened to my daughter three years ago?”
Thomas spoke quietly.
“Someone tried to take her.”
“You said that.”
“I'm telling you something different now.”
“What?”
“She wasn't taken from the hospital.”
I stared at him.
“Then what?”
“She disappeared from the nursery.”
My heart stopped.
“For how long?”
“Eleven minutes.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Eleven minutes?”
“Yes.”
“Who found her?”
Thomas looked at Ethan.
“I did.”
I stepped closer.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“An empty service corridor near the maternity wing.”
I closed my eyes.
For four years, I had remembered Nia's birth differently.
I remembered waking up.
I remembered the nurse smiling.
I remembered being handed my baby.
I remembered thinking everything was finally safe.
But I had never known that before that moment, my daughter had been missing.
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because you had lost too much blood.”
Thomas's voice softened.
“The doctors were afraid the shock could kill you.”
“That doesn't explain four years of silence.”
“No.”
“Who ordered the silence?”
Thomas didn't answer.
Ethan did.
“My father.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because he believed the people behind it were still watching.”
I turned toward the security screens.
“Were they?”
Thomas nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you let me work here?”
Ethan's eyes met mine.
“Because I thought the danger was gone.”
“You thought?”
“I was wrong.”
The word hung between us.
Then the security alarm sounded.
All four camera screens went black.
I froze.
“What happened?”
Ethan grabbed the security tablet.
“No signal.”
Thomas pulled out his phone.
“Someone cut the exterior feed.”
“How?”
“Remote access.”
Ethan looked at him.
“That system isn't connected externally.”
Thomas's face changed.
“It is now.”
The front door slammed shut.
I jumped.
Ethan moved toward me.
“Stay behind me.”
“No.”
“Sarah.”
“My daughter is somewhere outside.”
“I know.”
“I am going after her.”
Thomas stepped between us.
“You don't know where to look.”
“Then tell me.”
He hesitated.
I could see something in his eyes.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
“There was a place Richard used.”
“What place?”
“A storage property outside the city.”
“Where?”
Thomas pulled out his phone.
Before he could answer, a notification appeared.
A photograph.
I stared at the screen.
It was Nia.
She was sitting in the back seat of a car.
Her paper crown was still on her head.
Her cheeks were wet.
She wasn't crying.
She was looking directly at the camera.
My body went numb.
“Nia.”
The photograph had been taken only moments earlier.
I could tell because she was still wearing the same dress.
I grabbed the phone.
“Where is she?”
A location appeared beneath the photograph.
BOSTON MERCY MEDICAL CENTER.
My heart stopped.
“No.”
Thomas looked at the image.
“They took her back to the hospital.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
“Why?”
Thomas didn't answer.
I looked at him.
“Why would they take her there?”
“Because that's where this began.”
I shook my head.
“We're going.”
Ethan reached for his keys.
Thomas stopped him.
“Not through the front entrance.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever took Nia wants us to go there.”
Ethan stared at him.
“What are you saying?”
Thomas pointed to the photograph.
“Look at the window.”
I zoomed in.
The reflection in the glass showed a red brick building.
A street sign.
And a number.
317.
I looked at Ethan.
“That's not the hospital.”
“No.”
Thomas nodded.
“It's the old medical records annex.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why would Nia be there?”
Thomas looked at the hospital bracelet in my hand.
“Because somebody wants you to find something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why are we standing here?”
I ran toward the garage.
Ethan followed.
Thomas was right behind us.
The garage door opened.
Ethan's black SUV waited inside.
I climbed into the passenger seat before he could say anything.
Thomas got into the back.
Ethan started the engine.
The gates opened.
Rain hammered the windshield.
I held the hospital bracelet in both hands.
I couldn't stop thinking about the message.
ASK ETHAN WHO WAS HOLDING THE BABY.
I looked at him.
“Was it you?”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“No.”
“Then who?”
He didn't answer.
“Ethan.”
“I don't know.”
Thomas spoke from the back.
“I do.”
Ethan's eyes flashed toward the rearview mirror.
“Thomas.”
“I saw him.”
“Who?”
Thomas looked at me.
“The man holding Nia wasn't Daniel.”
I waited.
“Then who was it?”
Thomas swallowed.
“Someone from Richard's security team.”
“His name?”
Thomas looked out the window.
“I never knew it.”
“That isn't possible.”
“I knew his face.”
“Then describe him.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Tall. Dark hair. Small scar under his right eye.”
My stomach dropped.
I knew that scar.
I had seen it before.
Not in the hospital.
Not in a photograph.
In the hallway of Ethan's townhouse.
Three months ago.
A man had come to repair the security system.
Ethan had introduced him as a contractor.
I remembered him because Nia had hidden behind my legs when he entered.
He had smiled at her.
And she had whispered:
“Mommy, I don't like him.”
I had dismissed it as a child's fear of strangers.
Now I remembered his name.
“Marcus.”
Ethan looked at me.
“What?”
“His name was Marcus.”
Thomas leaned forward.
“Marcus what?”
“I don't know.”
Ethan's face went pale.
“I do.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
“Marcus Hale.”
Thomas went silent.
“That's impossible,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because Marcus Hale died three years ago.”
My heart pounded.
“He was at my house three months ago.”
Thomas stared at me.
“Then it wasn't Marcus Hale.”
The SUV went silent.
Rain blurred the city lights.
I looked at Ethan.
“Who was it?”
He didn't answer.
His phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Then a child's voice came through.
“Mommy?”
My heart shattered.
“Nia!”
I grabbed the phone.
“Nia, baby, where are you?”
There was a pause.
Then my daughter's small voice whispered:
“Mommy, don't come inside.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you see?”
Silence.
“Nia?”
Then another voice came through.
A man's voice.
Calm.
Close.
“Hello, Sarah.”
I froze.
Ethan stepped on the accelerator.
The man continued.
“You've been looking for answers.”
My hand shook.
“Where is my daughter?”
“You already know where she is.”
“Let her go.”
A quiet laugh.
“That's not why I brought her here.”
“Then why?”
The line went silent.
Then the man whispered:
“Because Ethan deserves to know who his real father was.”
The call ended.
Ethan stared straight ahead.
Thomas suddenly leaned forward.
“Stop the car.”
Ethan ignored him.
“Stop the car!”
“Why?”
Thomas pointed through the windshield.
The old Boston Mercy records annex stood ahead.
Its doors were open.
Every light inside was on.
May you like
And above the entrance, someone had written a single word in black paint:
WELCOME.
