Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Was Never Supposed To Return
A woman stepped out of the elevator and whispered: "Delia, you don’t remember me because they made sure you couldn’t."
Delia stared at the stranger holding an old photograph from her childhood.
But one detail on the woman’s necklace made Jesse step back: A small silver pendant shaped like a broken circle.
Three words were engraved inside: "Always find her."
Jesse realized the woman in front of them was the missing piece of a secret that had been hidden for years.
The hallway remained dark.
Only the emergency lights along the floor gave enough brightness for Delia to see faces.
Jesse stood in front of her.
Protecting her.
Again.
But this time, the danger was not a stranger with a weapon.
It was a woman holding a photograph.
A woman who looked at Delia like she was seeing someone who had been lost.
The woman slowly stepped forward.
"Delia."
Hearing her own name from someone she had never met felt wrong.
Not unfamiliar.
Wrong.
Like a forgotten song she somehow knew the melody of.
"Who are you?"
The woman’s eyes filled with emotion.
"My name is Clara."
Delia looked at Jesse.
He was still frozen.
That scared her more than anything.
Jesse had reacted instantly to danger.
He had controlled entire rooms with a single sentence.
But this woman had made him speechless.
"Jesse."
He finally moved.
His voice was low.
"You’re supposed to be dead."
The woman looked at him.
"I know."
Silence.
Delia felt her chest tighten.
She looked between them.
"Dead?"
Nobody answered.
She laughed once.
A nervous, confused sound.
"Okay."
She shook her head.
"I’m sorry, but I think I deserve to know why my fake boyfriend just told a woman she’s supposed to be dead."
Clara looked at Jesse.
Then at Delia.
"He didn’t tell you."
It wasn’t a question.
It was a realization.
Delia’s expression hardened.
"Tell me what?"
Jesse closed his eyes briefly.
Because there was no way around it anymore.
"Delia."
"No."
She stepped away.
"Every time you say my name, something terrible happens."
Jesse looked at her.
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what?"
He didn’t answer.
"Exactly."
The hallway felt smaller.
Clara watched them silently.
Then she said:
"He wasn’t the only one protecting you."
Delia turned.
"What does that mean?"
Clara held the envelope tighter.
"It means you were never abandoned."
The words hit harder than expected.
Because that was the one thing Delia had always believed.
That people left.
That people chose easier things.
That people eventually decided she was too much.
Too emotional.
Too complicated.
Too difficult to keep.
"What are you talking about?"
Clara looked down.
"When you were five years old, someone tried to erase your entire identity."
Delia’s face changed.
"My identity?"
Jesse stepped closer.
"Clara."
"No."
Clara looked at him.
"She deserves the truth."
Jesse went quiet.
Delia noticed.
That was another strange thing.
Everyone around Jesse obeyed him.
But Clara didn’t.
She spoke to him like he was just another person.
Not a boss.
Not someone powerful.
Just Jesse.
"I found you because of your mother."
Delia froze.
"My mother?"
She barely remembered her.
Most memories were blurred.
A voice.
A perfume.
A hand holding hers.
That was all.
"My mother is dead."
Clara looked at her sadly.
"That’s what they wanted you to believe."
The air disappeared from Delia’s lungs.
"No."
She shook her head.
"No, my mother died when I was young."
"That’s the story you were given."
"By who?"
Clara looked at Jesse.
And Delia followed her eyes.
Her stomach dropped.
"No."
Jesse immediately said:
"Delia, listen—"
"No."
Her voice cracked.
"You knew."
He didn’t deny it.
That hurt more.
"You knew something about my mother."
"I knew there were questions."
"You knew."
Jesse looked away.
And that was enough.
Delia stepped back.
All night she had believed Jesse was the one person who was honest with her.
Now she wondered if every conversation had been another performance.
"Was any of tonight real?"
The question was quiet.
But Jesse reacted like she had shouted.
"Yes."
"How much?"
"All of it."
She looked at him.
"Even pretending?"
A painful silence followed.
Jesse had no answer.
Because the truth was complicated.
He had arrived pretending.
But somewhere between the first conversation and the moment he held her hand, something changed.
Something he never expected.
Clara opened the envelope.
Inside was a folded letter.
She handed it to Delia.
"Your mother wrote this."
Delia stared.
The handwriting looked unfamiliar.
But something about it made her fingers shake.
She opened the letter.
Only one sentence was visible.
"If you are reading this, it means they failed to keep you hidden."
Her breathing stopped.
Jesse watched her carefully.
"Delia."
She continued reading.
"My daughter, I need you to know one thing."
The paper trembled.
"You were never the reason I disappeared."
Her eyes filled.
She had spent years wondering.
Wondering if she had been the problem.
If she had been too young.
Too difficult.
Too much.
Clara stepped closer.
"Your mother spent years trying to protect you."
"From who?"
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Jesse said:
"From people who believed your family had something they wanted."
Delia looked up.
"What did my family have?"
Jesse looked at the photograph.
"The truth."
She almost laughed.
"The truth?"
A bitter smile appeared.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
She looked at him.
"But nobody tells me what it is."
Jesse took a breath.
"The woman in the photograph was your mother."
Delia looked at Clara.
"And you?"
Clara hesitated.
"I was her closest friend."
"Then why did I never know you?"
Clara looked away.
"Because after your mother disappeared, I was told to stay away."
"By who?"
The question hung in the air.
Then Jesse’s phone rang.
Everyone looked at it.
The screen showed a number.
No name.
No location.
Just a call.
Jesse answered.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then his face changed.
"Where?"
A pause.
"Are you sure?"
Another pause.
Delia watched him carefully.
The confidence disappeared.
The control disappeared.
Whatever he was hearing had shaken him.
He ended the call.
"What happened?"
Jesse looked at Clara.
Then at Delia.
"They found the person who started this."
"Who?"
Jesse didn’t answer.
That was becoming the most frightening thing about him.
Not the secrets.
The moments when he looked like he was trying to protect her from the answer.
"Jesse."
He finally spoke.
"The person who erased your past."
Delia felt cold.
"Who is it?"
Jesse reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a file.
Old.
Damaged.
With a name written across the front.
A name Delia had never seen before.
But Clara immediately recognized it.
Her face went pale.
"No."
Jesse looked at the file.
Then slowly opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A man standing beside Delia’s mother.
A man smiling.
A man Delia had never met.
But Jesse knew him.
Everyone did.
Because written beneath the photograph was a message.
"She was never taken."
Jesse turned the page.
His hand stopped.
May you like
And on the next line was the name that made Clara whisper in horror:
"Grant Avery..."
