Chapter 3 - The Secret Hidden Inside My Home
The bedroom door moved slowly.
Not opened.
Moved.
Like someone on the other side was taking their time.
I couldn't breathe.
My entire body froze as I held Noah against my chest.
Adrian Cross stood in front of me, no longer looking like the untouchable man from the news.
He looked alert.
Dangerous.
Ready.
His eyes locked on the opening door.
"Stay behind me," he whispered.
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because nothing about my life made sense anymore.
A few minutes ago, I was a tired mother worried about buying formula.
Now a mafia boss was standing inside my apartment, telling me to hide because someone had broken in.
I didn't know which part scared me more.
The person inside my home.
Or the fact that I trusted Adrian enough to listen.
The bedroom door opened another inch.
Adrian raised one hand.
The two men standing outside immediately moved.
They entered silently.
No shouting.
No panic.
They moved like they had done this before.
Like danger was something they understood.
I held Noah tighter.
"Adrian," I whispered.
He looked back at me.
"Did you know someone was inside?"
"No."
"Then why did you tell me not to move?"
His expression hardened.
"Because whoever took that picture wanted me to know they were here."
The words made my stomach drop.
"They took the picture?"
He nodded.
"They didn't break in to steal."
"How do you know?"
"Because nothing is missing."
I looked around.
My small apartment.
My cheap furniture.
The toys on the floor.
The empty formula container on the table.
Nothing looked different.
But suddenly everything felt wrong.
Like my home had become a place I didn't recognize.
One of Adrian's men returned from the bedroom.
"Nobody there."
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"Check again."
The man disappeared.
I looked at Adrian.
"How do you know they were here?"
He didn't answer immediately.
That scared me.
Because until now, he always had an answer.
"You know something."
His eyes met mine.
"Yes."
"What?"
"Your husband."
The anger came back instantly.
"Don't."
"I know you don't want to hear it."
"You don't know anything about what I want."
"No."
He looked at Noah.
"But I know what happens when people disappear."
His voice became quieter.
"Usually, someone benefits."
I looked away.
I hated that his words sounded possible.
For three months, I had forced myself to believe my husband leaving was simple.
That he was selfish.
That he was weak.
That he abandoned us because it was easier.
Because accepting anything else meant admitting I never really knew him.
Adrian reached into his coat and pulled out the folded document again.
This time, he placed it on the table.
"I found this."
I didn't touch it.
"What is it?"
"Your husband's financial records."
My eyebrows tightened.
"I don't care about his money."
"You should."
"Why?"
"Because he wasn't broke when he disappeared."
Silence.
I stared at him.
"What?"
Adrian opened the folder.
Inside were printed documents.
Bank transfers.
Account numbers.
Dates.
I didn't understand most of it.
But one number caught my attention.
A transfer.
A large amount of money.
Sent three days before he disappeared.
"That can't be right."
"It is."
"No."
My voice became louder.
"My husband didn't have that kind of money."
Adrian looked at me.
"Exactly."
The room went quiet.
I looked at the papers again.
"Where did it come from?"
Adrian didn't answer.
Instead, he showed me another page.
A company name.
A company I didn't recognize.
But Adrian clearly did.
His expression changed the moment he saw it.
"What?"
I looked between him and the paper.
"What is it?"
Adrian closed the folder.
"Nothing."
I immediately knew he was lying.
"You're lying."
He didn't deny it.
That scared me more.
"Tell me."
"Not yet."
I laughed bitterly.
"Not yet?"
I looked around my apartment.
"Someone entered my home. Someone took pictures of my child. You know something about my missing husband. And you're telling me not yet?"
Adrian stayed calm.
But his eyes changed.
"You are angry."
"Yes."
"Good."
I frowned.
"Good?"
"Anger keeps people alive."
I hated that part of me understood him.
Then Noah started crying.
The tension broke.
I looked down at my son.
Immediately, my anger disappeared.
Because no matter what happened, he was still the only thing that mattered.
Adrian noticed.
His expression softened slightly.
"You should feed him."
I looked at the formula bag he brought.
For a second, I forgot everything else.
I almost cried.
Not because of the formula.
Because someone had noticed I was struggling.
Someone had seen me.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
Adrian nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
This time, his face changed instantly.
"What?"
He listened.
The color slowly disappeared from his face.
"Are you certain?"
A pause.
Then:
"Do not let anyone leave."
He ended the call.
I watched him carefully.
"What happened?"
Adrian looked at me.
"Someone accessed my private database."
I didn't understand.
"Why does that matter?"
"Because the only information they searched for was your name."
My heart stopped.
"My name?"
He nodded.
"Your full name."
A cold feeling spread through my body.
"Who would want information about me?"
Adrian didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Or because he didn't want to tell me.
"Adrian."
He looked away.
And that was when I realized something.
The most powerful man I had ever met was afraid.
Not for himself.
For me.
"Tell me the truth."
He stayed silent.
Then he finally said:
"Your husband wasn't hiding from you."
My throat tightened.
"Then who was he hiding from?"
Adrian looked at the closed bedroom door.
"The same person who is watching you now."
I felt tears forming.
"No."
He stepped closer.
"Listen carefully."
His voice became serious.
"If anyone contacts you tonight, you don't answer."
"Why?"
"Because they may know things only your husband knew."
I stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
Before Adrian could answer, his phone buzzed again.
A message.
He looked at it.
Then his entire expression changed.
I had never seen him look that shocked before.
"What?"
He didn't respond.
"Adrian, what is it?"
Slowly, he turned the phone toward me.
The message was from an unknown number.
One sentence.
"Tell Savannah the truth about what happened the night Noah was born."
My hands went cold.
Because there was one thing I had never told anyone.
Not Adrian.
Not my friends.
Not even my husband.
The night Noah was born, something happened.
Something I had spent three months trying to forget.
I looked at Adrian.
"How do they know about that?"
For the first time, he had no answer.
Then another message arrived.
A photo.
Adrian opened it.
His face changed.
I stepped closer.
And when I saw the picture, my knees almost gave out.
It was taken inside the hospital room on the night Noah was born.
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And standing beside my bed was someone who wasn't supposed to be there.
Someone who was supposed to be dead...
