Chapter 4 - The Woman Behind The Door
"Adrian..."
The voice echoed through the darkness.
For three years, Adrian Black had imagined hearing that voice again.
In dreams.
In memories.
In the quiet moments when Leo was asleep and the house felt too empty.
But never like this.
Never real.
Never standing in front of him.
The restaurant remained completely silent.
Adrian didn't move.
He couldn't.
His mind rejected what his ears had just heard.
Because the voice belonged to only one person.
A person who was dead.
Emma grabbed Leo and pulled him closer.
The little boy buried his face against her.
Even Leo knew something was wrong.
Adrian slowly raised his hand.
"Who is there?"
No answer.
Only darkness.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Careful.
Coming closer.
Adrian's bodyguards were not there.
His phone was useless.
The lights were still off.
But none of that mattered.
Because if someone had managed to enter this restaurant unnoticed, they weren't an ordinary enemy.
The figure stopped near the doorway.
A woman's silhouette appeared.
Adrian's breathing stopped.
The shape.
The height.
The way she stood.
It was too familiar.
"Isabella?"
The name left his mouth before he could stop himself.
The woman didn't answer.
Then the lights suddenly returned.
Adrian saw her face.
And the world changed.
It wasn't Isabella.
But it was someone who looked like her.
Same dark eyes.
Same expression.
Same sadness.
Emma gasped.
"No..."
The woman looked at her.
"Emma."
Emma stepped back.
Her face turned pale.
"You..."
Adrian looked between them.
"You know her?"
The woman didn't look at him.
She only stared at Emma.
"I told you never to come near him."
Emma's eyes filled with fear.
"I didn't know."
The woman smiled sadly.
"That was the problem."
Adrian stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
The woman finally looked at him.
"My name is Clara Carter."
The name meant nothing.
But the way Emma reacted meant everything.
Adrian turned toward her.
"Who is she?"
Emma didn't speak.
Clara answered.
"I'm her mother."
The room went silent.
Adrian stared.
Impossible.
Emma had said her mother was dead.
She had said Isabella raised her after losing her family.
But now a woman was standing in front of him claiming to be Emma's mother.
Adrian's eyes became cold.
"Three years."
Clara looked at him.
"You've been alive for three years."
Adrian's voice lowered.
"You knew about Isabella."
Clara didn't deny it.
"Yes."
"You knew she was afraid."
"Yes."
"You knew someone was trying to hurt her."
A pause.
"Yes."
Every answer made Adrian's anger grow.
He stepped closer.
"Then why did you let me bury my wife?"
Clara looked away.
Because that question hurt.
"Because Isabella asked me to."
Adrian froze.
"No."
"She knew what would happen if you searched."
"Don't use her name to justify this."
Clara looked at him.
"You think you lost her the night she died."
Her voice became softer.
"You didn't."
Adrian said nothing.
"You lost her months before that."
The words cut deeper.
Because part of him had felt it.
The distance.
The secrets.
The late nights.
The phone calls Isabella never explained.
He remembered.
He just never wanted to admit it.
Emma stepped forward.
"Mom..."
Clara looked at her.
"You broke the promise."
Emma lowered her eyes.
"I couldn't leave him alone."
"That wasn't your choice."
"It became my choice when Leo needed me."
Clara looked at Leo.
The little boy was watching her carefully.
Then she whispered:
"He looks exactly like Isabella."
Adrian noticed something.
Clara was crying.
Not pretending.
Not manipulating.
Real tears.
For the first time, he wondered if maybe she wasn't his enemy.
Maybe she was someone else who had lost Isabella.
"Tell me the truth."
Clara looked at him.
"About what?"
"Everything."
The woman took a deep breath.
"Isabella discovered something."
"What?"
"Someone inside your organization was moving money."
Adrian's expression changed.
"Impossible."
Clara shook her head.
"That was what she thought too."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Adrian stared.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I watched my sister die because I tried to find out."
Silence.
Adrian stopped.
"Your sister?"
Clara looked at him.
"Isabella was my sister."
Adrian looked confused.
"But Emma said..."
"Emma was protecting the secret."
Clara walked toward the table.
She picked up Isabella's letter.
"Isabella knew someone would eventually find this."
She opened the folded paper.
"There was supposed to be another page."
Adrian frowned.
"Another page?"
Clara nodded.
"She wrote two letters."
"Where is the second one?"
Clara looked toward the floor.
"Hidden somewhere only Leo could find."
Adrian immediately looked at his son.
Leo was holding something.
A small piece of paper.
Emma noticed.
"Leo?"
The boy looked down.
"I found it in Mommy's box."
Adrian walked toward him.
"What box?"
Leo pointed.
"At home."
Adrian froze.
"What box?"
The boy whispered:
"The one Mommy told me never to open."
Everyone became silent.
Adrian crouched.
"Where is it?"
Leo looked scared.
"Under the floor."
Adrian looked at Emma.
She looked just as shocked.
"I didn't know about that."
Clara closed her eyes.
"She hid it well."
Adrian stood.
"Take me there."
Clara looked at him.
"No."
The answer surprised him.
"No?"
"You can't go back to your house."
Adrian's expression hardened.
"My son lives there."
"Exactly."
She stepped closer.
"Someone already knows you found the letter."
Adrian looked at her.
"What are you saying?"
Clara's voice dropped.
"I'm saying your house is no longer safe."
At that moment, Adrian's phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
He opened it.
One photo.
His house.
Taken from outside.
His blood turned cold.
Because the picture showed Leo's bedroom window.
And beneath it was a message:
"YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE PAST BURIED."
Adrian immediately looked toward Leo.
The boy was gone.
His heart stopped.
"Where is my son?"
Everyone turned.
Emma looked around.
"Leo?"
No answer.
The restaurant door was open.
A cold silence filled the room.
Adrian ran.
The hallway was empty.
Then he saw it.
A small toy car lying on the floor.
Leo's favorite toy.
Beside it was a piece of paper.
Adrian picked it up.
Three words were written.
"Come find me."
May you like
And underneath...
was Isabella's handwriting.
