Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Was Supposed To Be Gone
The voice on the phone repeated my name.
"Evelyn..."
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
Because after six years of silence, after six years of believing that person no longer existed, I knew exactly who was calling me.
I knew her voice.
I knew the slight hesitation before every sentence.
I knew the way she lowered her tone whenever she was afraid someone was listening.
"Who is this?" I whispered.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then she answered.
"You already know."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"No."
The word came out faster than I expected.
"No, you can't be."
A soft breath came through the speaker.
"I watched you disappear."
My heart stopped.
The restaurant around me became blurry.
The employees moving through the kitchen.
The sound of dishes.
The voices of customers.
Everything faded.
Because there were only two people in the world who knew what happened that night.
Me.
And her.
"Where are you?" I asked.
Another silence.
Then:
"Far enough away that Roman can't hear me."
My eyes moved toward the dining room.
Roman Vale was still there.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
And suddenly I understood something.
This wasn't about him discovering me.
Someone had wanted him to discover me.
The photograph.
The envelope.
The message.
None of it was random.
Someone was pushing us together.
"Why are you contacting me now?" I asked.
The woman's voice became softer.
"Because he found you."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"You know who."
I looked through the kitchen doorway.
Roman stood beside my manager.
His expression was calm.
But his eyes were not.
He looked like a man searching through a locked room in his own mind.
"I need answers," I whispered.
"You won't like them."
"I haven't liked anything about the last six years."
The woman didn't respond.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said something that made my fingers go numb.
"Roman doesn't know what happened to his sister."
I froze.
His sister.
The words from the phone.
The words from the past.
The reason I had buried everything.
"Don't say her name."
"Why?"
"Because some names bring people back."
Her breathing changed.
Like she was crying.
But trying not to.
"Evelyn..."
I closed my eyes.
Nobody had called me that in years.
Not the fake name.
Not the waitress identity.
My real name.
The name connected to everything I lost.
"Tell me the truth," I said.
"You don't want the truth."
"I deserve it."
"No."
Her answer was immediate.
"You survived it."
I hated that sentence.
Because it sounded like pity.
And I didn't need pity.
I needed the missing pieces.
"I am done running."
The woman stayed quiet.
Then she whispered:
"Then go to Roman."
I frowned.
"What?"
"Ask him about the night his sister disappeared."
My breathing stopped.
"Why?"
"Because he wasn't the only one looking for her."
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
The number disappeared.
Not blocked.
Not disconnected.
Gone.
Like it had never existed.
I slowly lowered the phone.
And when I looked up, Roman was standing in front of me.
I didn't hear him approach.
That bothered me.
People like Roman were never supposed to move unnoticed.
But he had.
"What did she say?"
His question was calm.
Too calm.
I looked at him.
"You heard?"
"No."
"Then why ask?"
Because he knew.
I could see it.
Roman Vale wasn't guessing.
He was testing.
"I saw your face change."
I said nothing.
He looked down at the photograph on the floor.
Then at the envelope in my hand.
"Someone contacted you."
It wasn't a question.
I placed the envelope behind my back.
"Why do you care?"
His expression changed slightly.
Almost pain.
Almost anger.
"Because six years ago, someone took my sister away from me."
The way he said it was different.
Not like a businessman.
Not like a powerful man.
Like a brother.
A brother who had spent years blaming himself.
"What was her name?" I asked.
Roman didn't answer immediately.
That told me everything.
Because names mattered.
Especially forgotten ones.
"Claire."
The sound of the name hit me.
Claire Vale.
The woman everyone believed disappeared.
The woman connected to my past.
The woman who was supposed to be dead.
I looked away.
Roman noticed.
"You know her."
"No."
The lie came too quickly.
His eyes narrowed.
"You do."
I hated how easily he saw through people.
But then again...
I had spent years doing the same thing.
"Why are you asking me?"
"Because before she disappeared, she mentioned someone."
I looked at him.
"Who?"
Roman stepped closer.
"An athlete."
My body went still.
"She said that person was the only one who could expose what happened."
I swallowed.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I think that person was you."
The room felt smaller.
Six years of hiding.
Six years of silence.
Six years of pretending I didn't remember.
All collapsing in one conversation.
I wanted to leave.
Every instinct told me to run.
But another part of me knew running was the reason I was still trapped.
"What happened to Claire?" I asked.
Roman looked down.
For the first time, he looked uncertain.
"Everyone told me she was gone."
"Everyone?"
"Her friends. Her doctors. The police report."
Something about that answer bothered me.
"Doctors?"
Roman looked at me.
"She was injured before she disappeared."
My fingers tightened.
Because I remembered.
I remembered a hospital room.
A woman holding my hand.
A woman whispering:
"Don't trust anyone with the Vale name."
I had spent years convincing myself it was a nightmare.
But now...
Now Roman was standing in front of me.
And Claire's name was alive again.
"Where did she disappear?" I asked.
Roman looked toward the restaurant entrance.
"Outside the city."
"Where?"
He hesitated.
That was the first time I saw something break through his control.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For someone else.
"An abandoned training facility."
My heartbeat changed.
Because I knew that place.
I knew it better than anyone.
The place where I had trained.
The place where my career ended.
The place where Claire had found me six years ago.
"You've been there," Roman said.
I didn't answer.
He didn't need one.
My face had already answered.
Suddenly, one of Roman's men rushed toward us.
His name was Bennett.
And for the first time since I met him, he looked genuinely nervous.
"Roman."
Roman turned.
"What?"
Bennett lowered his voice.
"We checked the security cameras."
"And?"
His eyes moved toward me.
"The woman who left the envelope..."
I felt my body freeze.
Roman stepped closer.
"Who was she?"
Bennett swallowed.
"She wasn't a stranger."
Nobody spoke.
"She was someone from Claire's old records."
Roman's face changed.
"Name."
Bennett looked at me.
Then said:
"Someone listed as deceased six years ago."
The restaurant went silent.
Roman stared at me.
I stared at Bennett.
Because there was only one person connected to Claire's disappearance who had died that exact night.
And when Bennett pulled out the security photo, I saw the face I had spent six years trying to forget.
The woman in the picture was standing outside Bellweather Room.
She was looking directly at the camera.
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And beneath the image was a timestamp from ten minutes earlier...
She was still alive.
