Chapter 3 - The Fourteen-Month Lie
The silence that followed Eric’s words was so absolute I could hear the faint crashing of the Pacific waves against the cliffs three hundred feet below our house.
"What did you just say?" I rasped, clutching my stomach as a wave of nausea washed over me.
"Maya and Julian are alive," Eric repeated, his voice low, filled with a crushing guilt that seemed to age him ten years right before my eyes. "They've been hiding in a safe house in Baja California for the last year."
"You... you knew?" I took two steps back, staring at my husband as if he were a complete stranger. "I cried in your arms every night for six months, Eric! I had a mental breakdown! I had a miscarriage six months ago because the grief and stress were destroying my body! And you knew my sister was alive the entire time?!"
"Elena, please, let me explain—"
"You let me mourn her!" I screamed, the rage exploding out of my chest with such force that the baby on the bed stirred, letting out a small, whimpering cry.
Eric instantly pivoted, dropping to his knees beside the bed, gently sliding his large hands under the infant, lifting him against his chest. He rocked Leo softly, humming a low tune until the baby settled back down, burying his tiny face into Eric’s neck.
The sight of my husband holding my lost nephew with such practiced, gentle familiarity broke something inside me forever.
"Maya and Julian didn't kill themselves, Elena," Eric said softly, keeping his eyes on the baby. "Julian was an executive auditor for Mercer Financial. Two weeks before Leo was born, Julian discovered that Mercer Financial was a front for money laundering linked to a massive human trafficking syndicate in Vancouver."
My breath hitched. "What?"
"Julian tried to go to the FBI," Eric continued, looking up at me with haunted eyes. "Within forty-eight hours, three hitmen broke into their apartment in Seattle. Julian barely got Maya out. They knew if they stayed alive, the syndicate would use you to hunt them down. They staged the crash on the Columbia River to protect you."
"And how do you fit into this, Eric?" I demanded, my hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. "How does a software founder from La Jolla get involved with a Vancouver syndicate?"
"Because Julian called me from a payphone thirty minutes after the crash," Eric said quietly. "He knew I had the money, the resources, and the private security network to fake their deaths and put them into witness protection outside the country. I funded their extraction. I built their safe house. I paid off the local coroner in Washington to forge the dental records."
"And you didn't tell me," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. "Your own wife."
"Julian made me swear on Leo's life," Eric said, his voice breaking. "He said if you knew, your reaction, your phone calls, your visits... it would leave a paper trail. The syndicate was monitoring your phone for six months after the crash, Elena! If I had told you, they would have found Maya. They would have killed all of you!"
"So you decided to play God instead?" I spat, stepping closer to him, staring down at him as he cradled the baby. "You let me suffer. You let me believe my family was wiped out. And why is Leo here tonight, Eric? If they are so safe in Baja, why is their baby on my bed?!"
May you like
Eric looked down at the infant in his arms, his jaw tightening so hard a muscle twitched beneath his cheek.
"Because six hours ago," Eric whispered, "the safe house in Baja was compromised. Maya and Julian were taken. And Leo was the only one who made it out alive."
