Chapter 5
We spent the next two weeks setting the trap.
Jonathan’s team leaked a rumor to Ethan’s private investigator— the same one Ethan had hired to make sure my body was never found.
The rumor: a woman matching my description had been seen at a small hospital outside Denver, with a newborn baby.
A woman who’d paid cash, who’d given a fake name, who’d refused to let anyone take her photo.
They made sure the PI got a blurry photo of me holding Liam, taken through the window of the safe house.
My face was hidden, but my hair, my height, the cast on my wrist— all unmistakable.
Ethan took the bait.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Jonathan’s people tracked his phone, his car, his credit cards.
He was panicking.
Driving all over the state, checking every small hospital, every motel, every cabin within a hundred miles of Denver.
He called Brittany a dozen times a day, screaming at her, telling her they had to find me before I went to the police.
Telling her if I talked, they’d both spend the rest of their lives in prison.
I listened to the recordings of their calls every night, after Liam fell asleep.
Heard the fear in his voice.
The desperation.
It was music to my ears.
For months, I’d been the one scared.
The one looking over my shoulder.
The one waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Now it was his turn.
One night, Jonathan came into the living room, his face serious.
“He’s getting close,” he said.
“His PI found out about the cabin. He knows someone matching your description is staying here. They’ll be here by tomorrow night.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Not from fear.
From excitement.
It was almost over.
“Good,” I said.
“Everything’s ready?”
Jonathan nodded.
“FBI is on standby. Local police are ten minutes out. Cameras are set up in every room, every corner of the property. Every word he says will be recorded. Every move he makes will be on tape.”
He paused, put a hand on my shoulder.
“Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to see him. We can have the police arrest him when he steps on the property. You don’t have to face him.”
I thought about it.
Thought about the cliff.
About the cold.
About lying there, bleeding, thinking I was going to die.
About Liam, almost dying before he even took his first breath.
I looked down at my son, sleeping peacefully in his bassinet beside the couch.
“I have to,” I said.
“I need to see the look on his face when he realizes he lost. I need him to see me. Alive. With my son. To know he failed.”
Jonathan squeezed my shoulder.
“Okay,” he said.
“Then tomorrow night, we end this.”
The next day dragged by like molasses.
I spent the morning holding Liam, talking to him, telling him how much I loved him.
Telling him that after tonight, no one would ever hurt us again.
Jonathan’s team set up the final pieces.
Moved Liam’s bassinet into the locked safe room down the hall, with two armed guards outside.
Made sure the cameras were rolling.
Made sure the police were in position.
Made sure everything was perfect.
By ten o’clock that night, the house was quiet.
I sat in the living room, lights dim, waiting.
Jonathan stood in the kitchen, out of sight, listening.
The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
At 10:17, I heard it.
A car door slamming outside.
Quiet voices.
Footsteps on the porch.
Then the front door creaked open.
Slow.
Careful.
Ethan stepped into the living room first.
A gun in his hand.
His face pale, his eyes wild.
Behind him, Brittany.
Shaking, a knife clutched in her hand.
They froze when they saw me.
Sitting on the couch, calm, no fear in my eyes.
Ethan was the first to speak.
His voice cracked, disbelieving.
“You’re dead,” he whispered.
“I saw you fall. You should be dead.”
I stood up, slow.
Kept my eyes on his.
The gun in his hand didn’t scare me.
Nothing he could do could hurt me anymore.
“Surprise,” I said.
My voice was steady, strong.
“Looks like your plan didn’t work out.”
Brittany let out a small scream.
Dropped the knife.
It clattered on the hardwood floor.
“How?” she gasped.
“How are you alive? We left you there. The snow—”
“Someone found me,” I said.
“Someone who loves me. Someone who’s been waiting a long time to take care of people like you.”
I nodded toward the kitchen.
Jonathan stepped out.
Stood beside me, tall, powerful, his face like stone.
Ethan’s eyes went wide when he saw him.
He knew exactly who Jonathan Cross was.
Knew he owned the insurance company.
Knew he was the one who’d been holding up the payout.
“Mr. Cross,” Ethan stammered, lowering the gun a fraction.
“I— I don’t understand. What is this? Who is she to you?”
Jonathan smiled.
A cold, terrifying smile.
May you like
“She’s my daughter,” he said.
“The daughter you tried to murder. The mother of my grandson. And you, Ethan Carter, have just walked into the biggest mistake of your life.”
