Chapter 15 — The Night Julian Disappeared With Our Children
The next morning, Julian was gone.
So were the children.
I woke at 6:12 a.m.
The house was silent.
Too silent.
I checked the children's room.
Empty.
Their beds were made.
Their shoes were gone.
Their backpacks were gone.
I ran downstairs.
“Julian?”
Nothing.
I checked the kitchen.
Nothing.
The garage.
His car was gone.
My heart began pounding.
I called him.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Then I saw the note.
It was on the kitchen counter.
Three words.
Don't trust anyone.
My hands began to shake.
I called Marcus.
No answer.
Selina.
No answer.
Daniel.
Straight to voicemail.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I was completely alone.
I called the police.
“My husband took my children.”
The officer asked questions.
I answered them through tears.
When they arrived, I handed them the note.
One officer studied it.
“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“Julian's.”
He nodded.
“Did he threaten to take the children?”
“No.”
“Did you have an argument?”
“No.”
“Was he behaving strangely?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He was afraid.”
The officer looked at me.
“Afraid of what?”
I couldn't answer.
Because the truth sounded insane.
A hidden trust.
A missing fortune.
A dead mother.
A secret network.
A billionaire financier.
A twenty-four-year conspiracy.
And now my husband had disappeared with our children.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message.
HE TOOK THEM BECAUSE HE KNOWS WHAT'S COMING.
I called the number.
It was disconnected.
Another message arrived.
IF YOU WANT THEM BACK, GO TO THE HOUSE.
I stared at the screen.
The safe house.
I knew immediately.
I grabbed my coat.
The officer tried to stop me.
“Ma'am, you shouldn't go anywhere alone.”
“I won't.”
I called Marcus.
This time he answered.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Julian took the children.”
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I'll be there.”
“Marcus.”
“What?”
“Check the safe house.”
“I already am.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“It's empty.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then where did he take them?”
Marcus hesitated.
“I don't know.”
I drove anyway.
Daniel met me halfway.
He looked exhausted.
“You shouldn't have come.”
“Where are my children?”
“I don't know.”
“Then find them.”
“I am.”
“Daniel.”
I grabbed his coat.
“If anything happens to them—”
“I know.”
“No.”
I let go.
“You don't know.”
My voice broke.
“They're everything.”
Daniel nodded.
“I know.”
We reached the mansion.
The front door was open.
Inside, everything looked untouched.
Except one room.
The room where we had found my mother's photographs.
Empty.
The hidden staircase was open.
We went downstairs.
The steel room was empty.
Then I noticed something.
A small toy car.
My son's favorite.
I picked it up.
He never went anywhere without it.
I began crying.
“He was here.”
Marcus nodded.
“Recently.”
Daniel found something beneath the desk.
A folded piece of paper.
He opened it.
It was a map.
One location was circled.
A remote cabin near the lake.
I looked at Marcus.
“That's where Julian took them.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
I pointed to the paper.
“He left it for us.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why?”
I knew.
“Because he wants us to follow.”
We drove there.
The cabin stood alone among pine trees.
Julian's car was outside.
The doors were unlocked.
I ran inside.
“Julian!”
No answer.
“Kids!”
Nothing.
The cabin was empty.
But there were signs they'd been there.
Two blankets.
Half-eaten sandwiches.
A children's drawing on the table.
My daughter had drawn our family.
Five figures.
Me.
Julian.
Her.
Her brother.
And another person.
A tall black figure.
I stared at it.
“Who's that?”
Marcus looked.
“She said it was the bad man.”
My blood ran cold.
Then I noticed something written beneath the drawing.
In my daughter's handwriting:
Daddy said Mommy has to find the blue door.
“What blue door?”
Nobody knew.
I searched the cabin.
Nothing.
Then Julian's voice came from the speaker system.
A recording.
“Emma.”
I froze.
His voice continued.
“If you're hearing this, I'm sorry.”
My hands trembled.
“I had to take the children somewhere safe.”
“You were right.”
“You shouldn't trust anyone.”
A pause.
“Not even me.”
I closed my eyes.
“I found out who has been accessing the trust.”
The recording continued.
“And it isn't Vane.”
My heart stopped.
“It's someone inside our family.”
Marcus went pale.
“What?”
Julian continued:
“Emma, don't come looking for me.”
“Don't contact the police.”
“And whatever you do…”
“Don't open the blue door.”
The recording ended.
I looked at Marcus.
“What blue door?”
Then we heard a sound behind us.
A slow creak.
I turned.
At the end of the hallway was a door.
Painted blue.
I stared at it.
The warning echoed in my mind.
Don't open the blue door.
Marcus whispered,
“Maybe we shouldn't.”
I walked toward it.
“I've spent my whole life obeying other people's warnings.”
I put my hand on the handle.
“I'm done.”
I opened the door.
Inside was a room covered in photographs.
Hundreds of them.
My mother.
My father.
Julian.
Me.
Our children.
Every stage of my life.
But one photograph stopped me cold.
It had been taken only two days earlier.
Julian was standing beside our children.
And beside him was—
Richard Vane.
Alive.
Smiling.
My stomach dropped.
Under the photograph was a handwritten note.
Julian didn't take the children to hide them from Vane.
I read the next line.
He took them to meet him.
I couldn't breathe.
Then Marcus whispered:
“Emma…”
I turned.
He was holding another photograph.
It showed Julian shaking hands with Richard Vane.
And underneath it was a date.
Three years ago.
The year before Julian ever told me he had discovered the conspiracy.
The year before he supposedly began protecting me.
I stared at my husband's face in the photograph.
For the first time—
May you like
I wondered whether Julian had been protecting me from Vane…
or protecting Vane from me.
