LOGINThe park felt like a different world. A peaceful world where the worst thing that could happen was a duck stealing too much bread. Emma chased pigeons across the grass while Marcus captured every moment through his camera lens. I sat on the bench watching them and tried to convince myself this was real. That the danger was truly over.My phone buzzed. Agent Park again."Bethany, we need you to come to the federal building tomorrow. There's been a development."My stomach dropped. "What kind of development?""We've been monitoring Brock's communications from the psychiatric facility. He received a visitor yesterday. His lawyer brought someone who claimed to be a distant cousin. But our facial recognition software flagged her." Agent Park paused. "It was Jessica Patterson."The name hit me like ice water. "That's impossible. Jessica is supposed to be in Europe. Interpol has been tracking her.""She came back. We don't know why yet. But she met with Brock for thirty minutes. We couldn't
I walked out of the prison into bright afternoon sunlight. Marcus stood beside his car in the parking lot, exactly where he said he would be. When he saw my face, he opened his arms. I walked into them and let myself fall apart for just a moment."It's done," I whispered against his chest. "It's really done.""How do you feel?"I pulled back and thought about it. "Empty. Sad. Relieved. All of it at once." I looked back at the gray prison building. "He's completely broken, Marcus. He actually believes his own lies now. In his mind, I'm the villain who destroyed him.""Does that bother you?""No. Not anymore. I know the truth. Emma knows the truth. That's all that matters." I took a deep breath. "Let's go home. I want to see my daughter."The drive home was quiet but peaceful. Marcus played soft music on the radio. I watched the city pass by outside the window. People going about their normal lives. Shopping. Laughing. Walking dogs. Existing in a world where their ex-husbands weren't in
The hospital was too bright after the darkness of the harbor. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead while doctors checked Emma for injuries. She sat on the examination table wrapped in a blanket, still shaking but trying to be brave. Marcus held one of her hands. I held the other."No signs of physical trauma," the doctor said after finishing his examination. "No bruises, no cuts. Whoever had her didn't hurt her physically. But I'm recommending a full psychological evaluation. Kidnapping is traumatic even when there's no physical harm."I nodded numbly. Dr. Chen was already on her way. Emma would need therapy. Again. More sessions unpacking more trauma. My seven year old daughter had experienced more horror than most adults face in a lifetime."Can we go home?" Emma's small voice cut through my thoughts."Soon, baby." I smoothed her hair back from her face. "The doctors just want to make sure you're completely okay."Agent Park appeared in the doorway. Her expression was grim. "Bethany,
Agent Park's car screamed through the empty streets toward the harbor. My hands gripped the dashboard so hard my knuckles turned white. Behind us, three more FBI vehicles followed with sirens blaring. The city blurred past in streaks of light and shadow."How long since you sent the message?" Agent Park asked. Her foot pressed the accelerator harder.I checked my phone. "Twelve minutes. Brock said Chloe would wait ten minutes for his call. We're already past the deadline.""Then we pray she's stalling. That she's waiting a little longer to be sure." Agent Park spoke into her radio. "All units converge on harbor locations near Statue of Liberty viewing areas. Suspect is Chloe Winters, white female, early thirties. Hostage is Emma Chen, seven years old. Consider suspect armed and extremely dangerous."My mind wouldn't stop racing. Chloe Winters. A name I had barely thought about in a decade. A face I had almost completely forgotten. But she had remembered me. She had spent ten years nur
The address Brock sent led me to the old Riverside Textile Factory on the edge of the city. I stood in the parking lot for a moment, staring at the crumbling brick building. Broken windows stared back at me like empty eyes. This place had been abandoned for years after a fire destroyed half the production floor.How fitting that our final confrontation would happen in a place that burned.I checked my phone one last time. Marcus had sent three messages begging me not to go alone. Agent Park had called twice. I ignored them both. The small GPS tracker sewn into my jacket collar would tell them where I was if things went wrong. But if I showed up with FBI backup, Brock would disappear again. Emma would disappear with him.This ended tonight. One way or another.The factory door hung loose on broken hinges. I pushed it open and stepped into darkness that smelled like mold and old smoke. My footsteps echoed on the concrete floor as I walked deeper into the building. Moonlight filtered thr
The interview exploded. Within six hours, it was everywhere. Fashion blogs picked it up first. Then true crime podcasts. Then mainstream news. Social media went wild with reactions."Designer calls out ex-husband: 'Brock Hamilton is a coward'""Bethany Nott challenges fugitive: 'Face me directly if you're brave enough'""Fashion industry rallies behind designer who refuses to be silenced"The comments were split. Some people praised my courage. Others called it reckless. Foolish. Exactly what Brock wanted. A few suggested I was having a breakdown. That grief and trauma had made me irrational.Maybe they were right. Maybe this was insane. But I was done being hunted. Done waiting for Brock to strike. Done watching Emma suffer while I did nothing.Eight hours after publication, my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I knew before reading."You called me a coward. In front of the entire world. Said I hide. Said I'm weak. Said I don't have courage to face you. Fine. Let's test that theory. You







