CHAPTER 52: FOUND HER

I left Axel’s office without another word, my heart pounding with a mixture of anger and determination. The confrontation had drained me emotionally, but it had also crystallized something in my mind: I couldn’t keep living in the dark.

After a quick bath to wash away the remnants of the previous night’s ordeal, I found Erica waiting in the foyer with her bags. She looked worried as she watched me descend the stairs.

"Ready?" I asked, forcing a smile.

"Are you sure you should be driving?" she asked, studying my face. "You look exhausted, and after everything that happened last night..."

"I’m fine. Besides, I want to make sure you get there safely myself."

"Layla, you don’t have to do that. Axel could have sent a driver."

"No, I want to do this. I need to do this." To clear my mind, I added in my mind.

The drive to the apartment Axel had arranged was quiet at first. I could feel Erica’s eyes on me as I navigated through the city streets.

"You’re gripping the steering wheel awfully tight," she observed quietly.

"Am I?"

"Yes. And you’ve been checking the mirrors every few seconds."

I forced myself to relax my hands. "I’m just being careful."

"Layla," she said after a while, "there’s something I need to ask you."

"What is it?"

"The strain between you and Axel, it’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?" Her voice was soft and hesitant. "I can’t help but feel like I’m somehow the cause of it."

I glanced at her briefly before focusing back on the road. This time, I didn’t rush to reassure her like I usually would. Instead, I gave her a small, tired smile.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because ever since I came to stay with you both, I noticed the tension. The way he looks at me sometimes, like he doesn’t trust me. And you’ve been different too."

"Different how?"

"More guarded. More lonely, I guess." She shifted in her seat. "I’ve been wondering if maybe I should have found somewhere else to go."

"Erica, you’re not responsible for the problems in my marriage," I said quickly, annoyed. "We just have something we are trying to agree on, that’s all."

"But they’ve gotten worse since I arrived, haven’t they?"

I was silent for a moment, considering her question. "Maybe. But that’s not because of you specifically. It’s because Axel and I have different ideas about trust and honesty."

"What do you mean?"

"He thinks protecting me means keeping me in the dark about some things. I think protecting me means telling me what I need to know."

She nodded slowly. "That sounds like a fundamental difference."

"It is."

"And there’s no middle ground?"

I simply shrugged.

She was quiet for a moment. "I hate seeing you both so unhappy."

"I know you do."

When we arrived at the apartment complex, I was impressed by the security measures Axel had put in place. There were at least six guards visible, and I suspected there were more I couldn’t see.

"This looks like Fort Knox," Erica said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Good. That’s exactly what I want." I turned to face her as we sat in the car. "Erica, I need you to promise me something."

"Of course."

"Call me at the first sign of trouble. Anything at all, no matter how small it seems." I reached over and squeezed her hand. "And I want you to know that I’m going to personally look into these criminals who are after you. I won’t let them hurt you."

Her eyes widened. "Layla, you don’t have to do that. You have enough on your plate with the murder investigation and everything with Axel."

"Yes, I do have to. You’re my friend, and you’ve been nothing but loyal to me. It’s time I returned that loyalty."

"But what if it’s dangerous?"

"Everything’s dangerous right now, Erica. At least this way, I’m being proactive instead of reactive."

"Does Axel know you’re planning this?"

I laughed humourlessly. "Axel doesn’t know about most of the things I’m planning these days."

"Maybe you should tell him. Maybe if you worked together..."

"Erica, don’t stress yourself.

She squeezed my hand back, tears forming in her eyes. "I’m sorry you’re going through all this."

"Don’t be sorry. Just be safe." I looked toward the building. "Are you ready to go in?"

"As ready as I can be for going into witness protection, I guess."

"It’s not witness protection. It’s just enhanced security."

"Enhanced security that requires me to essentially disappear from my life?"

"Temporarily."

"You hope."

"I know," I said firmly. "We’re going to figure this out, Erica. All of it."

After ensuring Erica was safely inside and introducing her to the head of security, I sat in my car for a few minutes, thinking.

My mother’s words from our brief encounter kept echoing in my mind, something about the old tree cabin. Growing up, it had been my secret hideaway, a place where I’d go to escape the tension in the house.

It was time I went back home.

The decision to go alone wasn’t easy, especially with the murder investigation still ongoing, but the suspense and mystery were eating away at me. I couldn’t keep waiting for answers that might never come.

I drove to my childhood home in the early afternoon, timing it perfectly. My father would be at his office, Cassandra would be at work, and most of the house staff would be on their afternoon break. The house would be as empty as it ever got.

I parked a few blocks away and made my way to the back of the property on foot, using a small gate that only the residents knew about; it had never been secured properly.

The garden looked just like I remembered, well-kept but still felt cold and uninviting.

The old oak tree stood majestically in the far corner of the yard, its branches reaching toward the sky like gnarled fingers.

The treehouse my father had built when I was seven was still there; it looked weathered but still intact.

Memories flooded back as I approached it: afternoons spent reading up there, crying after fights with Cassandra, dreaming about a life beyond these walls. It had been my sanctuary, the one place in this house where I’d felt truly safe.

I climbed up carefully, the wooden ladder creaking under my weight.

Inside, everything was exactly as I’d left it years ago: a few old books, a blanket I’d forgotten about, and dust particles dancing in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the small windows.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking for exactly, but I began searching methodically. My mother had mentioned this place specifically, so there had to be something here.

After twenty minutes of searching, I noticed something odd about one of the corner floorboards. There was a small dent, almost imperceptible, but when I pressed on it, it gave way slightly.

My heart racing, I pried at the board until it came loose. Underneath was a small hollow space, and inside that space was a stack of documents and old letters tied together with a faded ribbon.

I didn’t have time to read them properly; I needed to get out of there before someone saw me, but I could see they were legal documents, correspondence, and what looked like medical records.

My hands trembled as I tucked them inside my jacket.

I climbed down from the treehouse and was making my way toward the back gate when something made me stop.

Through one of the ground-floor windows, I could see into my mother’s room. She was there, lying in bed, and for the first time since that day at the hospital, her eyes were open.

Against every rational thought in my head, I found myself walking toward the house. I slipped in through the back door, which I knew was always left unlocked for the gardener, and made my way to her room.

"Mom?" I whispered as I entered.