Chapter 5 - The Net Tightens
The incident at the Oakhaven harbor made the front page of the regional county newspaper the following morning: Miracle on the Boardwalk: Local Woman Throws Herself From Wheelchair to Save Toddler.
The photograph accompanying the article showed the crushed wheelchair beside the seaside lamp post. The local reporter had omitted Evelyn’s name at her frantic request, referring to her simply as ""a heroic local resident.""
However, five hundred miles away in his New York office, Gideon Vale did not miss details.
His intelligence firm had set automated scrapers monitoring every police log, medical emergency, and news report containing the word ""wheelchair"" across forty-eight states. Within two hours of the paper hitting newsstands, the high-resolution scan landed on Gideon’s desk.
Gideon stared at the mangled metal frame in the photograph.
His heart seized.
He recognized the custom titanium welds. He had commissioned that exact model from an aerospace engineering firm in Germany. Every joint had been custom-molded to fit Evelyn’s posture, lined with shock-absorbing carbon fiber.
""She's alive,"" Gideon whispered, his voice shaking with a terrifying mixture of relief and absolute dread. ""And she was in an accident.""
He pressed the intercom. ""Hayes. Mobilize the private jet. We're going to Maine. Now.""
""Sir, the weather in the northeast is—""
""I don't care if there's a hurricane,"" Gideon snarled, grabbing his coat. ""If the pilots won't fly, I'll fly it myself.""
During the ninety-minute flight, Gideon stared out the window into the endless gray clouds. Over the last four months, he had lost fifteen pounds. His suits hung loosely on his broad frame, and his sharp cheekbones were accentuated by permanent shadows. He had dismantled Celeste's family business entirely, leaving them bankrupt and disgraced, but it brought him no peace.
Vengeance meant nothing without Evelyn.
When the jet touched down on the wet tarmac of the coastal airstrip, a convoy of four black SUVs was already waiting. Gideon climbed into the lead vehicle.
""We pulled the local emergency response logs, Mr. Vale,"" Hayes reported from the front seat as they sped along the winding coastal highway. ""The woman from the accident was evaluated at Oakhaven Memorial Clinic. Minor abrasions. She declined ambulance transport to the city hospital.""
""Did they give a name?"" Gideon asked, his knuckles white against the leather seat.
""Evelyn Cross. Address listed on a private lease on Shoreline Drive.""
Gideon closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against his folded hands. Cross. Her grandmother's maiden name. She had hidden in plain sight, living beside the ocean she had always told him she loved during their rare, quiet mornings together.
""Drive faster,"" Gideon commanded.
Ten minutes later, the convoy turned onto a narrow gravel lane lined with pine trees. The scent of salt water hung thick in the air. Through the rain-slicked windshield, Gideon saw the small wooden cottage perched atop the bluff.
Smoke curled gently from the brick chimney.
Gideon didn't wait for his security detail to clear the perimeter. As soon as the vehicle slowed, he threw the door open and stepped out into the steady drizzle. His polished dress shoes sank into the wet gravel as he marched up the wooden porch steps.
His hand hovered over the brass knocker for a split second. His chest heaved with an unbearable weight.
What if she screamed? What if she looked at him with the same chilling emptiness that had accompanied her goodbye note?
He braced himself and pushed the front door.
It wasn't locked.
Gideon stepped into the warm, cedar-scented living room. The cottage was quiet, save for the crackling of the small hearth.
Then he looked toward the kitchen archway.
Evelyn was standing there.
Not sitting.
She was leaning lightly against the wooden counter, holding a steaming mug of chamomile tea. She wore a soft cream knit dress that fell past her knees.
And her silhouette was transformed.
May you like
A rounded, unmistakable swell pushed outward beneath the fabric of her dress.
Gideon stopped dead in his tracks. The world around him faded into absolute white noise. His eyes moved from her face—pale, shocked, and defensive—down to the life growing visibly beneath her heart.
