Chapter 4 - The Voice in the Bathroom
The entire hallway seemed to hold its breath.
Victor stared at the open bathroom door. A soft, rustling sound came from within—the gentle turning of fabric, the faint clink of glass.
"Evelyn?" Victor whispered, his voice cracking. He didn't wait for an answer. He crossed the bedroom in three long strides and pushed the bathroom door wide open.
Sitting on the edge of the clawfoot tub, dressed in a simple white linen dress, was a woman. Her long dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders, framing a face that haunted Victor’s dreams every single night for two years.
It was Evelyn.
She looked thinner, her skin pale from a lack of natural sunlight, but her eyes—those sharp, brilliant hazel eyes—were unmistakably alive.
"Victor," she breathed, her voice raspy, as if she hadn't spoken above a whisper in months. She stood up slowly, her bare feet touching the cold tile floor. "You... you finally found the key."
Victor fell to his knees before her, reaching out as if touching a ghost, his calloused fingers grazing her cheek. Warm. Real. Flesh and blood.
"Evelyn... my God, Evelyn," Victor choked out, tears finally breaking free and spilling down his face. "They told me you were gone. They gave me a death certificate. I mourned you every single day."
Evelyn’s hands came up, cupping his face, her thumbs gently wiping away his tears. "I know, my love. I could hear you through the door sometimes. At night, when the house was quiet, I would listen to your footsteps in the hallway right outside. I wanted to scream out, but your mother... she made it clear what would happen to Theo if I ever forced my way out."
Behind Victor, Mrs. Ashcroft stepped into the room, her expression unchanged.
"You see, Victor?" she said, her voice dripping with toxic pragmatism. "She is alive. She is safe. She is fed. No scandal touched the family, and you were spared the agony of caring for a broken woman. Everything is exactly as it should be."
Victor stood up slowly, towering over his mother with a look so full of pure, unadulterated hatred that even the matriarch stepped back.
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"You locked the mother of my child away like an animal," Victor whispered, his voice lethal. "You lied to my face for twenty-four months. You made my son believe his mother vanished into thin air."
He turned back to Evelyn, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her hair. "It's over," he vowed fiercely. "You are coming out of this room today. The whole world is going to know the truth."
