Police rushed into the basement, their flashlights slicing through the dark as I clung to the doorframe, barely able to stand. Then I saw him—James.
He was frail, chained, barely recognizable. His eyes met mine, filled with fear. “Margaret… help me,” he whispered.
I tried to reach him, but the officers held me back as they freed him, their faces grim. He was supposed to be dead—lost in a car crash—yet here he was, alive and imprisoned.
When they brought him out, I cupped his face, tears falling. “What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
Paramedics took him away as I followed in shock. Rachel was still missing, the mystery only deepening.
As the ambulance doors closed, I held onto the only hope I had left—James—and made a promise to find the truth and bring my daughter home.