Chapter 2 - THE MORNING ROMAN CAME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE
By the time Roman Carter returned home, the snow had already covered the tire tracks from the car that had carried me away.
He drove through the iron gates a little after two in the morning, expecting the estate to look exactly as it always did.
The security lights were on.
The Christmas tree glowed through the enormous windows.
The driveway was empty.
Everything appeared normal.
That was the first thing that made him suspicious.
Roman was a man who noticed changes.
He could walk into a boardroom and immediately know which executive had changed his position on a deal.
He could enter a restaurant and notice when one waiter was missing from his usual station.
He could look at a balance sheet for thirty seconds and find a number that didn't belong.
But that night, he failed to notice the biggest change in his life until he stepped through the front door.
“Savannah?”
His voice echoed through the foyer.
No answer.
Roman removed his gloves.
He looked toward the dining room.
The Christmas dinner was still there.
Two plates.
Two wine glasses.
Candles burned down to tiny pools of wax.
The roast had been covered.
The cookies were packed into metal tins.
Nothing had been touched.
His expression changed.
“Savannah?”
Still nothing.
He walked into the kitchen.
The house was too quiet.
Roman checked his phone.
No missed calls.
No messages.
He called me.
My phone was turned off.
He called again.
Nothing.
A strange pressure settled in his chest.
He went upstairs.
Our bedroom was empty.
The closet door was open.
Several of my clothes were missing.
Roman stopped breathing for a moment.
Then he walked toward the nursery.
The door was open.
Wide open.
The lights were off.
Moonlight fell across the crib.
He stood there staring at the empty room.
Then his eyes moved toward the corner where my hospital bag had been.
Gone.
Roman slowly stepped inside.
The room still smelled like the lavender candles I had chosen.
A tiny yellow blanket lay folded on the rocking chair.
A stuffed rabbit sat beside the crib.
Everything was ready for the daughter we had spent months waiting for.
Everything except her mother.
Roman turned around.
“Security!”
Within seconds, two men appeared.
“Sir.”
“Where is my wife?”
The head of security looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Carter left the property around eleven-thirty.”
Roman stared at him.
“Who drove her?”
“Margaret.”
“Where?”
“We don't know.”
Roman's voice became dangerously quiet.
“You don't know?”
“She instructed us not to follow.”
That answer made Roman even more still.
He turned toward the Christmas tree.
Something was visible beneath the branches.
A small object reflecting the lights.
He walked closer.
Then stopped.
My wedding ring.
Roman stared at it.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then he crouched and picked it up.
His fingers closed around the ring.
Five years earlier, he had placed it on my finger while standing beneath the Chicago skyline.
He had promised me forever.
Now I had left it beneath a Christmas tree.
Without a note.
Without an explanation.
Roman understood exactly what it meant.
He stood slowly.
“Call Margaret.”
“She isn't answering.”
“Again.”
They called.
No answer.
Roman called himself.
This time, Margaret picked up.
“Where is Savannah?”
Silence.
“Margaret.”
“She is safe.”
“Where?”
“I won't tell you.”
Roman's jaw tightened.
“You work for me.”
Margaret's voice was calm.
“I work for the household.”
“Where is my wife?”
“Somewhere she feels safe.”
Roman closed his eyes.
“Did she tell you why she left?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Margaret hesitated.
“She said she finally understood that she couldn't raise a child in a home where she had to beg her husband to choose her.”
Roman's expression changed.
“Margaret—”
“She didn't ask me to defend her.”
“Then don't.”
“She doesn't need defending.”
The call ended.
Roman stared at the phone.
For the first time in his life, he had no idea what to do.
He went into his study and poured a drink.
Then he didn't drink it.
He sat behind his desk and stared at the ring.
His phone rang.
Claire.
Roman looked at the name.
He didn't answer.
It rang again.
He finally picked up.
“What?”
“Roman.”
“Where are you?”
“At the hotel.”
“Did you send Savannah that photograph?”
Claire went silent.
“What photograph?”
“The picture of us.”
“I didn't.”
Roman's eyes narrowed.
“Then who did?”
“I don't know.”
He looked toward the Christmas tree through the study doors.
Claire continued.
“Is she gone?”
“Yes.”
“Oh God.”
“You knew this was coming.”
“No.”
“You knew she suspected us.”
“Yes.”
“And you still came.”
Claire's voice became defensive.
“You told me you were leaving her.”
“I said I was considering it.”
“You told me you didn't love her anymore.”
Roman stared at the ring.
He suddenly remembered something.
The moment in the kitchen.
Savannah asking him to stay.
The way she had looked at him.
She hadn't screamed.
She hadn't thrown anything.
She had simply asked him to choose.
And he had looked at his watch.
“I made a mistake,” he whispered.
Claire said nothing.
Roman hung up.
He sat alone until sunrise.
At 6:18, his head of security entered the room.
“Sir.”
Roman looked up.
“We found the vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned at a train station.”
Roman stood.
“Where is Savannah?”
“We don't know.”
“Find her.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man hesitated.
“Do you want us to bring her back?”
Roman stared at him.
The old Roman would have answered immediately.
Yes.
Instead, he shook his head.
“No.”
The security chief looked surprised.
“Then what do you want?”
Roman looked down at the ring.
“I want to know where she is.”
“And if she refuses to return?”
Roman swallowed.
“Then she refuses.”
It was the first time in years that he had said those words without anger.
Across town, I was lying in a small guest bedroom at Margaret's sister's house.
I hadn't slept.
My daughter had been moving all night.
My back hurt.
My heart hurt more.
Margaret sat beside the bed with a cup of tea.
“You need to rest.”
“I can't.”
“You will.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“What if he finds us?”
Margaret smiled gently.
“He probably will.”
I turned toward her.
“That doesn't comfort me.”
“It wasn't supposed to.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then my phone vibrated.
Roman.
I stared at the screen.
I almost rejected the call.
Instead, I opened the message.
PLEASE TELL ME YOU AND THE BABY ARE SAFE.
Another message came thirty seconds later.
I'M NOT ASKING YOU TO COME HOME.
Another.
I JUST NEED TO KNOW YOU'RE SAFE.
I read those words three times.
Then I turned the phone face down.
Margaret watched me.
“You don't have to answer.”
“I know.”
“What are you thinking?”
I placed my hand over my stomach.
“That I don't know who he is anymore.”
Margaret looked at me.
“Maybe you finally do.”
I closed my eyes.
Outside, snow continued falling.
Neither Roman nor I knew it yet.
May you like
But the photograph that had destroyed our marriage was only the first piece of a much larger secret.
And before Christmas was over, I would discover that Claire Bennett wasn't the only woman who had been keeping something from me.
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