Chapter 3: The Woman He Was Searching For
I read Claire’s message three times before I understood that my hands were shaking.
*You need to know why Callum was searching for you before he ever met you.*
Searching for me.
Those two words felt impossible.
People searched for missing relatives.
People searched for criminals.
People searched for answers.
They didn’t search for someone they had never met.
Not unless there was a reason.
I looked at the investigation report again.
My name stared back at me.
*Subject: Emma Hayes.*
The woman in the photographs was me.
The apartment was mine.
The coffee shop was the same place where Callum and I first spoke.
But the question that kept repeating in my mind was the one I couldn’t escape.
Why?
Why me?
I picked up my phone and called Claire.
She answered before the first ring finished.
“Emma.””
Her voice sounded tired.
Not surprised.
Like she had been waiting for this call.
“You knew I would find it.””
There was a pause.
“Yes.””
My throat tightened.
“You knew?””
“Emma, listen to me—”
“No.””
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
“You don’t get to tell me to listen. I woke up this morning as Callum’s wife, and now I’m sitting here looking at a report showing my husband was investigating me before we met.””
Claire went silent.
Then she whispered:
“I know how this looks.””
“How it looks?””
I stood up and started pacing.
“Claire, there are pictures of me walking to work. There are pictures of my apartment. Someone wrote notes about my daily routine.””
“I know.””
“Who did this?””
Another silence.
And that silence told me everything.
“You know who did it.””
Claire exhaled slowly.
“Yes.””
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Tell me.””
“Emma…”
“Tell me.””
Her voice cracked.
“It was Callum.””
I closed my eyes.
Even though I already knew, hearing it said out loud made it real.
My husband.
The man who knew my coffee order.
The man who knew my fears.
The man who held me while I cried after my father’s funeral.
He had been watching me before he knew me.
“Why?”” I asked.
Claire didn’t answer immediately.
“I think you should hear that from him.””
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I didn’t know what else to do.
“He had four years to tell me.””
“I know.””
“He married me yesterday.””
“I know.””
“He said we don’t keep secrets.””
Claire’s voice became softer.
“Emma, there are things about Callum you don’t understand.””
I looked at the document again.
“No. I understand enough.””
“You don’t.””
The certainty in her voice stopped me.
“What does that mean?””
Claire hesitated.
Then she said:
“It means Callum didn’t start looking for you because he wanted to hurt you.””
“Then why?””
“Because he thought you were the only person who could answer what happened to his mother.””
I froze.
“What?””
The silence that followed felt enormous.
“His mother?”” I repeated.
“Yes.””
I sat back down.
Callum rarely talked about his mother.
I knew she had passed away when he was young.
I knew it was painful.
But he always described it simply.
A tragic accident.
A painful memory.
Something from the past.
I never pushed.
Because he told me he would talk about it when he was ready.
“Claire,” I whispered, “what does his mother have to do with me?””
“I don’t know everything.””
“You’re his sister.””
“I know.””
“Then what do you know?””
Claire was quiet for a moment.
Then she said:
“My mother left us a letter before she died.””
I felt my heartbeat slow.
“What kind of letter?””
“One with your name in it.””
I stopped breathing.
“My name?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“I don’t know.””
The answer made me angry.
“You’re telling me Callum found my name in a letter from his dead mother, and instead of telling me, he followed me?””
“He didn’t know who you were.””
“That doesn’t make it better.””
“I know.””
Claire sounded like she was crying.
“Emma, you have to understand something. Callum spent years believing his mother’s death wasn’t an accident.””
I looked toward the window.
Outside, people were walking through the hotel lobby.
Laughing.
Carrying luggage.
Living normal lives.
My life no longer felt normal.
“What happened to her?””
Claire lowered her voice.
“She was involved in something before she died.””
“What?””
“I don’t know.””
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
“I’m telling you the truth.””
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Why did he think I was connected?””
Claire didn’t answer.
Not right away.
And when she finally spoke, I knew the answer would change everything.
“Because your mother was the last person who saw his mother alive.””
My entire body went still.
“My mother?””
“Yes.””
“That’s impossible.””
“Is it?””
I hated that question.
Because suddenly, I wasn’t sure.
I thought about my childhood.
My mother never talked about the years before I was born.
She avoided certain conversations.
Certain names.
Certain memories.
I always assumed it was because she was private.
But now…
Now I wondered if she was hiding something too.
“Emma,” Claire said softly.
I barely heard her.
“Your mother knows more than she ever told you.””
I ended the call.
Not because I was angry at Claire.
Because I couldn’t handle one more piece of my life becoming a lie.
An hour later, Callum knocked on the door.
I knew it was him before he spoke.
I knew the rhythm of his knock.
That was the worst part.
I knew him.
I knew him so well.
“Emma.””
I didn’t answer.
“Please open the door.””
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the photograph.
The old photograph.
The one that started everything.
“Please.””
His voice broke.
I hated that it still affected me.
I walked to the door.
But I didn’t open it.
“Did you know?””
The hallway became silent.
Then:
“Yes.””
I closed my eyes.
“Did you know who I was before we met?””
“Yes.””
The honesty hurt more than a lie.
Because now I knew.
He wasn’t going to deny it.
“Why?””
A long pause.
Then he said:
“Because of my mother.””
I leaned against the door.
“Claire told me.””
Another silence.
“Emma…”
“No.””
My voice shook.
“You don’t get to say my name like that and make everything okay.””
“I know.””
“You investigated me.””
“I know.””
“You followed me.””
“I know.””
“Were you going to tell me?””
Silence.
That was the answer.
My eyes filled with tears.
“When?””
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“I don’t know.””
I opened the door.
Only a few inches.
Callum stood there looking nothing like the confident man I married.
He looked exhausted.
Broken.
Like he had been carrying something heavy for years.
But I wasn’t ready to forgive him.
Not yet.
“Start from the beginning.””
He looked at me.
“My mother’s name was Evelyn.””
I said nothing.
“When she died, she left behind a box of things. Letters. Photos. Documents.””
He swallowed.
“One of those letters had your name.””
“Why?””
“I didn’t know.””
“Then why search for me?””
“Because I needed answers.””
I stared at him.
“Did you find me by accident?””
His expression changed.
“No.””
The word was quiet.
But certain.
My chest tightened.
“How?””
He looked down.
Then he said something I never expected.
“Because your mother contacted me first.””
The world seemed to stop.
“My mother?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“Three months before I met you.””
I stepped back.
“What did she say?””
Callum’s eyes filled with regret.
“She told me to stay away from you.””
My blood ran cold.
“Why?””
He looked at me.
And this time, I saw real fear.
Not fear of losing me.
Fear of what I was about to learn.
“Because she knew what happened to my mother.””
A knock suddenly came from the end of the hallway.
Both of us turned.
A hotel employee stood there holding a large envelope.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“Is Emma Hayes here?””
I frowned.
“Yes.””
The woman handed me the envelope.
“There was no sender.””
My fingers tightened around it.
Callum looked at the envelope.
And his face changed instantly.
“What?””
He stepped closer.
“Emma, don’t open that.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
May you like
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Because that’s the same envelope my mother received the night before she died.””
