Chapter 2The Warden Said I Died Already

Nathaniel and Hudson froze. A flicker of something—doubt, perhaps, or a sudden, icy dread—passed through Nathaniel’s eyes.

Before he could process the neighbor's words, his phone buzzed. It was Isabella.

"Nate, honey?" Her voice was a fragile, breathless whisper through the speaker. "I just got a text from a friend. Madeline’s brother is still working at the construction site in the city. Look, they sent a picture."

A photo popped up on his screen. It was Luke, covered in drywall dust, carrying a stack of plywood.

Hudson leaned over to look, his small face contorting with rage. "Mom is lying again! I hate her so much!"

Isabella let out a soft, pathetic sob over the line. "Nate... if we can't find her, just let it go. She hates me. I’d rather just... fade away quietly than cause her any more anger." She sniffled, the sound engineered to shatter hearts. "I just hate the thought of leaving you and Hudson behind. I'm so sorry for being a burden."

Nathaniel rubbed his temples, the veins in his neck bulging. His voice, however, softened into absolute devotion.

"Don't talk like that, Bella. You are not a burden. Wherever she’s hiding, I will drag her back and strap her to a hospital bed myself if I have to."

He glanced back at the burning house. "Her brother’s boss owes him money. He begged my firm to take his labor dispute case. She needs me. She won't be able to run for long. Just rest, sweetheart. I'll handle this."

Hanging up, Nathaniel placed a firm hand on Hudson’s shoulder and steered him toward the waiting SUV.

As they settled into the leather seats, Hudson pulled up an old news blog on his tablet. He stared at a tiny, buried headline, his eyes widening with a flash of genuine panic.

"Dad... this article says Mom is dead. Is it... is it real?"

Nathaniel barely glanced at the screen before letting out a scoff. "It's clickbait, Hudson. Cheap tabloid garbage. They write death hoaxes about minor public figures all the time to get views." He gripped the steering wheel. "Our priority is getting her back to the clinic. Your aunt doesn't have time for these childish games."

Hudson exhaled, the panic melting back into a hardened, betrayed anger. "When we find her, I'm going to make her apologize to Aunt Bella on her knees. It's sick to play dead when someone is actually dying."

I sat in the empty space between them, the phantom weight of my grief pressing down on me. I looked at the two men I had loved more than my own life, listening to them wrap their hearts around a monster.

They didn't know the truth about that photo. The back pay Luke had fought so hard for had finally been released by the courts—but Isabella had intercepted the settlement check through her wealthy connections. She used my brother's blood money to buy a limited-edition Birkin bag, leaving Luke unable to afford the spinal surgery he desperately needed.

During my five years behind bars, Isabella had paid off the guards. I was beaten in the laundry room, starved in solitary, and kept in a perpetual state of terror. My ribs had barely healed before they came to harvest my marrow.

When I finally took my last breath, my body discarded on a gurney like biomedical waste, my only thoughts were of my murdered daughter and my suffering brother.

I don't know the rules of the afterlife, or why my soul was tethered to the man who killed me. But I was trapped in this car, watching him spiral.

Nathaniel’s brow was deeply furrowed. He suddenly barked an order at his driver to turn around. They didn't head back to Dallas. Instead, they drove toward the Ivy League campus where I had once been a bright, ambitious law student.

He marched into the office of my former thesis advisor, Professor Higgins.

"Is she hiding here?" Nathaniel demanded, not bothering to knock. "Where is she? Are you harboring a convicted felon?"

The elderly professor looked up from her grading. Her face tightened with a mixture of disgust and profound sorrow. She stood up, grabbing the heavy wooden cane leaning against her desk, and pointed it at his chest.

"Madeline was blind to ever fall in love with a soulless vulture like you," Professor Higgins spat, her voice trembling with rage. "That girl was pure light. She wouldn't harm a fly, let alone her own child."

"She was a murderer," Nathaniel growled.

"You sent an innocent woman to a slaughterhouse!" the professor shouted, tears pooling in her wrinkled eyes. "You killed her! You don't even have the right to speak her name in this office. Get out!"

For a fraction of a second, watching the raw, unfeigned agony on the older woman’s face, Nathaniel faltered. A ghost of hesitation crossed his features.

But then the wall came back down. "You’re all in on it," he muttered, shaking his head. "You’re all covering for her. Well, tell her this: if she doesn't show up in three days, she can consider herself dead to me forever."

His phone rang again. Isabella.

"Nate!" she cried, her voice echoing with manufactured terror. "The doctor says my white blood cell count is plummeting. They need to prep for surgery. I'm so scared. When are you coming back?"

The hesitation vanished. Nathaniel’s eyes softened completely.

"I'm on my way, Bella. Hudson and I are coming right now. Hold on."