Chapter 4The Magician Who Stole Reality

I thrust my hand toward the security guard and the manager. "Look! Look at the ring!"

The Tiffany setting caught the fluorescent light of the office. "Ben put this on my finger tonight. Right there in Row F. This ring exists! That means he exists!"

The manager sighed and pointed back at the screen, rewinding the footage of me entering the theater.

"Ma'am, look at your hand as you hand the usher your ticket. You were wearing the ring when you walked in."

I stared at the grainy footage. My hand. The ring. It was already there.

My heart hammered against my ribs. That wasn't right. I knew I had it in my pocket. I knew he had placed it there.

The despair was a physical weight, crushing the breath out of me. But then I remembered the way Ben smiled. The way he smelled of old paper and peppermint. My love for him was a tether to reality.

"The footage is fake," I said, my voice deathly quiet. "I don't know how you did it, but it’s fake. My fiancé went missing in this building, and I’m not leaving until the police get here."

The police arrived shortly after. Captain Jack Dalton, a man with a face like granite, took my statement.

"Miss Miller, you're telling me a man vanished in a room full of witnesses, and not one of them—including the cameras—saw him?"

"I know how it sounds," I said, my voice trembling. "But he was there. His name is Ben Montgomery. Please, just find him."

Dalton looked at me with a mix of pity and professional exhaustion. "We’ve swept the building. We’ve checked every exit. We’ve verified the IDs of every attendee. There is no Ben Montgomery on the guest list. There is no Ben Montgomery in our database matching your description."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave. "Miss Miller, making a false police report is a crime. If this is a stunt, or a breakdown, you need to tell me now."

I was sweating, my mind racing. "It’s not a stunt! He exists!"

And then, I saw a familiar face through the glass of the office door.

It was the doctor. Dr. Whitlock.

I jumped up, pointing at him. "Him! He saw us! He checked my stomach outside the theater! He spoke to Ben!"

Dalton signaled for his officers to bring the man in. "Sir, did you encounter this woman earlier this evening?"

Whitlock nodded calmly. "Yes. I saw her outside. She seemed to be having a panic attack, complaining of abdominal pain. I checked her over as a courtesy."

I almost cried with relief. "Tell him! Tell him Ben was with me!"

Whitlock’s brow furrowed. He looked at me with a soft, clinical sadness.

"I remember you clearly, Cassidy. I remember because of that distinctive Tiffany ring you were wearing."

My heart soared—then plummeted.

"But you were alone," Whitlock said. "You were clutching your stomach and talking to the air as if someone were standing there. I assumed you were having a private episode. I certainly never saw a 'Ben'."

The light in the room seemed to dim. I collapsed back into the chair, the world spinning. Am I really crazy? Is he just a ghost of my imagination?

But then, a detail from Whitlock’s sentence snagged in my mind. A tiny, jagged edge of a lie.

I stood up slowly, my eyes locking onto the doctor's. "You’re sure I was alone? And you’re sure you remember me because of the ring?"

Whitlock nodded, looking puzzled. "Yes. It's a very beautiful piece."

I felt a cold, sharp smile spread across my face. I had him.

"Captain," I said, turning to Dalton. "I know exactly where my fiancé is."