1 The night Gavin’s parents were taken, he was walking out the door—not to save them, but to go camping with her. I didn’t stop him. I just called 911. In my last life, I begged him to stay. He saved his parents, but Lily was killed by a wild animal on her trip. After that, he never spoke to me again. On the day I was due to give birth, he drove me into the wilderness and left me there. “If it weren’t for you,” he said coldly, “Lily would still be alive.” He watched as beasts tore me apart. I woke up screaming, soaked in cold sweat, my body aching with phantom pain. Trembling, I checked my phone. The date confirmed it: I was back. Reborn on the day his parents were kidnapped. In a few moments, the phone would ring. The kidnappers would demand five million dollars in cash, to be delivered in thirty minutes. Any delay, and they’d kill them. Gavin and I were a story written by our parents. Childhood friends, a match made by our families before we even knew what it meant. Whether it was for the sake of our family empires or for the sake of my own foolish heart, I was always meant to be his wife. I knew about his ex, Lily. Their relationship was a passionate flame his parents had worked hard to extinguish. Before our wedding, I’d looked him in the eyes and asked him if this was what he truly wanted. If he was marrying me because he loved me. He said yes. To both. So I walked down the aisle with a heart full of hope. After the wedding, he was a ghost in our home—distant, cold, his texts and calls with her a constant, secret hum in the background. I chose to be blind and deaf to it all, swallowing my pain in silence. I loved him. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, of watching my marriage crumble. A choice that cost me my life, and the life of my unborn child. But this time would be different. This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake. I watched him jog down the stairs, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. I slowly pushed myself up from the sofa. Our eyes met, and his gaze was like ice. "I'm not coming home tonight," he said, the words clipped and final. I didn't answer. My eyes were fixed on the landline phone on the end table. Right on cue, it began to ring. I snatched it up and hit the speakerphone button. A distorted voice crackled through the line. "We have Richard and Helen Thorne. Five million in cash. Thirty minutes. Westwood Plaza. You call the cops, they're dead." Gavin heard every word. He merely frowned, a flicker of annoyance crossing his handsome features, before letting out a short, derisive laugh. "Really, Elara? Is this fun for you?" he sneered. "Getting my parents to play along with this pathetic little drama?" I looked at his face, the same face that had watched me die, and the love I'd nurtured for over a decade turned to ash. "You heard the call, Gavin. What you do next is your decision. I'm staying out of it," I said, my voice eerily calm. "If you want to believe it's a performance, fine. But I'm telling you, this isn't a game." Perhaps the sheer lack of emotion in my voice gave him pause. He hesitated for a heartbeat. But only a heartbeat. Then he turned and strode out the door without another word. Last time, he’d reacted the same way, convinced it was a ploy to keep him home. But I knew it was real, and I had thrown myself in his path, screaming and crying until he’d finally relented. He’d joined the search, and his parents were saved. But by the time he returned, it was with the news of Lily's death. And all the blame landed squarely on my shoulders. The moment the front door clicked shut, I dialed 911. Five million in cash wasn't something I could produce in half an hour. Besides, there was no guarantee they’d release his parents even if I paid. This was a job for professionals. The dispatcher said a car was on its way from the local precinct. But before they arrived, my cell phone rang. It was an old friend of Gavin's from the police academy. "Elara? It's Mark. You and Gavin having a fight?" I frowned. "What's this about, Mark?" "Look, I just got the dispatch. We're buddies and all, but filing a false report is a big deal. I get you're fighting with Gavin, but you can't pull stunts like this. He and Lily are just friends. You keep this up, you're just making him a laughingstock." It took me a second to process what he was saying. "What are you talking about? Did Gavin tell you I filed a false report?" Silence on the other end. I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Mark, I'm giving you one chance. Get your ass over here and do your job, or my next call is to Internal Affairs to report an officer obstructing a kidnapping investigation." He scoffed. "Don't treat everyone like they're Gavin, Elara, ready to jump at your command. I'm not your family's private security." His voice dripped with contempt. "You're not worth a single strand of Lily's hair." I hung up. Then I dialed 911 again, reported the kidnapping a second time, and formally filed a complaint against Officer Mark for dereliction of duty. A different pair of officers arrived fifteen minutes later. They were professional, their faces grim as I explained the situation and played the recording of the first call. They immediately ran a trace on the number, but it came back as a burner, already disconnected. All we could do was wait for the kidnappers to call again. While the police set up, I was on the phone with my financial advisor. "How much liquid cash can I access right now?" "Two-point-three million? Get it ready. All of it." Next, I called Gavin's uncle, David. The moment I mentioned the kidnapping, he gasped. "Who would do such a thing? Is Gavin there?" "He's gone camping with Lily," I said flatly. "Uncle David, they're demanding five million. I can't cover it all myself. Can you help me? I'll pay you back within a week." "Don't be ridiculous, child, this is for my brother! We're family. How much are you short?" "Two-point-seven million." "Don't worry. I'll get it." The thirty minutes evaporated in a haze of adrenaline and fear. The phone rang again. I answered, a tech expert beside me trying desperately to get a location trace. He quickly shook his head. No luck. My stomach plummeted. The voice on the other end was sharp, impatient. "Time's up. Where's the money?" "I don't have it all yet," I pleaded. "Please, just give me a little more time. My husband isn't here, I don't have access to that much cash on my own." "I told you what would happen if the money wasn't there!" "Please, don't hurt them! You want money, right? Killing them won't get you paid. It's a lose-lose. Give me another half hour. I swear I'll have the money." As soon as I finished speaking, a muffled, gut-wrenching scream echoed through the phone—my mother-in-law. The kidnapper's voice returned, laced with chilling amusement. "Half an hour. For every minute you're late, I take a finger. You want to stall? Be my guest." The line went dead. Just then, a pale-faced Officer Mark appeared in the doorway. He’d clearly overheard the call. "Gavin called me..." he stammered, avoiding my eyes. "He said... he said his parents were just helping you with an act to keep him home..." I was too drained to even respond. One of the other officers spoke up. "Call him back. Now. Tell him what you just heard." Mark nodded, fumbling for his phone. He dialed, but after a moment, shook his head. "Busy." I thought of my mother-in-law, Helen. She was so delicate; a paper cut was a major incident. I couldn't imagine the agony she was in. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I tried calling David again. His line was also busy. A minute later, he called me back. But before I could ask about the money, he sighed heavily. "Elara, child, it's not right of you to play with an old man's heart like this. I know my brother and his wife spoil you, but this is too much. I just spoke to Gavin. Thank God he told me the truth before I had a heart attack." The world tilted on its axis. My blood ran cold. "Gavin told you it was an act?" I asked, my voice hollow. "Uncle, I don't care if you don't believe me, but can you reach my in-laws right now? Can you? Because the police are standing right here in my living room." He just sighed again. "Gavin has someone else in his heart. Child, maybe it's time to let him go. Just divorce him. It would be a release for you both." He hung up. At the same time, Mark finally got through to Gavin. "Gavin, man, you need to get back here," Mark said urgently. "I think... I think your parents might really have been kidnapped." The voice that answered wasn't Gavin's. It was the syrupy-sweet voice of Lily. "Oh, Mark! You're playing along with Elara's little game too? How sweet. Gavin's just grilling some steaks, let me get him for you." We heard her muffled voice relaying the message. Gavin never even took the phone. His reply was distant but clear. "Just hang up. That psycho will do anything for attention." The call ended. Mark looked at me, his brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and dawning horror. I let out a bitter, shaky laugh. "I have no idea what to do," I admitted to the officers, my gaze empty. "But they want the money at Westwood Plaza. It's not the full amount, but I have to go. If I act as bait... does that increase your chances of catching them?" A female officer stepped forward. "Ma'am, let me go in your place." I managed a weak smile. "What if they know what I look like? Your presence would blow the whole operation. I'll be the one to deliver it. You can all provide cover from the outside." With no other leads, they agreed to my plan. When the kidnapper called again, I lied, telling them I had the full amount. "Just tell me where to bring it. We can do the exchange. My money for my in-laws." The man on the other end let out a cold laugh. "Sure," he said, his tone making the hairs on my arm stand up. A wave of dread washed over me. "Wait," I said quickly before he could hang up. "I want to hear their voices. I need to know they're okay." "Why the rush, Mrs. Thorne? You'll be seeing them very soon." He disconnected. My financial advisor delivered the cash. I dragged the heavy suitcase to the designated spot in the plaza. My phone rang again. A new location. "Go to the underground parking garage. They're waiting for you there." I didn't care about the money anymore; I knew the police had it covered. I just ran. I sprinted toward the parking garage, my heart hammering against my ribs. I found my mother-in-law's sedan. The driver's side door was hanging open like a broken jaw. Their throats had been cut. Blood, so much blood, was still pooling on the leather seats, spilling onto the concrete floor. A choked sob escaped my lips as I stumbled forward, my legs threatening to give out. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slick with sweat, and dialed 911. "Westwood Plaza... underground parking... two people... their throats..." I grabbed their hands. They were so cold. "Mom, Dad, hold on. Please, just hold on. The ambulance is coming." My voice was a frantic whisper. "I'm calling Gavin. I'll get him here right now." They both looked at me, their eyes fading, and weakly shook their heads. "Elara..." Helen rasped, a bloody bubble forming on her lips. "After we're gone... divorce him. Our shares... the house... the funds... it's all yours... I'm so sorry..." "No," I choked out, tears blurring my vision. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It's my fault. I didn't get the money fast enough..." "It's not... your fault..." Richard whispered, his breath shallow. "They never... intended to let us live." I kept dialing Gavin's number, over and over. It rang and rang, unanswered. I sent him a text. Gavin, Mom and Dad are hurt. Badly. Get back here. Now. The message sat there, unread. Stone-cold silence. I kept calling. Kept texting. I didn't stop until I watched the last spark of life leave their eyes. The paramedics arrived, but it was too late. There was nothing to save. I tried to stand, but the world spun violently and went black. I grabbed the car door to steady myself, and a firm hand took my arm. It was one of the officers. "Mrs. Thorne," she said, her voice gentle but strained. "They didn't take the money. We had a team move in on the pickup man, but he fell from a height during the pursuit. He's in critical condition, unconscious." She paused, her grip tightening slightly. "I am so, so sorry for your loss." We spent the rest of the night at the station. Everyone was on edge. After I gave my statement, the forensics team began their work. They knew there was more than one kidnapper, and with only one in custody—and in a coma at that—the pressure was immense. This was a brutal, high-profile case, and they were determined to bring the killers to justice. As the first light of dawn broke, I finally left the station and called the funeral home.
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