Chapter 27
“What the hell is this?” I growl, my voice echoing off the walls. I clench my fists in frustration as Josh tries to explain the situation to me. But his words are like a foreign language, and I can’t comprehend how any of this relates to my origin.
“Mathilda has been researching this for weeks,” Josh says, placing a hand on my shoulder as if that will calm me down. “She believes it all connects to you.”
Memories flash through my mind - the man who looked just like me, that hauntingly familiar voice. And then Stella, my dear wife, missing and possibly in danger. My blood boils with rage.
“Where is she?” I demand, turning to face whoever cleared their throat behind us.
“Mrs. Kral’s car is gone,” the man reports. “Someone used her card at an ATM and we’re reviewing security footage.”
I feel a surge of anger building up inside me. “What the hell does that mean? Is she safe or not?”
“We’re doing everything we can,” Josh assures me before walking away to make some calls.
But I can’t stand still and wait for updates. I need to do something - anything - to find Stella and bring her back to safety.
Gritting my teeth, I take a deep breath and try to think rationally. Mathilda has connections with the Feds, but I don’t want them taking control of this situation. Not yet, at least.
My mind races with possibilities as I try to come up with a plan. Whoever tried to kill me must have taken Stella - it’s the only explanation that makes sense. And whoever they are, they’ll soon realize they messed with the wrong person.
I won’t let them hurt her. I won’t lose her again.
The thought of Stella being injured or scared fuels me with a fierce determination. A fire burns within me, pushing me forward to take action.
I can’t fail her. I won’t fail her.
As Josh continues to make calls, I pace back and forth, my mind consumed with thoughts of Stella. Every second feels like an eternity as I wait for any news.
But deep down, I know that whoever has given me a second chance at life must have plans to do the same for Stella. They wouldn’t bring me back just to take her away from me again.
I cling onto that sliver of hope, my fists clenched tight as fear and worry gnaw at my insides. My resolve never faltering, I refuse to lose her. I’ll go to the ends of the earth to find her and bring her back to where she belongs - in my arms, in our home.
With a heavy thud, I collapse onto the worn loveseat in the dimly lit living room. My elbows dig into my knees and my head hangs low in my hands. I catch sight of the glistening gold band that now adorns her finger, placed there by that bastard who dared to lay claim to what is mine. Next to it lies a legal pad, filled with hastily scribbled notes from Stella. A map detailing the route she took before her disappearance catches my eye.
My mind races as I piece together the clues and formulate a plan. With determination coursing through my veins, I make a mental note to have a word with my mother about not only her blatant interference in my marriage but also about this supposed brother and stolen life.
In the business world, I am known for being ruthless yet fair. My reputation is immaculate, which has propelled me to great heights. My investors trust me because they know that in every deal I make, everyone comes out a winner.
But now, this theory that someone wants me dead over personal vendettas seems absurd. And to top it off, apparently I have supposedly stolen someone’s life? It doesn’t make sense, yet here I am, grappling with this unfamiliar reality.
Gathering myself, I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find my mother’s number. I must extract crucial information about my past before confronting her about her meddling ways. Every word I speak must be carefully chosen.
“Son,” she answers on the second ring, “how was the party last night? You’re calling me so early, I didn’t expect to hear from you today.”
She knows exactly why I’m calling.
“Listen,” I cut her off, not in the mood for small talk or reminiscing about the party. “Do you remember if there was anyone else like me at the orphanage where I was adopted?”
I can hear her gasp on the other end of the line.
“It was an orphanage, Lionel,” she begins. “Of course there were other children like you there.”
Either she doesn’t understand me or I’m not explaining myself well enough.
“Do you know if I had a brother or any close relatives?” I get straight to the point.
“What? Of course not,” she replies, clearly taken aback. My mother has no clue what I’m getting at. “That’s why we ended up adopting you from that place. Your father and I were desperate to have a child of our own. After pulling every string we could, our lawyer recommended that specific orphanage. And when we met you—a charming boy with big brown eyes who sang The Bird and danced and never stopped talking—we knew we had found our son.”
There’s something fishy here. As a child, I never remember being particularly adept at seeking attention or being chatty. In fact, I had to learn how to sing just to loosen my tongue…
“But now that you say it,” my mother says after a few seconds of silence. “Anton and I were very concerned when a week later, we went to pick you up and you looked like someone else. Somewhere you lost that energy. You came to us withdrawn, locked up in yourself, and you know well what we had to overcome so that you could speak smoothly. At that time we thought it was because of the changes, but now that you say it… Lionel … what’s going on? Why are you asking me all these strange questions?”
I sigh before answering, it’s best to be careful, at least for now. I don’t want to upset my mother’s nerves in case this doesn’t lead anywhere.
“Don’t worry, it’s just that I feel inquisitive today.”
Closing my eyes for a moment, I can imagine her flattening her mouth into a thin line. My mother knows me well and knows that I’m lying.
“Now, I want you to tell me why you helped Stella get out of the house last night?”
She makes a sound that sounds like she’s half coughing, half gasping. She knows that I’ve asked her directly because I have the information in hand.
I’m not a man who launches accusations without proof.
“You’re my son,” she offers those words as an explanation. But they are not enough, in no way can they ever be.
“And I’m also an adult who can make his own decisions.”
I’ve always been careful not to go public with my personal life, because I don’t like the idea of strangers poking their noses into my affairs.
“She wanted to leave,” she babbles, she wants to convince me that this is true. “I just made it easier for her.”
No, dear mother, you aren ’ t going to get out of this so easily.
“And that’s why you helped her get out before I could talk to her, that’s why you bought two tickets so I couldn’t track her that easily.”
Again she gasps, she has no escape. I caught her.
“I told her and now I’m going to tell you,” she snaps, her voice full of arrogance. “You can’t blame me for trying to protect my son. You’re the only thing I have.”
Those words make my blood boil, how dare she?
“And she’s my life, Mom, my whole world. Now I can’t find her, and I’m afraid she’s in danger.”
She makes a noise of outrage.
“Surely she will be at her house in that town enjoying the money they paid her to become your wife.”
Smoke is coming out of my ears. Indignant, I put the phone away before answering.
“I’m in Carrollton and Stella is missing,” I tell her. I want my mother to learn the consequences of her actions. “We don’t know if whoever attacked me has her.”
I’m sure that statement has stolen her breath, because for a few seconds she says nothing, until she clears her throat. “She must be hiding, like the dirty rat she is.”
Because of the respect I have for my mother, my love and gratitude for her I swallow everything I want to tell her. My father flashes in my mind, how a man treats his family says a lot about him. And although I’m going mad with anguish, I’m not a jerk.
“We’ll talk later.”
“Lionel… Son…” I don’t want to hear any more excuses. I finish the call by letting myself fall on my back on the sofa looking at the ceiling. My head is about to burst, and this pain in my chest is not receding.
And I know it won’t until I see her again.
Stella, what am I going to do without you?
I remember her in the kitchen at home, leaning over the counter studying. Her full attention on the sheet in front of her, while gently tapping her lips with a pencil.
Again being the operative word here.
There has to be hope, there has to be. I’ve fought other battles and have been victorious, but this is so screwed up, because it doesn’t just depend on how much I want to achieve it.
Nothing is impossible . I heard her say those words many times, making them her own. Now they are mine too.
There are no impossibilities when you really want to achieve something you want.
And what I want is her.
“We have the videos,” one of the men Josh announces as soon as he enters the house.
He plugs something into the flat screen TV in front of us and Stella’s images appear on the screen. She’s wearing a T-shirt and one of those long skirts that she likes so much. She looks exhausted, devastated, and as beautiful as ever. I can see it even though the images are grainy.
“She loaded gasoline at the station that is a few blocks from here, in that same location she bought a few bottles of water and withdraw money from the ATM, the same account in her mother’s name, about four hours ago.”
Four hours of disadvantage. Many people could say that time is just the blink of an eye, but it’s too long. In four hours so many things could happen. Four hours means at least two hundred miles, and with each minute that distance grows bigger, increasing exponentially.
In the videos from inside the convenience store behind the gas station, she appears agitated, but not coerced by anyone else. Then she goes out, loads up gasoline and is alone in her truck.
At least that’s good news, she left of her own free will, not because someone forced her to.
Is it though?
The thing is, there are still a lot of questions that need to be answered, damn, I need those answers like yesterday. She deserves them too.
“We can’t report the truck as stolen. We don’t want to sound off alarms, but we can monitor whether it’s being fined for speeding or something like that.”
Which means waiting, which I hate having to do. This fucking helplessness is going to drive me crazy.
“We are doing everything possible. She could be anywhere. We are monitoring airports, but it’s difficult to do it at train or bus stations. I’m sorry I don’t have any more information at the moment. You can be sure we’ll find her, it’s just a matter of time.”
Time, the enemy that taunts me as Stella remains missing, possibly injured or worse.
Feeling helpless and on the brink of falling apart, I force myself to go for a walk. The same tuxedo pants from the party cling to my legs, squeezing my muscles with every step. I’ve rolled up my sleeves, but even the white shirt feels constricting, as if it has shrunk two sizes since this nightmare began.
I wander aimlessly through the unfamiliar town in the dead of night. This slow and agonizing torture is unbearable. If only I could build a bridge to wherever she is and bring her back to safety. Back to me.
I want to build stronger foundations, contrary to what I did when we were in Los Angeles. So my decision is made, the first thing I have to do is talk to Lorraine, Stella’s mother. I have to start clearing the air, and it would also be good for her to be on my side. Stella will surely get in touch with her at some point.
“We’ve already located most of your wife’s family and friends, Mr. Kral,” Sanders tells me as soon as I enter the house. Josh is nowhere to be seen. “We’re organizing surveillance in case your wife decides to seek refuge with them.”
I give him a somewhat distracted nod. I’m sure Stella has chosen another destination. My girl is smart, and a perfectionist. If she wants to hide, she won’t make it easy for us to find her.
When the sun comes through the window, I’m downright exhausted. I’ve hardly slept more than a few hours on the sofa, but I’m ready to continue with the plan that I’ve outlined for today.
Somehow Josh has managed to get me a suitcase with some clothes, so I take a long shower. The hot water is a blessing for my aching muscles. Especially the shoulder, which has started to bother me. None of this is important. I’ll go see my doctor when we return to Los Angeles because I’m positive we will. Together.
My Stella and me.
My Hvězda. I miss you, baby.
Feeling a little more human, I get into the van they have arranged for me to use, accompanied by two security men, heading to my mother-in-law’s house.
Lorraine Lambert opens the door and stares at me with wide eyes, then a slow smile appears on her face.
“Mr. Kral,” she squeals, putting her hands to her chest and giving me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “What a wonderful surprise.”
Mr. Kral? Isn’t that a little too formal?
“Good morning,” I reply, not knowing how to refer to her. At the end of the day, this is the first time we’ve seen each other. “And it’s Lionel.”
She smiles and I see relief in her eyes. She’s a mature version of my wife, the same blue eyes and slim build, although Stella is taller.
“Has Stella come with you?” she asks looking for her daughter as if she were hiding behind my body.
“I would like to talk to you about that. May I come in?”
Those words leave her breathless for a couple of minutes until she seems to compose herself and apologizes. She opens the door wider, inviting me to go into a small living room.
The house is old but well cared for, and like Stella’s place is meticulously clean and feels like home, you can feel a loving family lives here. There are pictures everywhere, the house smells of fresh coffee and something else. That makes me smile and the feeling of longing in my chest deepens. That’s what Stella did when she got to the cavern I lived in, turned it into a home.
Yes, I built it, but the one who gave it true meaning was her. Only her.
Lorraine, as she said I should call her, starts crying as soon as she hears the account of what has happened. From what I’ve discovered in the past few weeks.
“My daughter is innocent,” she cries, thick tears rolling down her cheeks. She does it in a heartbreaking way, I can’t help but imagine Stella doing the same. Damn, this isn’t getting any easier. “You can’t take her to jail. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
She can be sure I feel the same, what I want is precisely to protect her. “I must find her, Lorraine. If they get to her first, then I’m afraid something very bad may happen.”
“We should call Felicia,” she says, wiping her cheeks with the disposable handkerchief in her hands. “If Stella is going to contact someone, it will definitely be her. They are very close, you know?”
I’m proud to say that I know that about her. When we were together, all those days while I was recovering from my injuries we had time to talk, to get to know each other. I treasure each of those moments, they are precious to me. Since then I carry my wife burned into my soul. That’s the place where she belongs, because she has made it her home.
Felicia Lambert-Haralson is Stella’s father’s sister and a force of nature. As soon as she enters the house she glares at me. I’m positive my wife trusted her with the problems she had with me since the wedding. I know I’m not her favorite person in the world.
I start my story again. At some point Felicia gets up from her place on the sofa next to Lorraine to slap me.
“He deserves it so badly,” she yells after Lorraine gasps her name.
Regretfully, I hate to admit that she’s right.
“There’s something else,” I tell them. “Shortly after getting married, Stella transferred a significant amount of money to an account that she manages but is under your name, Lorraine. Do you know where that money came from?”
Lorraine looks at me with wide eyes, not blinking. Her brain has short-circuited.
Felicia is the one who breaks the heavy silence that fills the room. “She doesn’t know, but I do. I gave that money to her.”
The news has taken Lorraine by surprise, her reaction can’t be faked. Those blue eyes, so much like Stella’s, don’t hide a thing, they’re too expressive.
“But, Felicia, where did you get it from if we barely have money to pay the bills?”
This pair seems very close, they bicker like sisters.
“It’s the money that the insurance company paid out after my brother passed away,” she begins to explain, moving her hands a lot, but her eyes are fixed on mine. She’s very sure of every syllable that leaves her mouth. “Lorraine has no brain for money.” Those words earn her a hard look. “Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.” She pauses to give my mother-in-law the stink eye. “And Stella was just a little girl, so I started the claim process and took care of keeping the money in an account. After she married the other man, I thought she wanted to buy a house, so I withdrew the money, I put it in a box, and wrapped it as a gift. I thought that they would be delighted with the news, but Stella told me what was happening between you, we talked about it for a long time. We decided that it was best to put it in Lorraine’s account, after all it’s my niece who handles everything.”
There it is, I knew there was a logical explanation. Something deep inside was shouting that my Stella couldn’t have been part of this macabre plot.
When she showed me her love, it was because she really felt it.
Damn, it sucks to think about the past. I hope that my mistakes have not ended our future.
“So,” I say after we have talked for another forty minutes, I’ve also asked them questions about the hive. It’s an important topic for Stella, so it’s also for me. We’re already walking toward the door. “Will you tell me if Stella contacts you?”
“I don’t know, Lionel Kral.” It’s Felicia who takes the floor, Lorraine has let her be her spokesperson. “Tell me why I should trust you right now? How can I be sure it isn’t another deception?”
“Because you love Stella and want the best for her, just like me.” That’s the whole truth. I can’t give them a better reason than that.
“Trust takes time, Lionel Kral.”
In those words I seem to be listening to my wife’s voice.
“Well, I plan to stay close enough to earn it,” I reply before turning and walking toward the door.
As I walk away, I can almost be sure that I’ve seen Aunt Felicia smile.