Chapter 8
Emma
In my nightmare, I fight for my life.
But when my eyes flutter open, there’s no one around but me.
Head throbbing, I sit up out of bed, ready for a mug of tea and a shower that will hopefully clear my brain fog.
But the events of the last few hours slam into me one by one, and I realize that it’s not my bed I’m in—and the panic kicks right back in.
Heart racing, I throw the covers aside and jump out of the plush four-poster bed, complete with what I used to call fairy-tale curtains surrounding it. The room I’m in is huge. As in presidential-suite-at-a luxury-hotel huge.
This is all wrong.
The carpet is red with golden flowers—a relatively obnoxious pattern that makes my already throbbing headache intensify. The walls are covered in cream-colored wallpaper with light golden swirls. There’s a nightstand, a dresser, and a door that leads to an adjoining bathroom.
Where am I? Where did he take me?
I rush toward the door first, but when the handle won’t turn, I head for the window and throw the curtains aside.
An audible gasp leaves my lips when I find myself staring down at waves crashing into jagged rocks.
I’m at least three floors up and on a coast somewhere.
But where? I don’t remember ever leaving Texas, and I certainly don’t recall any part of the Lone Star State looking like this.
Then again, given that I can’t swim, I tend to avoid water vacations.
Unsure what else to do, I rummage through the drawers and closet, searching the room for a weapon.
Anything I can use to defend myself against the liar who brought me here.
Brother. How could I have been so stupid?
I let him into my house. I went against my better judgment and ignored the fact that it was creepy that he tracked down where I live.
But, hey, I just invited him right on in, didn’t I? All because of the picture and a pretty story about how I had a family out there that wanted me.
That photograph could have been of anyone, and I fell right into his hands because I’m so desperate not to be alone.
So desperate, in fact, that I forgot that I’m not alone. I have people who love me. People who care about me. Tears fill my eyes, and my throat constricts. Will I ever see them again?
God, where am I?
Muffled voices sound outside the door, so I rush back toward the bed and lift the closest thing I can find—an ornate lamp that probably cost more than my entire collection of furniture. It’s heavy, so at least I know it’ll do some damage if he gets close to me.
Seconds later, a lock clicks, and the door is pushed open.
“You,” I growl as Mattheus steps into the room. He smiles at me, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he kidnapped me.
“I am so sorry for what I had to do to get you here, dear sister. But time was of the essence, and I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
“Sister? I am not your sister. You lied to me. Who even are you?”
“I’m—” He glances away from me to someone standing just out of sight of the doorway. I can’t quite see whoever he’s looking at, but his expression turns serious as he nods and moves toward the side of the room. “I think our father can explain things better.”
A second man walks into the room. He’s tall and middle-aged—his hair already turning a salt-and-pepper gray at the temples.
His eyes are soft blue, and when he smiles at me, he seems almost genuinely delighted.
But there’s something there—something about him that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Probably the fact that he had a hand in my kidnapping.
“My dearest Gwendolyn,” he says softly. “It is you. You’re the spitting image of your mother.”
I stare at him, unsure how to respond. Mattheus showed me the gravestone with Gwendolyn written across the cool stone, so the name isn’t a surprise. But am I really going to believe him?
Am I really going to believe that the guy who kidnapped me is my brother?
“I’m sorry.” The man presses both hands to his heart. “You are Emmaline now. I’m just so thrilled to see you.” Tears fill his eyes, and he takes a step closer. “Mattheus is your brother,” he says. “And I’m Gio Karver. Your—” He trails off, as though he needs to catch his breath. “Your father.”
“My father.” I look from him to Mattheus, who is smiling proudly as he watches the entire exchange. “I don’t believe you. What kind of brother kidnaps his sister?”
“It’s the truth. I told you, time was of the essence.” Mattheus reaches into his pocket and withdraws his cell phone. “And while you were sleeping, I took the liberty of swabbing your cheek for your DNA. Which I had run against mine. I have the proof here if you want to see it.”
“While I was sleeping? You mean, while I was under the effects of whatever you used to drug me? Why would I want to see it?” I demand.
“You kidnapped me! For all I know, it could be fake!” My hand tightens around the lamp, though I’m not entirely sure who I should throw it at first, given they’re both blocking my only exit.
“You drugged her? Mattheus, you said she wanted to meet us,” Gio snaps, turning toward Mattheus, who visibly pales. “That she was excited and came willingly.”
“No. None of that is true,” I snap. “Well, the meeting part might have been if I’d been given time to actually process the news that I had a family out there.”
“She seemed excited to meet all of us. And after the fight she had with her boyfriend, I assumed she was going to delay things. With Momma in the state that she’s in, I didn’t want to wait too long. I truly am sorry, Emmaline. What I gave you was a natural sedative. Nothing too strong.”
“Are you even listening to yourself?” I snap.
“Please, Emmaline, give us a chance to explain,” Gio urges.
“And please do not tell your mother how you were brought here. I fear she won’t be able to handle it.
We can absolutely do another DNA test if you’d like.
This one while you’re alert and consenting.
” His tone is so strained that I narrow my gaze on him, trying to read the situation as best I can.
How would one of the Hunts take this?
What would they do?
Truthfully, I have no idea. I’m a kindergarten teacher, not a trained soldier. One thing is certain though. Right now, I am out of my element. I’m nowhere near my home, friends, or anyone who can help me. Which means pretending to play ball might just be my only chance at surviving this.
So I take a deep, steadying breath. Lord, help me, please.
“What do you mean ‘in the state that she’s in’?” I look to Mattheus. “That’s what you said, right?”
Gio clears his throat. “Your mother, Felicity, has been inconsolable since we discovered you were alive. She blames herself for losing you.”
“Mattheus said I was kidnapped by a nurse in the hospital.”
“You were. While you were in the nursery. Your mother had a difficult pregnancy that left her unable to have any more children after you. While she was recovering, the nurse offered to take you to the nursery so she could sleep. She agreed, and that was the last we ever saw you alive.”
“Alive. Meaning you saw a baby you thought was me.”
“From a distance,” he explains. “Neither of us could bring ourselves to get any closer. Something I blame myself for. If I had just been strong enough, then maybe I would have noticed something and realized that baby wasn’t you.
That you were still alive.” He trails off.
“But you’re here now, my darling daughter.
And look at you! Just as beautiful as your mother. ”
I want to believe him.
I want so badly to believe everything he’s saying.
But the kidnapping is making it really, really hard.
“I want to see those results, and I want to go home.”
“Of course, of course,” Gio says. “Can I ask that you at least meet your mother first? She’s waiting for us in the dining room for dinner but has no idea you’re here.
I would love for her to meet you. Then, if you still choose to go, I’ll have our private plane deliver you home as soon as possible.
” When I hesitate, he adds, “Please. I apologize for how you were brought to us, but I’m so grateful you’re here. ”
I consider what would happen if I pushed back. If I were to demand that he take me home right now. Would they want to see me again? Does it matter? Whether he approves of Mattheus’s methods or not, I was kidnapped. Not only that, but I was drugged too. Drugged and abducted from my living room.
Meaning I definitely can’t trust Mattheus.
Given that Gio raised him, can I trust him? Or the woman they claim is my mother?
Play ball, Emma. Get the lay of the land; then find a way to escape.
“I want to make a phone call.” I continue to cling to the lamp. “If you allow me that, then I’ll stay for dinner while you get your pilot ready to take me home.”
“Of course. Mattheus, allow her to use your phone.”
“Here you go.” He unlocks it, then hands it to me, so I remove one hand from the lamp to take the phone from him.
I stare down at the phone. Who do I call? It’s not like I have anyone’s number memorized. Everything’s saved on my contact list. What a fun side-effect of not needing to type in a phone number. Aside from 9-1-1, I have nothing memorized.
There’s an idea.
Except—what if they take that as a threat? What if they silence me before I can even utter a single word?
Think, Emma. And then it hits me. There is one number I do have memorized. Because, once upon a time, I was a love-stricken teenager calling to talk to her boyfriend every few minutes.
Please answer. I type in the numbers, then press the phone to my ear as it begins to ring. Come on.
“Hello?” Ruth’s voice is like a beacon. A familiarity that brings tears to my eyes and releases some of my fear.
“It’s Emma,” I choke out, my words strained with emotion.
“Emma! Oh, thank God above. You’re okay. Where are you? Call Dylan,” she adds, likely to her husband, Tommy. Where she is, he’s never far, and vice versa.