Chapter 75

“Williams, the food is ready,” Evelyn announced as she re-entered the elegant office. The chaise lounge, the untouched documents, and the tightly closed laptop were all symbols of the doctor’s immobile power.

Williams moved toward the door with an unexpected, almost theatrical elegance, her floral dress flowing. Evelyn held the heavy oak door open, a posture of service she hated.

In the dining room, bathed in the soft, recessed light of evening, Evelyn served the plain meal. “I’m going to prepare your bath after this,” she stated, her task list dictating her next move.

“No, wait.” Williams’ left hand shot out, gripping Evelyn’s arm just above the elbow. The touch was startlingly firm. “Sit down and eat with me.”

“But I have to,” Evelyn protested, pulling slightly against the grip.

Williams looked pointedly at the antique clock ticking on the mantelpiece. “It’s not time yet. You can eat before you go.”

Evelyn hesitated, taking in the small, surprising gesture of politeness. She lowered herself into the chair opposite Williams, serving herself a portion of the simple, unappetizing food. She watched Williams, every movement now suspect, a viper coiled in silk.

Williams took a bite, chewed deliberately, and gave a measured nod. “Your dish is good.”

“Thank you. How about the ingredients I need for tomorrow?” Evelyn asked, testing the waters.

“One of my employees will bring them,” Williams replied casually.

The silence that followed was oppressive, broken only by the delicate clinking of silverware. Then, Williams lowered her fork, the movement signaling a shift from dining to interrogation.

“Evelyn… Hazel, is that right?”

Evelyn stiffened. “Yes.”

“Where do you come from?”

Her pulse spiked. Why that question? Why now? She thought.

Her hand trembled under the table. She lifted her eyes slowly and saw Williams watching her with clinical precision.

“I’m… an orphan,” she lied.

“Oohh. Is that why you work in that orphanage?”

“Yes,” Evelyn answered. “I… have a particular affection for children.”

“And what did you study?”

“I’m a Child Welfare Specialist.”

Williams nodded, then tilted her head. “And where did you study?”

Evelyn’s breath caught.

She had no fabricated story prepared.

Was this an interrogation? A test? A trap?

She threw the question back. “And where did you study?”

“Aethelred University,” Williams answered easily. “But I don’t need to tell you what my profession is. It’s obvious, right?”

Evelyn pressed on, unable to contain the crucial question that had haunted her since the flashback. “And… where are you from?”

“From here, of course.” Williams smiled—too quickly.

Evelyn froze.

Her voice trembled. “Your mother is Miss Kai Malee… isn’t she?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Just asking.” Evelyn forced a nod.

A long, tense silence stretched.

“You haven’t told me where you studied,” Williams pressed gently.

Evelyn forced herself to breathe, citing a real institution from her “teacher” file. “Northwood Teachers College,” she said, drawing from the last reserves of real-world knowledge.

“But Evelyn!”

She jolted. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How did you meet Miss Kannika and Yada?” Williams asked, deceptively light.

Evelyn’s throat tightened. “Kannika is a friend I met during my service work, and Yada is a lawyer I found online who specializes in these complex cases.”

“Oh, okay. Wait a moment, I’ll be right back.” Williams stood up, moving with a slight stiffness, and headed toward her room.

Evelyn remained paralyzed by panic. Why the focused interrogation? Had Kannika and Yada been caught? Had Williams found the surveillance footage of her apartment?

Williams returned moments later, holding her sleek, minimalist phone. She placed it squarely in front of Evelyn on the table.

“Since we made a deal, and since you’re doing your job adequately, you can have it back,” Williams stated, her expression impassive.

Evelyn took her phone with deep suspicion. It felt like a trap, bait dangled over a precipice. She slowly turned it on.

“If you care about your embryo,” Williams continued, her voice low and menacing, “you will do everything to protect it and this deal.”

Before Evelyn could react, the phone rang, shattering the silence. Evelyn looked at Williams, who had already resumed eating. “Answer it. You’re free.”

Evelyn answered with extreme caution. It was a work colleague from the orphanage.

“Hello? Miss Evelyn, are you okay? You haven’t given us any news for a while.”

“Sorry, I’m fine. I…” She glanced at Williams, who was chewing without looking up. “I traveled for an emergency abroad, on a family matter.”

“I understand. We were worried, your number wasn’t reachable. Hope all gets better, we miss you?”

“I miss you too.”

“Okay. Well, I—”

“Talk to you later, then. I have to run.”

“Yes.” The call disconnected.

Evelyn put her phone down to eat, but it rang again immediately. It was Yada. Evelyn instinctively ignored it, allowing it to ring.

“But why aren’t you answering?” Williams asked, her eyes narrowing.

“No, it’s…”

“Who is it?”

Evelyn hesitated, weighing her options. “Yada, my lawyer.”

Williams tapped her perfectly manicured fingernail against the porcelain plate, thinking. “Answer. Tell her the deal is sealed and you are no longer interested in her service.”

Evelyn picked up the phone, her hand trembling. “Hello, Yada?”

“Hello, Evelyn! Are you okay? Where are you? Kannika and I—”

“Is Kannika alright?” Evelyn worried.

“Yes, she is. How about you?”

“I’m fine, Yada,” Evelyn spoke quickly, forcing a casual tone.

“Were you serious regarding the abortion? Did you have an abortion?” Yada’s voice was strained.

Evelyn stared at Williams for a second, then she strengthened her voice, “Yes, and it was better for everyone. The parents opted for abortion, and I agreed.”

“Why did you do that, Evelyn? I thought you wanted this child to live! Even if the parents opted for abortion, you—”

“Yada, please, it’s over. I no longer need your service.”

“Evelyn, are you sure you’re okay? Where are you?” Yada pressed again.

“I’m fine, Yada. I don’t want you to worry about me anymore. I want to leave all this behind me.”

“Did you sign an agreement with the hospital?”

“Yes. Everything is resolved.”

“Then, Polo was right about the hospital’s position?”

“Yes. He was.”

Yada paused a moment. She knew Evelyn lied. She had never spoken to Polo about anything.

“Please, Evelyn, tell me where you are.”

“I’m not in town for now. I want to take some time to recharge.”

“I understand. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

“Don’t worry. Good evening, I have to go wash up now.”

“Evelyn.” The line clicked dead.

Kannika (now using her real name, Kiya) looked at Yada, then at the computer screen on her kitchen counter, the screen that had just pinpointed Evelyn’s location. “She is in the city, Yada. She’s close.”

Yada slumped against the counter, shaking her head. “I don’t believe a word she said about the abortion or the resolution. Her tone was rehearsed, distant. She’s being held.”

Using the high-level, restricted tracing software provided by Kiya’s agency, a software usually reserved for tracking high-value targets, they had bypassed regular security protocols and now had Evelyn’s precise coordinates.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go check,” Yada decided, running a hand through her hair.

“Why not tonight?” Kiya argued, leaning forward, her gaze intense.

“It’s very late. Tomorrow morning is better,” Yada admitted, rubbing her eyes. “By the way, you should rest.”

Kiya softened instantly, seeing the genuine fatigue in the lawyer’s face. “Okay, tomorrow we’ll go.”

“That suits me well,” Yada said, relieved, a small, grateful smile touching her lips.

Meanwhile, Williams finished her meal and headed to her room, followed by Evelyn.

Arriving in her palatial, gilded bedroom, Evelyn moved to prepare the enormous soaking tub. Williams went directly to the side table, retrieving the surveillance laptop. She placed the machine on her bed and closed the lid, sealing the knowledge of the outside world and of Yada and Kiya’s location.

Evelyn returned, the air smelling of expensive bath oils. “Your bath is hot, Doctor. That’s my last task for the evening.”

Williams looked at her from head to toe, her eyes lingering. “Thank you.” Just as Evelyn was about to leave, she remembered the phone. And handed it over to Williams.

“No,” Williams told her, her voice surprisingly gentle. “You can leave with it. It’s yours.”

“Are you sure?” Evelyn asked, the question ringing with disbelief.

“Go on,” Williams said, sinking into her chaise lounge.

Evelyn entered her own small, adjacent room and closed the door. The phone was in front of her. She could finally write a real message to Yada, tell her everything, and plan an escape. But she froze, her fingers hovering over the screen. Was this not the final piece of the trap? To make her bite the bait and completely lose the deal, revealing her connection to the outside world?

She decided, once again, to put the phone down. She had to stay until she understood.

Evelyn went into the shower. She thought about Williams’ lie. Why did Williams lie about her past? She didn’t grow up here. Was she putting up a final, impenetrable façade?

She touched her stomach, thinking of the embryo. What was she going to do if she gave birth and the Mayeurs rejected the child? A tear rolled down her cheek. Was the detective right? Was she Williams’ misfortune? Should she just have the abortion and walk away? In any case, she was clinging to a story whose main protagonist had definitely turned the page. Exhausted by the emotional conflict, she fell asleep with difficulty.

At the same time, Williams was immersed in the scalding bath. Devoid of the numbing comfort of whiskey, she had replaced it with sleeping pills, a prescription she’d reluctantly allowed. Oddly, the sedatives had a better, softer effect on her authoritarian moods than alcohol. Or was it simply the forced physical vulnerability?

She looked at her bandaged hand, the reflection in the polished marble, and wondered aloud to the steam: “Tomorrow, what should Doctor Niran Williams do?”

The question remained suspended, unanswered, but her heart was heavy with an unfamiliar worry. The hand still wasn’t moving.

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