“She said every child deserved someone who would come when they called.”
Something moved inside my memory.
A small voice.
Mommy, don’t go.
I gasped.
Luca leaned forward.
“What?”
I pressed my fingers against my temples.
“I heard something.”
“What?”
“A child.”
My eyes filled.
“He was calling for his mother.”
Luca’s face crumpled.
“That sounds like Noah.”
I began crying.
I didn’t know why.
I didn’t remember loving him.
But my body seemed to recognize the grief.
Luca continued.
“That night, the lake house caught fire.”
“How?”
“We never found out.”
I looked at him.
“Where were you?”
His expression darkened.
“Chicago.”
I stared.
“You weren’t there?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Business.”
One word.
But the shame in his voice told me there was more.
“I was supposed to return before dinner. Elena called me three times.”
He swallowed.
“I didn’t answer.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Why?”
“Because I was meeting with Victor Hale.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“Hale?”
Luca nodded.
“He was trying to sell me a controlling interest in a Swiss investment company. I thought it was legitimate.”
I looked at Margaret.
She was staring at him.
Luca continued.
“When I finally answered my phone, it was one of the house guards.”
His voice broke.
“The house was burning.”
I could barely breathe.
“Did they find Noah?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Did they find me?”
He looked at me.
“They found a woman’s body in the remains of the house.”
My stomach tightened.
“The doctor identified her as Elena.”
“Adrian Keller?”
Luca nodded.
I closed my eyes.
“Then who was she?”
“We don’t know.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Noah.
Four years old.
A red toy car.
A little boy who had vanished.
I felt something rise inside me.
Not memory.
Not exactly.
A terrible certainty.
“He isn’t dead.”
Luca looked up.
“What?”
I stared at him.
“Noah isn’t dead.”
His expression changed.
“Emma—”
“I don’t know how I know.”
My voice shook.
“But he’s alive.”
Luca stood.
“Why do you think that?”
I pressed my hands against my head.
An image flashed.
A hallway.
A locked door.
A little boy crying.
A woman’s voice saying:
Be quiet, Noah. Mommy will come back.
Then darkness.
I gasped.
Luca caught my arm before I fell.
“Emma!”
I gripped his jacket.
“Blue room.”
He froze.
“What?”
“The blue room.”
His eyes widened.
I stared at him.
“Someone told me to remember the blue room.”
Luca stepped backward.
I saw something terrifying in his expression.
Recognition.
“Where?” I whispered.
He swallowed.
“At the lake house.”
My heart pounded.
“What?”
“There was a blue room upstairs.”
I gripped his arm.
“What was inside?”
He looked at me.
“It was Noah’s bedroom.”
By sunrise, Luca had arranged for an independent neurologist and trauma specialist to examine me.
The doctors warned that memories could return unpredictably.
They also warned against forcing them.
I listened.
But all I could think about was Noah.
A little boy I couldn’t remember.
A child who might still be alive.
That afternoon, Marco entered Luca’s study carrying a folder.
“Boss, we found something.”
Luca stood.
“What?”
“Victor Hale’s Swiss company purchased a private residential property five years ago.”
“Where?”
“Outside Geneva.”
My heart began pounding.
Marco placed photographs on the desk.
A large estate.
Stone walls.
Iron gates.
A garden.
Then a photograph of a child.
A boy.
About nine years old.
Dark hair.
Blue eyes.
Standing beside a woman in a white coat.
I stared.
The boy held a red toy car.
My hands began shaking.
“Noah.”
Luca looked at the photograph.
His face drained of color.
Marco continued.
“The property is registered to a foundation connected to Hale.”
I reached for the picture.
The boy was older.
Taller.
But something about his face made my chest ache.
Luca whispered:
“My God.”
Marco looked at us.
“There’s more.”
He opened another document.
A school enrollment form.
The boy’s name was listed as Nathaniel Keller.
His guardian was Dr. Adrian Keller.
I stared at the page.
Then at the photograph.
A strange memory surfaced.
A little boy laughing.
A birthday cake.
Four candles.
And my own voice saying:
Make a wish, Noah.
I covered my mouth.
Tears spilled down my face.
Luca reached for me.
This time, I didn’t pull away.
I looked at him.
“He’s alive.”
Luca’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
I gripped his hand.
“Then we have to bring him home.”
But before Luca could answer, Marco’s phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Boss.”
Luca turned.
“What?”
“Someone sent us a video.”
Marco placed the phone on the desk.
The screen showed a boy sitting in a brightly lit room.
He looked directly into the camera.
Then spoke in a small, trembling voice.
“My name is Nathaniel.”
He swallowed.
