“Don’t try to stand.”
I didn’t.
My legs were too weak.
They lifted me carefully onto a stretcher.
As they carried me toward the stairs, I looked back.
The cage remained open.
Marcus was handcuffed.
His mother stood beside him.
And the basement that had been my entire world for weeks suddenly looked very small.
But just before I reached the stairs, I heard something.
A phone ringing.
Not mine.
Marcus’s.
The detective pulled it from his pocket.
The screen displayed a name.
Victor.
Marcus went pale.
Harris answered it.
“Detective Harris.”
Silence.
Then a man’s voice came through the speaker.
“Where is Marcus?”
Harris looked at Marcus.
“You tell me.”
The caller hung up.
The detective stared at the phone.
Then he looked at Marcus.
“Who is Victor?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
His mother did.
She whispered:
“My husband.”
The detective frowned.
“Your husband?”
She nodded.
“Marcus’s father.”
Something about the way she said it made my stomach tighten.
“What does he have to do with this?” Harris asked.
She looked at me.
Then at Marcus.
And finally at the basement floor.
“He owns the company.”
“What company?”
She swallowed.
“The company Marcus has been trying to take over.”
Marcus’s face changed.
“Mother.”
She ignored him.
“He wasn’t only keeping her prisoner.”
She looked at me.
“He was hiding something.”
The paramedic pushed my stretcher toward the stairs.
I couldn’t hear the rest.
But one thought stayed with me.
Marcus had always told me the cage was punishment.
Maybe it had never been.
Maybe it had been a hiding place.
And if that was true, then the nightmare I had survived was only the beginning.
Part 3 — The File Beneath the House
I woke up to the sound of a monitor.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was.
White ceiling.
Bright lights.
A nurse standing beside me.
Then I remembered.
The basement.
The cage.
Marcus.
I immediately moved my hand toward my stomach.
The nurse noticed.
“Your baby is still with us.”
I began crying.
“Is she okay?”
The nurse smiled gently.
“She’s strong.”
I closed my eyes.
A daughter.
I hadn’t known for certain.
Marcus had never allowed me to attend a proper prenatal appointment during the last weeks.
He had told me the baby wasn’t worth saving.
But she was alive.
My daughter was alive.
A few minutes later, my sister Lena rushed into the room.
She looked exhausted.
Her hair was messy.
Her eyes were red.
She grabbed my hand.
“Oh, thank God.”
I squeezed her fingers.
“You got the message.”
She nodded.
“I got the location.”
“What about the audio?”
Her face changed.
