Chapter 3
3
It was already afternoon when I walked out of the hospital.
The sunlight was glaring. I squinted, standing by the entrance waiting for my ride.
A few people who had just come out of the hospital gathered together, their eyes darting my way as they whispered.
I vaguely caught phrases like "that's her," "homewrecker," and "that poor ex-wife."
I pulled out my phone.
Without even searching, I saw my own face in the push notifications of a local news app.
The headline stung my eyes:
[Chicago Crisis Negotiator Suspected of Cheating: Sick Ex-Wife Abandoned, Another Woman Takes Her Place?]
I clicked it. It was a video of me taken yesterday when I arrived at the hospital for my prenatal checkup.
The video was dubbed with an audio interview from Evelyn.
Her voice was choked with sobs, but her narrative was perfectly structured:
"Ethan and I divorced because I got sick. I didn't want to drag him down. But he promised he would wait for me to get better."
"This Ms. Bennett... Ethan saved her during an armed bank robbery back then. I knew about it too, and I even comforted her at the time. I never thought she would later..."
There were already over ten thousand comments.
[She knew he had an ex-wife and still chose to be a homewrecker. People these days will do anything to hook up with a high-profile cop.]
[I heard Ethan even helped coordinate the medical transfer for her father's surgery. He did her family a favor once, and now he's using that to force her to shut up and be obedient.]
[Having her ex-husband stolen while she's sick, and the kid is still so young. She's so pitiful.]
I had just turned off my phone when an old van suddenly slammed its brakes in front of me.
The door was yanked open.
Before I could react, two hands grabbed my arms from behind and dragged me inside.
A chemical-soaked rag was clamped hard over my nose and mouth.
My struggles went limp.
When I regained consciousness, the shrill sound of a child crying pierced my ears.
I forced my eyes open. I was in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Chicago's industrial district.
My hands were tied behind my back, my mouth sealed with duct tape.
The crying came from beside me.
I turned my head and saw Noah.
The boy was huddled in the corner, his face covered in tear streaks, his clothes filthy, his wrists bound with rope.
Seeing me wake up, Noah cried even harder, screaming for his dad between sobs.
Three men wearing masks stood in the center of the warehouse.
One of them, a burly man, was on the phone, his voice rough:
"Ethan Carter. You only get to walk away with one. Your wife, or your son."
The phone was on speaker.
Ethan's voice came through, so tense it sounded like it would snap:
"Don't touch them. We can negotiate any terms—"
"Cut the crap!"
The man raised his voice, pulling a knife from his waistband and stepping between Noah and me.
"Choose the wife or the son. You have one minute."
The line stayed open.
Rapid breathing came through, followed by Evelyn's piercing shrieks:
"Ethan! Save Noah! That's our son! Please!"
Noah curled into a tight ball in terror, crying so hard he was choking.
Silence hung on the line for two seconds.
Then, Ethan's voice sounded.
Every word felt like it was squeezed through his teeth.
"Let my son go."
I closed my eyes.
I wasn't actually surprised.
Really, not surprised at all.
But my chest still felt like it had been brutally caved in.
Cold wind poured in through the cracks in the ruined warehouse walls, making me shiver uncontrollably.
"Hear that?"
The man pointed the tip of the knife at me, then shot a look at his accomplices.
"This woman is yours to deal with."
The other two men walked over and hauled me up.
I struggled desperately, but the difference in strength was too great. I was dragged to the other side of the warehouse.
The tape was ripped off roughly.
I gasped for air, watching the blade gleam coldly in the dim light.
"Pretty quiet. Pretty sensible."
The knife-wielding man scoffed. He angled the blade down, tracing my collar.
"Too bad being sensible is useless. Your man still doesn't want you—"
Bang!
The warehouse doors were smashed open.
Blinding light flooded in.
I squinted and saw SWAT and the Hostage Rescue Team storm into the warehouse, fanning out instantly.
The scene devolved into absolute chaos.
The man with the knife cursed, dragging me backward, the blade pressed tight against my neck.
Another kidnapper tried to run but was tackled to the ground by advancing officers.
"Nobody move!"
The man roared. The blade bit into my skin. Warm liquid trailed down my neck.
"Come any closer and I'll kill her!"
I was choked so hard I couldn't breathe, and my vision started to blur.
I saw Ethan rush in through the doors.
He was deathly pale, his eyes locked dead onto the knife at my throat.
The man looked at Ethan, then at me, his eyes darting frantically.
In that single second of distraction, I used every last ounce of my strength to slam backward.
Caught off guard, the man's grip loosened for a fraction of a second.
Almost simultaneously, gunshots rang out.
The bullets hit the kidnapper, but the sharp blade sliced open my neck.
Blood poured out.
Ethan's agonizing scream tore through my ears.
Right before my vision went completely black, I saw him sprinting toward me.
His face held panic, despair, and a kind of absolute devastation I had never seen before.