THE SECRETS WE BURIED IN WHITE LACE

I stepped back, my fists instinctively clenching.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded. “Where is my wife?”

The man looked at me, then glanced past my shoulder at the car idling in the parking lot.

He saw Mia and Lucas pressing their faces against the glass.

His rigid posture softened slightly.

“You’re Daniel,” the man said.

“Where is Catalina?” I repeated, my voice rising.

The man sighed and stepped back, gesturing for me to come inside the cramped, dimly lit motel room.

“My name is Marcus,” he said. “I’m a private investigator.”

I walked into the room.

It was immaculate. There were no clothes scattered around. The bed was made tightly.

The only things in the room were a laptop, a printer, and stacks of legal documents covering the small circular table in the corner.

“Catalina hired you?” I asked, confused.

Marcus nodded. He tossed the stack of files onto the bed.

“She spent the last three years working double shifts at a diner in upstate New York to afford my retainer,” Marcus said.

He pointed to the files.

“She didn’t run away to start a new life, Daniel. She ran away to build a war chest.”

I stared at the documents.

“A war chest against what?”

“Against your mother,” Marcus said bluntly. “And against Dr. Arthur Vance. Catalina hired me to track down the paper trail. We found the forged medical evaluations. We found the bribes Arthur paid the psychiatric board to fast-track her commitment papers.”

The sheer weight of what my wife had endured crashed into me.

While I was mourning her, thinking she had given up on us, she was working herself to the bone to save us.

“She called the kids last night,” I said, my voice cracking.

“Because today was the day,” Marcus nodded. “We finalized the lawsuit this morning. She was going to file the injunction against your mother, and then she was coming for custody.”

My heart leaped.

“So where is she?”

Marcus looked down at the winter coat he was holding.

He reached into the pocket and pulled out two pieces of heavy cardstock.

He handed them to me.

They were train tickets.

From New York to a small, quiet town in Vermont.

The departure time was in less than an hour.

“She isn’t here, Daniel,” Marcus said softly. “She went to the hotel.”

Panic gripped my chest.

“The wedding? She went to the wedding?”

Marcus nodded.

“She was going to stop it. She couldn’t stand the thought of Arthur Vance’s daughter raising her children.”

“I didn’t see her,” I panicked. “We just left the hotel. She wasn’t there.”

Marcus’s face darkened.

“Then Beatrice’s security team found her first.”

My blood ran cold.

If my mother’s private security had intercepted Catalina at the hotel, they wouldn’t let her walk away. Not with the evidence she had built.

Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

It was an unknown number.

I answered it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Daniel?”

The voice was breathless. Terrified.

And entirely familiar.

“Catalina,” I breathed, tears instantly blurring my vision. “Catalina, where are you?”

“I’m at the train station,” she cried, her voice echoing against what sounded like loud subway tiles. “They’re following me, Daniel. Your mother’s men. I tried to get to the ballroom, but they recognized me.”

“Listen to me,” I said sharply, the adrenaline taking over. “Which station?”

“Grand Central. Track 14. I have the files, Daniel. I have the proof!”

“Hide,” I ordered her. “Find a crowd and stay in the middle of it. Do not get on an empty train. I am coming right now.”