Chapter Nine
Steven's eye
turned pale with shock.
"Rebecca!" he called out. "Is this what happened? Oh my God!" he gasped. "Now I have answers to questions that have haunted me for years. This... this is painful. It's wicked. I never knew…"
"They told me you and your mother just chose to cut ties with the Kock family and left without a word."
Rebecca cut him off sharply.
"And you believed that crap? That lie straight from the pit of hell?" Her voice trembled with rage as she rose to her feet, her hands clenched into fists.
Steven stood quickly and held her trembling hands. Now face to face, he lowered his voice.
"I believe you. I do. But… you could have confided in me. Maybe it would've made a difference."
"No!" she shouted, her voice rising like a storm. "I could've been killed like that woman in the van! Dropped off in some gutter, God knows where! Do you know the kind of pressure I was under? I nearly had a miscarriage! I almost lost my baby, Steven. The threat was real!" Her voice cracked as she screamed.
Steven held her, as though she were a woman in the throes of labor pains. He gently led her to the nearest chair. When he was sure she had settled, he asked softly, yet with unwavering intensity,
"Rebecca… did you say you were pregnant when you left?"
She looked away, silent. The question lingered like smoke in the room. She said nothing.
Steven dropped to his knees.
"Please, my love. You know how deeply I care for you. I had no hand in the evil done to you. I never would."
She scoffed through her tears.
"You really want me to believe that? You never even looked for me, Steven! Was I not on this planet? Why didn't you find me?" Her voice broke again, and she sobbed uncontrollably.
"Heaven knows I tried," he whispered. "Maybe my best wasn't enough. But I tried."
He reached for her hands once more.
"Do you remember that night—after we visited the clergyman? You slept in my room. That night of roses? That was the night I became whole again. All my mysterious breakdowns vanished. You healed me, Rebecca. That was the most beautiful night of my life."
Steven paused, gathering himself.
"I thought I was ready to fight for us, but I was too late. The next morning, my mother called me to confirm whether you had slept in my room. I told her everything, hoping it would make her happy. And maybe, for a brief moment, it did. But I forgot—parents come as a pair. One can undo what the other accepts."
He shook his head, regret flooding his face.
"From then on, I was pulled back into my old life. My illnesses returned. You were gone, and the strength I had gained vanished. But even then, every time I was on the verge of giving up, your memory reminded me that life still had something worth holding on to."
He looked into her eyes.
"Later that day, my father booked me a flight to deliver a message to Senator Smith. While I was there, my phone was hacked. I lost all my contacts—especially yours. I got a new phone, but your number was gone. It was deliberate. They erased every trace of you."
He paused, as the memory sank in.
"Before I could return from that trip, I was forced to travel again—this time to Saudi Arabia. Another mission from my father. When I finally came back, the first thing I did was rush to your apartment. But you were gone. So was your mother."
Rebecca looked down, her shoulders tight.
"I confronted my mum," Steven continued. "Every time I called, she'd say, 'Rebecca is doing well.' But I knew she was lying. The day I confronted her in person, I screamed so loudly she trembled. That's when I realized—she knew more than she was letting on."
Steven's voice grew stronger.
"I hired private investigators. Not one, but seven of the best firms on this planet. I told them: Find Rebecca and her mother. I don't care what it costs. I needed to say goodbye—even if that's all I got."
He took a breath, steadying himself.
"But now, I realize the reports I got were written by one man: my father."
He stood and moved closer. Their eyes locked.
"Please, forgive me, my love," he said, his voice softer than ever.
Rebecca slowly rose to her feet. She wasn't ready to surrender—at least, not completely.
"You'll still have to find me," she said, pulling away gently.
She walked over to the wine shelf. When she returned, she was holding their favorite bottle of red wine from Spain.
True to her word, by the next morning, Rebecca and her son were gone.
The boy—Steven didn't even know his name.
But then he remembered what she had told him:
"You still have to come and get me."
If finding her—and the boy—was the only purpose left for him now, then so be it.
He would devote his life and every last resource to that cause.