Chapter 3

For the next twenty-four hours, I drifted through the house like a ghost.

I didn’t dare go down to the basement; I couldn’t even bring myself near the ground-floor door that led to it.

I hid Maeve’s ring at the very bottom of a box of sanitary pads—a place Rowan would absolutely never touch.

The following afternoon, the doorbell rang.

Through the security monitor, I saw a tall stranger in a dark jacket standing on the porch.

He didn’t ring the bell a second time. He just stood there quietly, observing the front lawn.

I opened the door, keeping the chain latch engaged, and looked out at him.

"Can I help you?"

The man pulled a badge from his pocket and flashed it in front of me.

"Good afternoon, ma'am."

"I'm Detective Gideon with the city police department's Homicide Division."

"Is Mr. Rowan Hayes at home?"

Homicide?

What were they doing here? Was it about the ring?

"He's out of town on business. He won't be back until tonight." I swallowed hard, doing my best to remain steady.

"Did something happen? Why are you looking for Rowan?"

Gideon's gaze drifted over my shoulder, doing a quick sweep of the foyer.

"May we speak inside, Mrs. Hayes?"

I hesitated for a split second before sliding the chain free.

Gideon stepped into the living room. He didn’t sit; instead, he planted himself in front of the fireplace.

His eyes were hawkish, as if they could pierce through every secret hidden within these walls.

"We’re investigating a cold case," Gideon said, cutting straight to the chase as he turned back to me.

"It’s regarding the previous owner of this house, Maeve Vance."

That name again.

"Are you aware of her disappearance?"

"I... I just read about it online yesterday," I replied, a half-truth.

"When Rowan bought this house, the realtor never mentioned it to us."

"Of course. Agents always prefer to sweep property-devaluing news like that under the rug." Gideon gave a dry chuckle. He reached into his inside breast pocket, pulled out a manila envelope, and slid out a photograph.

"Mrs. Hayes, did your husband ever happen to mention that he knew Maeve Vance?"

I froze.

"That's impossible."

"Rowan told me he only moved to this state three months ago. How could he possibly know someone who went missing eight months ago?"

"Take a look at this photo."

Gideon held the picture out to me.

I looked down. The moment my eyes locked onto the image, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

The photo was taken in a dimly lit bar.

Under the warm glow of the lights, Rowan had his arm wrapped tightly around the waist of a redhead. Their heads were pressed together, both of them smiling with an undeniable, profound intimacy.

That woman was Maeve Vance—the exact same woman from the news article.

The timestamp printed in the bottom right corner read: two years ago.

"We recently recovered this deleted photo while combing through Maeve's cloud backups," Gideon's voice cut through the silence, layered with heavy scrutiny.

"Mrs. Hayes, your husband didn't just know Maeve Vance. They were engaged to be married."

A deafening ringing exploded in my ears.

How was this possible?!

Then why did he propose to me? Why did he buy this exact house?!

"Mrs. Hayes?"

"Are you alright?"

Gideon frowned, studying my bloodless face.

"I... I had no idea." I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing back the urge to scream.

I couldn't tell Gideon about the ring in the wall.

If Rowan were arrested right now, with his meticulous, calculating mind, he would absolutely find a loophole to walk free.

I needed concrete evidence. I needed to know exactly what he did to Maeve.

"If he gets back, please have him contact me immediately." Gideon handed me a business card, holding my gaze with a long, piercing look.

"Also, Mrs. Hayes... I highly recommend you keep your guard up."

After Gideon left, I collapsed onto the sofa.

The smile on Rowan's face in that photograph was as gentle and refined as ever, but to my eyes, it had warped into the mask of a monster.