Chapter 166
Lena's POV
"Better. Still sore, but the doctor says I'm healing well." She glanced at the thermal container. "Is that—"
"Martha's special recipe." I opened it, and the rich aroma filled the room. "Guaranteed to cure all ills, apparently."
Jack appeared with bowls, ladling soup with surprising competence. Diana accepted hers gratefully, and I watched as she took the first sip, her eyes closing in appreciation.
"This is incredible."
"I'll tell Martha you said so." I settled into the armchair across from her. "And before you ask—no, you don't need to worry about work. Rachel and Sophia have everything under control. Your only job is to rest."
Diana's jaw tightened. "I should be there. I should be—"
"You should be healing." I kept my voice firm. "You've done more than enough, Diana. More than anyone had the right to ask."
Our eyes met. After a long moment, she nodded.
Jack excused himself to make a phone call, leaving us alone. I let the silence stretch, then asked as casually as I could manage, "You mentioned the Katya case before. I'd like to hear more about it, if you're comfortable sharing."
Diana's expression shifted, grief and anger warring beneath the surface. "That case is my biggest professional failure."
"Tell me anyway."
She took a breath, setting down her soup. "Katya was nineteen. Trafficked from Eastern Europe with promises of legal work. Instead, they held her in an underground medical facility and harvested her kidney." Her voice went flat, clinical—the only way to tell the story without breaking. "By the time we found her, the surgery was done. She was barely conscious."
I leaned forward. "What did she tell you?"
"Not much. She was terrified, traumatized." Diana's fingers twisted in the blanket. "But she said one thing that's haunted me. Right before the anesthesia took full effect, she heard a child's voice. On the other side of the curtain."
My heart stopped. "A child?"
"She thought she imagined it. The drugs, the fear." Diana's gaze was distant. "But I believed her. I just could never prove it."
I felt my eyes widen before I could control the reaction. A child. Maria's daughter, missing for over a year. The recipient—
"Lena?" Diana was watching me now, concerned. "What is it?"
"Nothing." I forced my expression smooth. "It's just—unexpected."
But my mind was racing. The pieces were clicking into place with horrifying clarity. Maria's daughter. The underground facility. The timeline matched.
Diana studied me a moment longer, then seemed to accept my explanation. We talked for another hour—careful, surface-level conversation that let us both pretend everything was normal.
When Diana started to flag, exhaustion pulling at her features, I stood to leave.
"Thank you for coming." She caught my hand. "And for trusting me. With everything."
"Get some rest." I squeezed back. "We'll be waiting when you're ready to come back."
---
The drive home felt longer than it was. I stared out the window, Diana's words echoing in my head. A child's voice.
I pulled out my phone and searched for the boarding school Maria's daughter had attended. Midwest location, about three hours away. I could be there and back in a day.
But I didn't want to go alone.
I texted Emily: Free tomorrow? Need you to come with me on a trip. Midwest. There's something I need to check.
Her response came within seconds: Of course. What time?
8 AM. I'll pick you up.
A thumbs-up emoji appeared, followed by: Should I be worried?
Probably. But come anyway.
I pocketed my phone as the car pulled into the parking garage. The apartment was still empty when I walked in—Rowan's door ajar, bed untouched. A new note sat on the counter: Dinner in the warmer. Don't skip it. —R
I stared at the note, something twisting in my chest. Maybe he really had given up. Given up on whatever he'd been trying to say in that hallway, on the idea of "starting over."
Good. I was better off without the distraction.
So why did the apartment feel so hollow?
---
I spent the evening preparing. Packed a bag with my laptop, notepad, recording pen. Printed the photo of Maria's daughter I'd found in Marcus's files—a gap-toothed girl with dark eyes and a hesitant smile. Made a list of questions for the school administration.
Emily texted back and forth with me, asking if she should call ahead.
No, I replied. I want to observe first. See what they're hiding.
You think they're hiding something?
Everyone's hiding something.
By the time I crawled into bed, my mind was still churning. Katya's testimony. The child's voice. Maria's missing daughter. The pieces were there—I just needed to fit them together.
I stared at the ceiling, letting exhaustion slowly drag me under.
---
Sometime deep in the night, I felt it.
A warmth against my cheek. Gentle. Almost reverent.
Fingertips traced my temple, brushed along my jaw. I tried to surface from sleep, tried to open my eyes, but my body was too heavy, too tired.
The touch lingered for a heartbeat, then withdrew.
I must have imagined it. A dream. My subconscious playing tricks.
The room was silent except for my own breathing.
I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket higher, and sank back into sleep.
And for the first time in weeks, I didn't dream of Marcus. Didn't wake gasping from nightmares. I slept through until morning, deep and undisturbed.
As if something—someone—was standing guard.