Chapter 236: Shadows of the Past

Jasmine's POV

The seaplane carrying us back to the mainland where Marcus's private jet waited. We'd left Klaus on the island with instructions to secure the guesthouse and report any disturbances immediately.

Eva sat across from me, staring out the window with a tense expression. I'd adamantly opposed bringing her, but Marcus had made the compelling argument that she knew too much to leave behind. She might be our only link to Louis's whereabouts—and to understanding the danger he now faced.

"Tell me more about your father's connection to Richard Mitchell," I demanded, breaking the taut silence.

Eva's eyes shifted from the window to me. "It's a long, complicated story that dates back decades."

"We have time," Marcus said coolly.

She sighed, "They were business partners once, in the early nineties. Before my father... specialized. It ended badly. My father lost millions and blamed Richard for betraying him."

"And that justifies kidnapping his son?" I asked incredulously.

"He didn't kidnap Louis," Eva countered. "As I told you, I found him washed up on the shore near our mainland property. When I discovered who he was, my father saw it as... divine intervention. A chance to make Richard suffer as he had suffered."

The casual cruelty of it staggered me. "By letting Richard believe his son was dead for four years?"

"By keeping his son alive," Eva retorted, a hint of defiance returning to her voice. "My father could have killed Louis easily. Instead, he allowed me to care for him, to help him recover."

"How generous," I said, not bothering to hide my contempt.

"You don't understand the kind of man my father is," Eva said, her voice dropping. "Louis was lucky."

"Lucky?" I repeated, incredulous. "He lost four years of his life—four years with his family, with his daughter!"

"He gained four years he wouldn't have had otherwise," Eva shot back. "Alan Blackwood thought he was dead. That kept him safe until—" She broke off abruptly.

Marcus leaned forward. "Until what?"

Eva's expression turned guarded. "Until he started remembering too much."

A chill ran through me. "You think Alan knows Louis is alive now. That's why you were willing to come with us. You're afraid of what happens when your father learns you let Louis leave."

Eva didn't confirm or deny it.

"How would Alan find out?" Marcus pressed. "Did your father contact him?"

"I don't know," Eva said, but there was something evasive in her tone. "My father has many connections. Information... travels."

I studied her, trying to see past the carefully constructed façade. Despite everything, despite the years of lies and manipulation, I sensed there was more to Eva than simple villainy. She'd had opportunities to harm Louis, to silence him permanently, but instead, she had cared for him, protected him in her way.

"You really do care for him, don't you?" I asked quietly.

Eva met my gaze, surprising me with the raw emotion in her eyes. "You can hate me all you want, Mrs. Mitchell, but yes. I love him."

The admission hung in the air between us, uncomfortable in its sincerity.

"That doesn't justify what you did," I said finally.

"No," she agreed, looking away again. "It doesn't. But it might help you understand why I want to find him as badly as you do. Why I need to know he's safe."

The rest of the flight passed in tense silence. As soon as we landed, Marcus arranged for his jet to be prepared for immediate departure to New York.

"I'm having Daniel meet us at the airport with additional security," he told me as we waited on the tarmac. "If Alan is really tracking Louis, we can't take any chances."

I nodded, clutching Louis's journal against my chest like a talisman. I'd been reading through it during the flight, tracing the evolution of his memories through unsteady handwriting and increasingly coherent thoughts. The entries were sporadic, sometimes weeks or months apart, but they painted a heartbreaking picture of a man struggling to piece together his identity.

_December 17: Had the dream again. A woman with dark hair and gray eyes. She calls my name, but I can't reach her. I wake up feeling like I've lost something precious._

_February 3: Eva says I was an architect before the accident. It doesn't feel right, but I can't remember anything else. My hands don't seem to remember how to draw._

_March 25: The name 'Jasmine' came to me today. When I said it aloud, it felt right on my tongue, like I've said it a thousand times before. Eva says I must have read it in one of the books she brought me. I don't think she's telling me everything._

And then, entries from the past year, as his memories had apparently begun returning more rapidly:

_September 12: Remembered something clearly today—a skyline, buildings against a sunset. New York. I lived in New York. Eva went very quiet when I mentioned it._

_November 30: Mitchell. The name keeps popping into my head. Is it a person? A place? It feels important._

_January 8: Had a flash of memory so vivid it brought me to my knees. A little boy, serious eyes, small hand in mine. A son? But that can't be right. Eva says I've never mentioned children before._

And finally, the last entry before the one we'd read at the guesthouse:

_April 2: The nightmares are getting worse. Always the same—falling, darkness, cold. And a man's face, laughing as I fall. I think I know now what happened to me. I think I was meant to die._

Reading Louis's gradual awakening from amnesia was like watching him come back to life one memory at a time. But it also filled me with a desperate urgency. He was out there, remembering, vulnerable, possibly being hunted by the same man who had tried to kill him four years ago.

The jet was finally ready, and we boarded quickly. As we taxied for takeoff, I gazed out the window at the distant Alps, the mountains that had supposedly claimed Louis's life. All this time, he'd been alive, just miles from where we'd searched for him. The cruelty of it made my chest ache.

"We'll find him," Marcus said, taking the seat beside me. "We'll bring him home."

I nodded, forcing back tears. "And then? What about Eva and her father? What about Alan?"

"One step at a time. First, we find Louis. Then, we make sure everyone involved pays for what they've done."

I looked across the cabin where Eva sat alone, staring at her hands. Despite everything, I couldn't hate her completely. She had saved Louis's life, cared for him when he was at his most vulnerable. But she had also been complicit in keeping him from us for four long years.

What would Louis want? Revenge against those who had wronged him? Or simply to come home, to begin healing, to meet the daughter he'd never known?

As the jet climbed into the sky, I made a silent promise to Grace, to Louis, to myself: I would find him. I would bring him home. And nothing would stand in my way.