Chapter 164 Rescue Team

Chapter 164 Rescue Team
Aaron’s POV

“I know where Michelle is.”

The silence inside the car turned suffocating.

Sarah whipped toward me, fear flashing raw across her face before she could hide it.

“What?” she whispered. “Where is she?”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel until the leather creaked.

Derek’s voice still echoed in my head: She just used her card thirty minutes ago.

Stupid. Michelle had always been more of emotions than sense.

And emotional people are always prone to mistakes.

“There’s a motel about twenty minutes from here,” I said finally. “Derek tracked a transaction under her name.”
Sarah sat up straighter, her whole body alert. “She’s there?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Her voice cracked like thin ice. “Aaron, we don’t have time for maybe. My son—”

“Our son,” I corrected quietly, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.

The words landed heavy between us.

Normally Sarah would have argued, pulled away, built another wall. But not tonight. Tonight fear drowned out everything else.

She turned toward the window. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, catching the faint glow of passing streetlights.

“I should’ve known,” she whispered.

I glanced over. “Known what?”

A broken laugh escaped her. “That Zara would do something like this.”

Something sharp twisted in my chest. Because honestly? I should have known too.

I knew Zara—knew how obsession twisted her when she lost control. I’d watched her spiral after learning about the baby, after the affair, after our entire world detonated. But kidnapping? Even for her, this felt unhinged. Dangerous.

“She won’t hurt him,” I said after a long moment.

Sarah laughed bitterly. “You don’t know that.”

“She loves that baby.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Sarah turned sharply. “What?”

I exhaled slowly, the memory clawing at me. “Before everything went to hell… Zara wanted kids. She used to talk about it constantly.”

A painful silence stretched between us.
Then Sarah whispered, “She called him disgusting.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.”

The memory hit like a fresh wound: Zara’s rage, the screaming accusations, the heartbreak that followed. Everything had gone so wrong, so fast.

Sarah wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand. “I hate this.” Her voice cracked. “I hate that she made me afraid of my own sister.”

I looked over again. She looked wrecked—hair messy, eyes swollen from hours of crying, holding herself together by sheer force of will. Still heartbreakingly beautiful in a way she never seemed to realize.

Something inside my chest cracked open. I hated seeing her like this. Hated that I’d played a part in destroying her life, her reputation, her peace.

And yet—despite everything—I still loved her. Probably more than I should.

The motel appeared fifteen minutes later: cheap, run-down, half its neon lights flickering like dying fireflies. My stomach tightened. No way Zara would have chosen a place like this on her own. Someone had helped her.
I parked quickly. Sarah reached for the door handle immediately.

“No,” I said.

She froze. “What now?”

“You stay here.”

She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Are you joking?”

“Sarah—”

“No!” She turned fully toward me, eyes blazing through the tears. “My baby is in there!”

Her voice broke completely. “You don’t get to tell me to stay calm while my child is gone.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. She was impossible. Terrified. And completely right.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But you stay behind me.”

She nodded too quickly.

We stepped out into the night. The air felt different—thick, heavy, wrong. My instincts screamed that something was off.

Room 27.

We moved quietly across the cracked pavement. Sarah clutched my arm once, briefly, her fingers digging in with raw fear. The small touch nearly undid me. Then she realized what she’d done and pulled back just as fast. Neither of us spoke of it.

I knocked once. Nothing.

Twice. Still nothing.

Then—movement inside.

Sarah inhaled sharply.

“Kendrick?” I called.

Silence.
What was I expecting, a four month old baby to answer and say: yes Dada, I’m here.

I knocked harder. “Michelle. Open the door.”

The door cracked open an inch. Michelle’s face appeared—pale, shocked.

“Oh my God.” Panic flooded her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to find me.”

My jaw tightened. “Move.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Sarah pushed forward. “Where is my son?!”

Michelle flinched. Tears welled up instantly. “I—I’m sorry.”
“WHERE IS HE?” Sarah screamed.

My patience snapped. I shoved the door wider. Michelle stumbled backward.

The room was empty. No baby. No Zara. Just an empty room and a sagging bed.

Sarah’s eyes darted wildly around the space. “No…” Her voice shattered. “No, no, no…”

Michelle burst into sobs. “I didn’t mean for this to happen I promise!”

I turned toward her slowly, dangerously calm. “What did you do?”

She shook violently. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain.”

Sarah stepped closer, desperate and broken. “Please,” she whispered. “Please tell me where my son is I’m begging you.”

Michelle covered her face with trembling hands. “She said she just wanted to scare you.”

My stomach dropped. “She?”

Michelle hesitated, then whispered, “Zara.”

Sarah physically stumbled. I caught her before she hit the dresser.

“She planned everything,” Michelle cried. “She contacted me months ago!”

“What?” Sarah breathed.

“She knew about the affair.” Michelle’s guilt was palpable. “She said you both ruined her life.”

I stayed silent, letting the quiet press on her. 

“She promised me money,” Michelle admitted shakily. “Said if I helped, she’d fix everything.”

Sarah looked horrified. “You helped kidnap my baby for money?”

“I didn’t think she’d actually take him!” Michelle sobbed. “She said she loved him! She said she just wanted you gone!”

Sarah stopped breathing. “What?”

Michelle looked at her, voice dropping to a whisper. “She said if you disappeared, everything would go back to normal.” She swallowed. “That Aaron belongs to her… and the baby should’ve been hers.”

The room turned ice-cold.

Sarah shook her head slowly, as if she could deny the words away.

I stepped closer to Michelle. “Where is Zara?”

She shook her head quickly. “I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer.”

“I swear!”

She wiped at her tears. “She rented a house!”

My pulse slowed. There it is.

“Where?”

Michelle hesitated. I stepped closer. Her fear sharpened.

“Michelle.” My voice was low and controlled. “If anything happens to my son… you’ll pray the police get to you before I do.”

She broke instantly, hands trembling as she scribbled the address on a motel notepad.

Ten minutes later we were driving into deeper darkness—toward Zara, toward Kendrick, toward whatever nightmare waited for us at the end of that road.