Chapter 3: Tyler’s Messages Revealed The Secret Claire Feared Most
Chapter 3: Tyler’s Messages Revealed The Secret Claire Feared Most
I stared at Claire’s phone for several seconds before picking it up.
She reached for it immediately.
“Daniel, don’t.”
Her voice wasn’t angry.
It was terrified.
That scared me more than anything she had said that night.
I unlocked the screen.
There were three new messages from Tyler.
The first one read:
“Last night was incredible. I still owe you the part you like most.”
My stomach tightened.
The second message came less than a minute later.
“Don’t worry. Daniel still doesn’t know about the other night.”
I looked at Claire.
She had gone completely pale.
I opened the third message.
“You promised me he would never find out about the hotel.”
The room became silent.
I slowly placed the phone on the table.
“How long?”
Claire swallowed.
“How long what?”
“How long have you been seeing Tyler?”
She closed her eyes.
“Six months.”
I laughed once.
It wasn’t because anything was funny.
“Six months?”
“Daniel—”
“Six months isn’t a mistake, Claire.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
She looked at me with tears running down her cheeks.
“I was scared.”
“Of Tyler?”
She nodded.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he knew something about you.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Claire hesitated.
“Tyler contacted me eight months ago.”
“Eight months ago?”
“Yes.”
“That was before you started sleeping with him.”
“I didn’t know what he wanted at first.”
“What did he want?”
She looked toward the window.
“He wanted me to believe him.”
“Believe what?”
“That he knew something about you.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“What could he possibly know about me?”
Claire didn’t answer.
Instead, she opened her phone again and scrolled through several photographs.
Then she stopped.
She turned the screen toward me.
It was a photograph of me.
I was younger.
Maybe twenty-two.
I stood outside a building in downtown Chicago.
And beside me was a woman.
I didn’t recognize her.
She had dark hair, a gray coat, and a small silver necklace.
My heart began pounding.
“When was this?”
“Nine years ago.”
I stared at the photograph.
One year before Claire and I met.
“Who is she?”
“Emily.”
The name hit me strangely.
Not like recognition.
More like something buried beneath a locked door.
“Who is Emily?”
Claire’s lips trembled.
“She was important to you.”
“How?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
“Tyler showed me this photograph.”
“Why?”
“He said you had forgotten.”
I looked at the picture again.
There was something about the woman’s face.
Something familiar.
Not because I remembered her.
Because my body seemed to.
My hands became cold.
“What happened to her?”
Claire looked down.
“She disappeared.”
“When?”
“Two days after that photograph was taken.”
I couldn’t speak.
“And then?”
“They said she died in an accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
Claire shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve been hiding this from me for six months, and you don’t know?”
“I knew enough to be afraid.”
I stood up and walked toward the kitchen.
My mind was racing.
Nine years ago.
Chicago.
Emily.
An accident.
A woman I supposedly knew well enough to be photographed with.
But I remembered nothing.
I opened my laptop.
Claire watched me.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.”
I logged into an old cloud account I hadn’t used in years.
I didn’t even know why I remembered the password.
Maybe because some part of me had been waiting for this moment.
There were thousands of old photographs.
College.
Trips.
Friends.
Family.
Then I found a folder labeled Chicago.
My hands shook as I opened it.
The photograph was there.
The same photograph Tyler had shown Claire.
But there was something else.
A digital note attached to the file.
I clicked it.
One sentence appeared.
“Don’t let Daniel remember what happened here.”
I froze.
“Claire.”
She came closer.
“What?”
I turned the screen toward her.
Her face changed immediately.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“Who wrote it?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did you first see this picture?”
“Tyler showed it to me eight months ago.”
“And what did he tell you?”
“That Emily was dead.”
“That’s all?”
“No.”
She looked terrified again.
“He said you were the last person seen with her.”
My throat tightened.
“I don’t remember her.”
“I know.”
“I don’t remember Chicago.”
“You don’t have to convince me.”
I closed my eyes.
For a second, something flashed through my mind.
A hallway.
A red EXIT sign.
A woman’s voice.
“Daniel, don’t open that door.”
Then another voice.
A man’s voice.
“Daniel!”
I opened my eyes suddenly.
Claire grabbed my arm.
“What happened?”
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
“A hallway.”
Her face drained of color.
“And?”
“An exit sign.”
I looked at her.
“And a woman telling me not to open a door.”
Claire stepped backward.
“Who was shouting your name?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
“He found the Chicago photo, didn’t he?”
I stared at the screen.
Another message arrived.
“Good.”
Then another.
“Now ask your wife what happened three days before she met you.”
I slowly turned toward Claire.
“What happened three days before we met?”
She said nothing.
“Claire.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I met Tyler.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“Three days before I met you.”
“You knew him before me?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He introduced us.”
I stared at her.
The room seemed to tilt.
“You’re telling me the man you’ve been sleeping with for six months is the same man who introduced you to me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“Then tell me why Tyler wanted me to meet you.”
Claire covered her face with both hands.
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then a man’s voice whispered:
“Daniel.”
“Who are you?”
“You need to stop asking questions about Emily.”
“Where is she?”
Silence.
“Is she really dead?”
The man breathed slowly.
“Your wife has already told you too much.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“If you want the truth, come alone.”
“Where?”
“The old hotel.”
My blood ran cold.
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
The call ended.
I lowered the phone.
Claire was staring at me.
“Who was it?”
“He wants me to go to the old hotel.”
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s where Emily died.”
Neither of us spoke.
Then Claire whispered:
“Daniel, please don’t go.”
I looked at the photograph of Emily on my laptop.
For the first time, I wasn’t simply afraid of discovering what happened to her.
I was afraid of discovering what I had done there.
And whoever was waiting for me at that hotel knew something I didn’t.
Something about Emily.
Something about Claire.
And something about me.
Most frightening of all, he knew exactly what would happen when I finally remembered the truth.
