I leaned into my mother's arms and looked at Chester's face, twisted with shock, contorted with disbelief.
Three years.
Three years of suffocation. Three years of tears. Three years of living like a ghost.
In that moment, I finally smiled.
I looked straight at him and spoke, slow and deliberate, every syllable a hammer blow.
"Chester. Look carefully."
"That request form. You never once bothered to read it."
"The person who was kidnapped wasn't my mother."
"It was yours."
"The hostage they just killed was your own mother."
