Part 5: Alexander Bennett’s office at the New York Times building was a far cry from his usual corporate suite
Part 5:
Alexander Bennett’s office at the New York Times building was a far cry from his usual corporate suite. Sarah Chen had cleared a space among her investigation boards and files, creating a makeshift command center for their joint mission. Thomas sat nearby, drawing in his sketchbook while the adults worked.
“The transport company was a dead end,” Sarah announced, pinning another document to the board. “Shell corporation, like everything else connected to your father.”
Alexander rubbed his temples, fighting exhaustion. “But we confirmed Catherine’s location.”
“Until yesterday.” Sarah’s expression was grim. “My source says they’re planning another move soon.”
Thomas looked up from his drawing. “She’s in a white building with blue windows. There are lots of flowers outside, and mountains in the background.”
Both adults turned to stare at the boy.
“Thomas, how do you know that?” Sarah asked.
“I see it when I sleep.” He held up his sketchbook. The drawing showed exactly what he’d described — a modern medical facility nestled against a mountain backdrop. “Mom is there. She’s awake now, more than before. And she’s waiting.”
Alexander crossed the room to examine his son’s drawing. After years of dismissing Thomas’s dreams as imagination, he’d learned to listen. “Sarah, any facilities matching this description in your files?”
The journalist was already typing. “Give me a minute… Got it. The Riverside Wellness Center. Opened six months ago in the Adirondacks. Owned by a subsidiary of—” She paused. “Interesting. Not your father’s company. This one traces back to the Wittman family.”
“Julian Wittman.” Alexander’s voice sharpened. “My father’s oldest friend. And Evergreen Psychiatric’s primary stockholder.”
Sarah pulled up more documents. “The connection’s been there all along. We just weren’t looking for it.”
Alexander’s phone buzzed. A text from Marcus Kelly. Got the nurse’s log book. Records of every patient transfer from Evergreen, including where they went. Meeting in twenty.
Before he could respond, Sarah’s computer chimed with an incoming email. Her expression changed as she read it. “Alexander — it’s from Carmen Rodriguez. She’s made contact with Catherine.”
The room seemed to freeze. Even Thomas stopped drawing, his young face intense with concentration.
“She’s lucid,” Sarah continued reading. “They’ve reduced her medication during the transfers. And Alexander — she remembers everything. Every day. Every person. Every detail of what they did to her.”
Alexander gripped the edge of Sarah’s desk, his knuckles white. “The girl. Our daughter.”
“Carmen found her. She’s safe.” Sarah looked up. “But we have to move fast. Your father’s already suspicious of Carmen’s credentials. If he digs too deep, he’ll find out she’s working with us.”
Alexander straightened, decision made. “How soon can you have the story ready?”
Sarah gestured to her investigation board. “The basic framework is done. I just need to verify the Wittman connection.” She paused as another email arrived. “It’s from Nancy, at Evergreen. She’s sending security footage from the night Catherine gave birth — and copies of the real medical records.”
“Dad.” Thomas’s voice was quiet but urgent. “Someone’s here to see you.”
They turned to find Luna standing in the doorway, Carmen Rodriguez beside her. The girl’s resemblance to Catherine was even more striking in the office’s bright light. She clutched her worn backpack with one hand, the faded ribbon visible between her fingers.
“I remember the song,” Luna said softly, her eyes fixed on Thomas’s drawing. “She used to sing it every night, even when they tried to make her stop.”
Thomas walked over to his sister, taking her hand as if they’d never been apart. “I know. I heard it, too.”
Alexander watched his children — the son who’d never stopped believing, and the daughter he’d failed to protect — and felt something shift inside him. The corporate warrior. The dutiful son. The cautious businessman. Those versions of himself fell away. What remained was simply a father, ready to tear down heaven and earth to make his family whole again.
“Sarah,” he turned to the journalist. “How quickly can you get a camera crew to the Riverside Center?”
“Within the hour. I have a contact at Channel 7 who’s been following this story.”
“Carmen?”
The social worker nodded. “Catherine will be ready. But Richard Bennett has a private helicopter on standby if he suspects anything.”
“He already does.” Marcus Kelly strode into the office, waving a file. “Just intercepted this. Transfer orders signed this morning. They’re moving her tonight.”
Alexander looked at the assembled group — the determined journalist, the undercover social worker, the private investigator, and his two remarkable children. Years of power plays and corporate negotiations had taught him to recognize defining moments. This was one.
“Then we move now,” he declared. “Sarah, call your camera crew. Marcus, get me everything you have on Riverside’s security protocols. Carmen — can you get back in?”
“My shift starts in three hours.”
“Good.” Alexander knelt before his children. “Thomas. Luna. Are you ready to help us bring your mother home?”
Their matching expressions of fierce determination were all the answer he needed.
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The Bennett family was about to be reunited. And Richard Bennett was about to learn that some things were more powerful than money, influence, or carefully guarded reputations.
The truth was finally coming to light.
