Ive suspected my husband of being unfaithful for months. The late-night meetings, all those unexplained trips to the workshop for parts, and, worst of all, unfamiliar scents clinging to his clothes. I tried to swallow my doubts, to trust him, but in the end, I hired a private investigator who promised me answers within a few days. This morning, my phone vibrated: a message with a short address, no details. Go there immediately. Its important. You must see for yourself.
The drive was excruciatingalmost an hour into the countryside, the city of Birmingham shrinking in my rearview mirror. Eventually the road narrowed, country lanes twisting through thick woodland, my heart pounding so loudly I could almost hear it echo off the dashboard.
All the way, I braced myself to find a mistresss cottage or perhaps our own silver Volkswagen secretly tucked outside some little stone farmhouse.
But when I arrived, I didnt see anything like that. Instead, a derelict old brick outbuilding sat alone amidst the treesa place that looked a million miles away from any kind of love affair. No cars. No sign of a living soul.
I stepped out, phone clutched tightly, nerves wound as tightly as my grip. I was ready to call the detectiveor the policeat the slightest hint of trouble. The doors to the outbuilding were ajar, as if someone had only just gone inside.
Nothing I had imagined could have prepared me for what was inside.
I edged closer and pushed one of the heavy wooden doors; it groaned open, the sound oddly sinister in the quiet. Damp and rust hit my nose, and the floor was littered with rubbish, old papers, and broken crates. In the far corner, a wooden panel seemed out of placetoo new, too neat.
I stepped over and ran my fingers along its edge. It slid aside with a soft, reluctant creak, revealing a narrow room hidden behind the wall. Inside, on a filthy old mattress, sat a womanalive, but gaunt and pale. A length of chain gleamed dully, attached to her ankle.
I froze, the world spinning. The woman slowly lifted her head. Every movement seemed to cost her dearly.
Youre his wife? she said, her voice little more than a whisper. You werent supposed to come. He promised youd never find out.
My own words caught in my throat. Who? I stammered.
She turned her face away, tears welling in her eyes. Your husband. Hes kept me here for seven months. Said he was looking for my replacement.
And it was only then I noticed, at the edge of the mattress, a tray of foodthe soup still steaming. Someone had been here just moments before.
Suddenly, rapid footsteps thudded behind me. The police had arrived, called by the detective. My world shattered, leaving me staring, numb with horror, at the truth I had never wished to find.
