“Don’t Come In – Get Out Right Now!” The Maid Yelled. I Ran – And Just Five Minutes Later…

Chapter 4: The Extraction

The next two days were spent developing a plan that, under normal circumstances, I would consider insane. But nothing had been normal for a long time.

Benjamin, initially reluctant, ended up agreeing that we couldn’t wait for the slow legal process, especially with Julian’s threat of taking Emily out of the country.

“You understand this could go wrong in so many ways, right?” he warned me during one of our calls.

“I understand,” I replied. “But standing by while my daughter disappears forever would be much worse.”

Benjamin had contacts. One of them was Marcus, an ex-cop who now worked as a private investigator in Detroit.

Another was Sarah, a psychologist specializing in victims of abusive relationships. They both agreed to help, more out of friendship for Benjamin than belief in my story.

But that didn’t matter. What I needed were competent people, not conviction.

The plan was relatively simple. We needed to create a situation where Emily was alone without Julian for long enough for us to talk to her.

Maria would be crucial for this. She would let us know when Julian left the house, preferably for several hours, and then we would act.

“And what if she doesn’t want to go with you?” Marcus asked during our meeting at a small diner.

“She doesn’t need to want to,” Sarah explained. “In cases of severe psychological manipulation, the victim rarely recognizes their situation. Our mission is to create an interruption in the control to allow her to think for herself, even if just for a few hours.”

“And if he comes back while we’re there?” I questioned, feeling a chill down my spine just thinking about it.

“I’ll be prepared,” Marcus replied.

He didn’t elaborate, but his tone made me believe he knew how to handle men like Julian. The opportunity came three days later.

Maria sent me a message at 9:00 in the morning.

“He’s going to Miami today. Business meeting. Flight at 11:00. He’s not back until tonight. She’ll be home alone.”

My heart pounded. It was now or never.

I met Benjamin, Marcus, and Sarah at the agreed-upon spot—a gas station 10 minutes from Emily’s house. Benjamin looked nervous, constantly checking his watch.

Marcus was calm, almost indifferent, as if we were just there for a casual coffee. Sarah reviewed her notes, likely preparing her psychological approach.

“Remember,” she said. “Emily will probably resist. She might yell, cry, accuse us of being against her. That’s normal. The important thing is to stay calm and project safety.”

At 3:00 sharp, we got confirmation from Maria. Julian had left and the plane had already taken off.

It was our signal. The drive to Emily’s house was made in tense silence; everyone in the car seemed lost in their own thoughts.

I was trying to imagine what it would be like to see my daughter again after so long and under such strange circumstances. We reached the gated community.

Marcus, wearing a delivery uniform and carrying a fake package, managed to get the security guard to open the gate without question. Once inside, we drove slowly to the house.

Maria was waiting for us in the backyard, out of sight of the neighbors.

“She’s in the living room,” she reported, visibly nervous. “Watching TV. She’s not doing well. Barely left her room in the last few days.”

“Any sign of Julian?” Marcus asked.

“None. He called half an hour ago to check if she was home. It’s what he always does. Calls every hour when he’s away.”

“Then we have about 30 minutes before the next call,” Benjamin calculated. “We need to be quick.”

We went in through the back door, which Maria had left unlocked. The house was quiet, except for the low sound of the television coming from the living room.

I walked to the front, my heart beating so hard I thought it could be heard. And then, after more than a year, I saw my daughter.

Emily was sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket despite the heat of the day. She was so thin I almost didn’t recognize her.

Her hair, once long and vibrant, was lifeless, pulled back in a messy bun. Deep dark circles marked her pale face.

My beautiful daughter, always so full of life, looked like a ghost of herself. She didn’t notice our presence at first, absorbed in some TV show she didn’t even seem to be really watching.

When she finally saw me, her eyes flew open in shock.

“Mom,” she whispered, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Hi, honey,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall.

She jumped up abruptly, the blanket falling away. She was wearing baggy pajamas that accentuated her alarming thinness even more.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

I immediately sensed the fear in her voice. It wasn’t just surprise; it was panic.

“We need to talk, Emily,” I said, taking a step toward her. “I’m worried about you.”

She backed away, looking nervously at the strangers with me.

“You can’t be here. Julian will be back soon. You have to leave.”

“Your husband is in Miami,” Marcus informed her calmly. “He won’t be back until tonight.”

The panic in Emily’s eyes intensified.

“How do you know that? Are you spying on me? I’m calling the police.”

She frantically looked for her phone, but Maria had already removed it from the room, just as we planned. Sarah stepped forward, her voice soft and controlled.

“Emily, my name is Sarah. I’m a psychologist, and I’m here to help. We’re not here to hurt you. We just want to talk.”

“I don’t need help,” Emily replied automatically, as if repeating something she’d heard many times. “I’m perfectly fine. You’re the ones with the problem, always interfering in my life.”

The words hit me like daggers, but Sarah had prepared me for this. They were Julian’s words, not Emily’s.

“Honey,” I tried again. “You invited me to dinner, remember? Last Tuesday, you sent me a message.”

Emily looked confused for a moment.

“I didn’t send anything.”

“Yes, you did,” I insisted, showing her the message on my phone.

She stared at the screen, the confusion even more evident.

“That’s my number, but I didn’t write that.”

“It was Julian, wasn’t it?” I asked gently. “He took your phone and sent that message pretending to be you.”

Emily opened her mouth to deny it, but then closed it again as if something was clicking in her mind.

“He… he said it would be good for us to reconcile, that he sensed I was sad about not talking to you anymore. But later he said you canceled, that you didn’t want to see me.”

“I was there, Emily, at the agreed-upon time. But Maria stopped me from coming in because she heard Julian planning something against me.”

Emily looked at Maria, who nodded silently.

“It’s true, child. I heard him talking about making it look like an accident, about how you would inherit everything after your mom fell down the stairs.”