“Your mother once stayed here.”

Isabella’s pulse quickened, a surge of hope and adrenaline flooding her veins. She clutched the note, fingers trembling. She inhaled deeply, willing herself to calm down.

She needed answers now.

She immediately called Ethan.

The line rang and rang. No answer.

She tried again. Still nothing.

Uncertain of his location or when he’d return, she resolved to act alone. Finding her mother couldn’t wait.

She grabbed her purse and rushed out of the hotel. Hailing a taxi, she gave the driver the address from the note.

Anxiety and anticipation twisted inside her during the ride. She clung to hope, yet dreaded another dead end.

After nearly an hour, the cab stopped at the edge of a decaying neighborhood.

Isabella paid and stepped out. She took a steadying breath before entering the rundown area.

Buildings were crumbling. Paint peeled from walls. Garbage littered the ground. The air hung heavy with damp and mildew.

She found the correct building and climbed unstable stairs. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

On the third floor, she stopped before a closed door. After a moment’s hesitation, she knocked softly.

The sound echoed in the silent hall.

A long pause followed. Then, the door creaked open.

An elderly woman with thin gray hair peered out, eyes wide with alarm.

“Excuse me, I…” Isabella began carefully.

The woman studied her intently. “Who are you looking for?”

“I’m searching for…” Isabella paused, gathering courage. “My mother. Jean Hudson.”

Surprise flickered across the woman’s face.

“Your mother?” she repeated, skepticism in her tone.

“Yes,” Isabella confirmed, hope shining in her eyes.

The woman fell silent for a long moment. Then, she delivered the crushing news.

“She doesn’t live here anymore.”

Isabella’s heart plummeted. Disappointment washed over her.

“Do you know where she went?” Isabella pressed, desperation edging her voice.

The woman shook her head. “I don’t.”

Tears threatened. Isabella bit her lip, forcing them back.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, turning to leave.

“Wait,” the woman called out suddenly.

Isabella stopped and looked back, confused.

The woman hesitated, then offered a slender thread of hope. “I don’t know where she is. But she often visited a place.”

Isabella’s eyes lit up. “What place?” she asked eagerly.

“A temple,” the elderly woman said. “On the outskirts of the city.”

“A temple?” Isabella echoed, puzzled.

The woman nodded. “Yes. She went there to pray.”