I have been to Boston, MA but know very little about the real estate and demographics so please keep that in mind for the settings in the rest of this story.

Chapter Seven: Found

Three years later.

Near Boston, MA

Henry's birthday cake sat on the table, surrounded by half-eaten plates of party food, and with a crooked number five sinking into the icing, waiting to be lit. Crumbs and confetti littered the floor and a modest pile of presents sat in the corner of the room, saved for when Daddy came home.

But he wasn't coming home. A fact which Regina couldn't compute as she stood and stared at the debris. How had this happened? It wasn't supposed to go this way; they'd been doing better, finding their feet financially since her husband had poured himself into construction and given up his dream.

"Queenie?" a gentle voice sounded next to her. A hand landed on her shoulder and she looked up with dead eyes at her friend and colleague. "I'm so sorry. What can I do to help?"

Bring him back, she wanted to say. Instead, she focussed on the practical task in front of them. "I need to clean up."

Kat opened her mouth to offer something else but appeared to think better of it and nodded. "Ok."

Together, they cleared all of the food, party favours and rubbish from the room and where it had migrated through the door, into the kitchen. It wasn't until Regina stood at the sink, her rubber gloves on and the bowl full of soapy water, that her grief caught up with her. The realisation, that the simple sounds and casual touches to which she was so attuned, would never come again – it clutched her chest and squeezed. They were gone because he was gone. Her best friend. Her lover. Her partner in life.

As she succumbed to wracking sobs, Kathryn appeared by her side and sank to the floor with her.

Beacon Hill, Boston, MA

"Are you sure about this?" Emma asked her friend and business partner of three years. "Isn't it…"

"Excessive?" Ragnar finished for her.

Her response was a gentle expulsion of breath. "Yeah."

Wide, unbelieving eyes scanned the large, open-plan living area. They passed over chic furniture on the lower 'living room' and up a level to a long, black-marble dining table and ebony chairs; a wide archway led into the biggest, shiniest kitchen Emma had ever seen and from bi-folding doors, a balcony ran the length of all three rooms and overlooked the Charles River. A walk-in cloak room and adjoining bathroom was tucked neatly into a corner by the front door and a contemporary spiral-staircase lead up to three generous bedrooms and another bathroom.

Never had Emma been surrounded by such opulence, but to also know that it was hers if she wanted it, that realisation blew her mind.

Ragnar's vision had unfolded well even from the start. He knew his target audience and succeeded ninety per cent of the time in convincing their potential customers that their services were needed. They found lost/missing people, pets and possessions; reunited families and after a few months, branched out as PI's, following – more often than not – cheating spouses. Even if Emma found it distasteful, it was lucrative work.

But it wasn't until six months ago that she really hit the jackpot.

She'd found the missing girl locked in an abandoned log-cabin in the middle of the woods, over a hundred miles from her family's estate. After the FBI had failed to make headway, the girl's distraught mother reached out to friends for advice and Emma's name was passed along. After a couple of days of reading through the case, she'd felt things falling into place – a trail forming in her mind. A newspaper article about an ancestor's lapse into the life of a hermit; the cabin he built and died in; a disgruntled ex-employee of the family swearing revenge.

Once she was sure of her destination, she set off alone, parking in a picnic spot just off the highway and hiking the rest of the way until she came upon a break in the trees. She found a truck and let the air out of the tyres before sneaking around for a while, checking for traps, lookouts or other such dangers. Eventually, she circled the building and found a window which looked in on a small figure huddled under a threadbare blanket.

Emma pulled up to Grace's home in the early hours of the morning and carried the girl inside, to the shock and delight of the family and remaining authorities. She gave the FBI everything they needed to find the cabin and went home to sleep off her adventure. When Ragnar banged on her door just a couple of hours later, she was expecting him to yell at her for going off alone, but he pulled her into a bear hug and chuckled – a low rumble that originated deep in his chest.

"Girl, I should be furious, y'know that?" He set her down and moved into the kitchenette to grab himself a soda and then snatched the TV remote to turn on the news as he sank into the couch. "Look what you did," he added and pointed to the TV, where their business' promo-pic of the two of them sat in the corner of the screen. Grace's mother spoke animatedly to the reporters and sang their praises.

Overnight, they went from a little known but well-respected duo, to national super-stars and personal PI's to the rich and famous. Though the FBI had initially been suspicious of Emma's quick, solo rescue, they dug and came up with no evidence to support claims of inside involvement or a set-up. Emma Swan became known for her sixth sense, dogged work ethic and quick results. Now, not only did she earn hundreds of thousands for rescues and recoveries, she was making millions from sponsorships.

It was more than she'd ever dreamed and she was more than a little worried that she was going to dive headlong into this new world and lose touch with reality. As her mind returned to the property her partner was trying to convince her to buy, those doubts crept in again.

"Look, Swan," the giant of a man began as he stood abruptly and wandered around. "I know you want to put things back into the neighbourhoods where parents and kids are cryin' out for facilities and services. You need money to do that and I'm guessing you don't wanna stop at one or two." He stared out the window at the sprawling city and then turned to her and shrugged. "Some of our clients will keep coming back to us because they know we deliver but some are fickle, girl; once you're out of sight, you're out of mind. If you want those big bucks to keep rollin' in, you've got to stay in the spotlight. Image is a big part of that." He clapped her on the back and looked down at her with an expression that said 'you know I'm right'. "Get the apartment. Then get a building downtown where you can hold fancy functions. Rich folk get bored easily. A few champagne fund-raisers a year will keep them entertained."

It made her nervous to imagine herself as the centre of attention in a room full of powerful people, but when she thought of her plans for some of the poorest communities, she knew she'd find a way to play the part.

Near Boston, MA

Regina left Henry with a neighbour the day of Daniel's funeral. No matter how many times she tried to break it to him that Daddy wasn't coming home, he asked about Daniel as she tucked him into bed or at breakfast the next morning. She was patient with him but the words were draining all the life out of her. It was all so surreal; she felt like she was living outside of herself, in a nightmare that wouldn't end.

In fact, it kept getting worse…

Kathryn and Fredrick dropped her home, where she assured them that she could manage for a few hours alone and bid them goodbye. Thinking that she could squeeze in a shower before she picked her son up, she let herself into the house and immediately knew that something was off. A moment of silence passed, her heart beating rapidly against her chest, before she smelled the perfume and knew who had stolen into her home.

Cora Mills was waiting in the kitchen, her toe tapping impatiently and her nose turned up at every little crack of dry paint and speck of dust. She focussed on her daughter the moment Regina stepped into the doorway. "How can you live like this?" she complained and made a show of running her finger over the counter top.

Knowing that there was no dust or grime on those surfaces because, in an effort to drown her grief in housework, she'd scrubbed it to within an inch of its life, Regina narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you want?" she snarled.

"Honestly, Regina," Mrs Mills started, her laser gaze homed in on her daughter. "Is that any way to greet your mother?"

"It is if I take no joy in seeing you," the young woman replied.

Cora's face hardened. "Tsk, when will you learn? You could have had so much yet you chose this squalor. You've made a veritable mess of your life, Regina. You left me to clean up your chaos; abandoned your duties, for what?"

Regina was fuming and more than ready to do battle with someone. While a niggling voice at the back of her mind told her that something wasn't right about the witch turning up at this time, she was too angry to acknowledge it. "For love, Mother. A concept you struggle to understand, I know."

"On the contrary," Mrs Mills stated, her sour expression evidence of her distaste. "I understand it perfectly. It is what makes you so easy to manipulate."

Feeling the words hit her with the force of a sledge-hammer, Regina's stomach dropped and so did the penny. "What did you do?" she whispered, half afraid of the answer.

"What any good mother would. I made way for you to come home. Now… I've spoken with Leo and he'd willing to try again." She pointedly ignored the expression of horror on Regina's face and went on as if she was performing some huge favour. "He's even willing to find a place for the boy and pay for his education."

Regina stood fixed to the spot, with her mouth hanging slightly open. As her mother's plan unfolded before her, that gut feeling she'd had after her father's death returned to twist her insides. When she heard find a place for the boy, her maternal instincts kicked in. She knew exactly what the witch meant; Henry could live amongst the hired-help and learn his place in the medieval hierarchy which existed in her mother's mind.

"You will leave my son alone," she replied hotly.

"You, ungrateful brat," Cora spat, her tone full of malice. "I am trying to save you from a life of mediocracy. Of poverty. You can't possibly support yourself and the boy without another income. Where will you live when the bank forecloses on your house? How will you eat? What kind of a life would you give him?"

"So, that's it; that's your game?" Regina raged. "First, you get rid of your husband and then mine? How long should I expect Leo White to last? Do you plan on him living through his wedding night, or do you envision his heart giving out on his new, young bride?" Much as she hoped that she was barking up the wrong tree, she found her fears confirmed by the tiny smirk that flashed across her mother's expression.

"Those are very serious accusations," Cora said silkily. She took a step closer, her body moving like a predator. "How do you propose to challenge me on this? You have no evidence and no money to hire a lawyer. That little firm you work for would not last a day against me and you know it." She reached out a hand as if to cup her daughter's face and sighed dramatically when the young brunette flinched away. "You know," she began in a lighter tone, "our assets might benefit from spreading their wings. Their firm might be insignificant now, but with an influx of money, some investment into staff training and equipment…" She pretended to think about it. "Of course, there might be some of your colleagues who won't make the cut. A shame, but we can't allow anyone to drag us down, can we? That blonde paralegal you work with – I don't like the look of her."

Regina's throat dried up as the sinister depths of her mother's plan unfolded. "Is there no level you won't sink to in order to gain power and money? I haven't challenged you for the estate or the business. Is it not enough? I don't want any part of it. Why can't you leave me to live my life?"

"You are my daughter. I sacrificed enough to raise you right and you fought me at every step. I had a vision for you, Regina. I won't give up on it just because you don't know what's good for you. If I have to force you to see the error of your choices, I will." Apparently deciding that was the end of the matter, Cora straightened the sleeves of her coat and made her way to the front door. "I will leave you to settle your affairs and do whatever crying you think is necessary. Get it out of your system, Regina; this charade is over."

It took Regina a little over a week to 'put her affairs in order'. First, she used her connections at the legal firm to push through a quick sale on her home. The equity wasn't much after fees; she had less that she'd taken in cash from her former accounts, but it was enough for a deposit on a modest apartment in the city.

She sold furniture, found a school for Henry and opened new accounts with her maiden-name. There was no point any longer in hiding from her mother – the woman had endless resources to track her down, and was more than prepared to use those resources to force her daughter to return to her former life. As a case in point, Regina found that she had no need to quit her job; when she walked into the office two days after Daniel's funeral, a deafening silence hit her. Her manager called her into his office and ten minutes later, she walked out with her marching orders.

Kat met her by her desk and offered to fight the injustice with her but she managed to calm and reassure her friend that leaving suited her needs.

A strange emptiness grew inside her as she loaded up the car and buckled Henry into his seat. Her dream was dead and she was being forced to leave a life that, while hard at times, was always fulfilling. She should be upset. She should be a broken mess. But all she could feel was the determination to fight against her mother's control.

How long she might last, she didn't know. She just prayed that when she reached breaking point, her luck might change.

How long before Cora makes her next move?