Chapter 79 Drugged
Olivia's POV:
The Brussels morning was gray and dreary as I dragged myself onto Ethan's private jet. I'd spent most of the night thinking, turning possibilities over in my mind until well past two in the morning, only to wake up at five. Three hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough to face what lay ahead.
My brain felt foggy as I sank into the plush leather seat. Philippe had called last night, relaying Ethan's instructions that I leave Brussels ahead of schedule. The sudden change of plans left me unsettled, but I knew better than to question Ethan's decisions.
"Would you like anything before takeoff, Miss Reed?" the flight attendant asked.
"Just water, thank you," I mumbled, hoping to catch up on sleep during the flight.
Once we were airborne, I reclined my seat and closed my eyes, desperately seeking rest. But sleep, when it came, was fitful and shallow. The gentle hum of the engines, normally soothing, seemed to amplify my anxiety. I drifted in and out of consciousness, each awakening leaving me more exhausted than before.
By the time we deplaned, my head was throbbing painfully. The lingering effects of the pressure changes during landing sent sharp pains through my ears, and waves of nausea rolled through my stomach as I made my way through the terminal.
"Are you alright, Miss Reed?" The security guard Ethan had assigned eyed my pale face as we walked through the terminal.
"Fine," I lied, though I was anything but. My ears were ringing, the fluorescent lights seemed unbearably bright, and I could barely walk straight.
"I need to use the restroom," I managed, my voice weak.
The guard nodded. "Of course." Then, seeming to remember I had no phone, he added, "I'll wait outside the door for you."
I made my way to the ladies' room, gripping the edge of the sink as soon as I got inside. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it might help. It didn't. Leaning over the basin, I dry-heaved a few times, panic rising in my chest.
Shit. What if I'm pregnant?
The thought hit me like a bucket of ice water. During those seven or eight days Ethan had locked me away, he'd finished inside me every night, refusing to let me take any pills. We'd used protection since leaving the country, but those earlier days... I couldn't be certain.
No, it's too soon for symptoms, I reasoned with myself. This is just exhaustion and jet lag. Nothing more.
As I tried to steady my breathing, a hand tapped my shoulder. I whirled around, startled, and found myself facing a tall woman with flaming red lips, golden blonde waves, and an emerald French dress with two enormous... somethings... strapped to her chest.
"You!" I gasped, recognizing Blake beneath the ridiculous disguise. His fake breasts were comically large, clearly stuffed balls or padding of some kind.
"How are you here? Why are you dressed like..." I trailed off, looking around nervously. "Are you hiding from—"
"I came specially to find you," Blake interrupted in a forced falsetto that sent chills down my spine.
"Please, just leave me alone," I begged, brushing his hand away. "Don't you understand what happens when you contact me? The last time you showed up, do you have any idea what he did to me afterward?"
Blake gripped my shoulders, his gaze intense. "Olivia, be honest with me. Do you want to leave Ethan?"
I shook off his hands. "As if it's that simple! As if what I want even matters!"
"It matters to me," Blake said, flipping his blonde wig out of his face, still maintaining that awful high-pitched voice. "If you want to leave him, I can make it happen."
I let out a humorless laugh. "Leave? How exactly? He has people watching me. He's taken my phone. I still have school in LA. Tell me, how am I supposed to leave him?"
"That's why I'm here waiting for you." Blake reached into his oversized mommy-bag and pulled out a stack of plane tickets. "This one's for DC, this for London, Vancouver, Tokyo, Seoul, Bangkok... Where do you want to go?"
I stared at him, speechless.
"The Vancouver flight leaves soonest," he continued, his excitement building. "To be safe, we'll fly to Vancouver first, then Tokyo, then Bangkok. My aunt lives there. Her husband is a high-ranking military official—Ethan wouldn't dare touch us. Once you're settled, I'll have someone handle your withdrawal from UCLA, and we'll get you into a university there."
My head spun as Blake produced a silver wig and boy's clothing—a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers—from his bag and thrust them into my arms.
"Change in the stall," he urged. "That guard is just some muscle-head who barely knows you. Dressed as a teenage boy, you could walk right past him and he'd never recognize you."
When I didn't move, Blake adjusted the wig onto my head. The silver strands just brushed below my ears, leaving only my pale earlobes visible. He removed my pearl earrings, replacing one with a black stud.
"See?" he said, positioning me toward the mirror. "Total transformation. Now change your clothes, and we're out of here."
I stared at my reflection. The difference was striking. But my stomach knotted with anxiety.
"No," I said finally, removing the wig and handing it back. "Blake, thank you, but I can't leave him right now."
"Why not?" He nearly shouted, his voice dropping to its natural bass.
"My grandfather was hospitalized—Ethan helped with his treatment. My grandmother recently had high blood pressure issues—again, Ethan helped." I shook my head. "I can't just walk away."
Blake grabbed his hair in frustration, tangling the blonde wig. "And you don't think I could help you? If I hadn't taken you to meet my family that day, you never would have met him! You wouldn't be in this situation!"
"It doesn't matter now," I said, turning to leave. "Please, stop trying to contact me. You're endangering yourself and making things worse for me."
Blake reached for my face, but I quickly batted his hand away. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly the carefree playboy demeanor vanished.
I walked away, but had taken only two steps when I felt a sharp sting in my neck, like an ant bite.
"What—" I began to turn, but Blake's arm wrapped forcefully around my waist.
"Blake, what are you doing?" I struggled against him, horror dawning as I realized what was happening.
He dragged me into the nearest stall, his hand covering my mouth.
"I'm saving you," he whispered, pulling the silver wig over my head.
Thirty seconds later, darkness claimed me, and I collapsed into his arms.