Chapter 173

Chapter 173
Lily's POV

I sat there beside the crib for what felt like hours, maybe minutes—I couldn't tell anymore. Time had become strange and slippery, measured only in the rise and fall of William's breathing and the hammering of my own heart.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket with trembling hands. The screen was too bright in the dim room, and I squinted at it, scrolling through my contacts until I found Megan's name.

It rang four times. Five. I was about to hang up when her voice came through, groggy and confused.

"Lily? It's two in the morning. What—"

"I'm leaving him."

Silence. Then: "What?"

"Ryan." My voice cracked on his name. "I'm leaving Ryan. I told him I want a divorce."

"What?" Megan's voice sharpened, suddenly wide awake. "Lily, what—wait, are you crying? What happened?"

I tried to answer, but the words came out in a jumbled rush: Eleanor's ultimatum, the threat to take William, Ryan's phone call about the business enemies, the fear and the control and the realization that I would never, never be free as long as I was married to him.

"They want me to leave him here," I choked out. "They want me to go back to Denver and just—just leave my baby with them. Like he's a package I'm dropping off."

"Oh my God." Megan's voice was low and furious. "Lily, where are you right now?"

"Still at Silver Peak. But I'm leaving. I have to leave. I have to take William and—" I stopped, my breath hitching. "Megan, I don't know where to go."

"Okay. Okay, listen to me." Her voice was steady now, the kind of steady that came from years of being my friend, of knowing when I needed someone to be calm because I couldn't be. "First: are you safe right now? Like, physically safe?"

"I... yes. I think so."

"Good. Second: do you have a plan? Any kind of plan?"

"No." The word came out as a whisper. "I don't know what I'm doing. I just know I can't stay here, and I can't leave William."

There was a pause. Then Megan said, carefully: "Lily... do you have a lawyer?"

"No."

"Do you have money? Like, your own money, not Ryan's?"

I thought about the bank account Ryan had set up for me, the one that was technically in my name but tied to his. The one that would probably be frozen the second divorce papers were filed. Ethan's salary had been generous, but I'd only been working for less than a year—not nearly enough time to build any real savings.

"Not really," I admitted.

Another pause. Then: "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to make some calls in the morning. I have a friend—she went through a custody thing a few years ago. She'll know people. Lawyers who can help."

"Megan, I can't afford—"

"We'll figure it out," she cut me off. "But Lily, you need to promise me something."

"What?"

"Don't do anything tonight. Don't pack your bags and sneak out in the middle of the night. Don't make any big moves until we have a plan. Okay?"

I wanted to argue. I wanted to say that I couldn't stay here, not for another minute, not with Eleanor's cold eyes and Ryan's desperate pleas and the walls of this beautiful prison closing in.

But Megan was right. If I ran now—if I grabbed William and just left—I'd be doing exactly what they'd expect. I'd be proving that I was irrational, unstable, unfit. And that would give them ammunition.

I have to be smart about this.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll wait."

"Good. Now listen: you said William's still breastfeeding, right?"

"Yes."

"Then you have leverage. I don't care how powerful the Carter family is—no judge is going to take a nursing infant away from his mother unless there's a really, really good reason. You're not a danger to him. You're not unfit. You're just... trying to protect him."

Her words settled over me like a blanket. Not warm, exactly, but steadying.

"You think I can do this?" I asked, my voice small.

"I know you can do this," Megan said fiercely. "You're one of the smartest, strongest people I know, Lily. You built algorithms that optimized supply chains. You negotiated contracts with CEOs. You can handle this."

Her voice had that particular quality it always got when she was lying—too certain, too emphatic, like she was trying to convince herself as much as me. We both knew the truth: my algorithms couldn't optimize my way out of a custody battle, and my negotiation skills meant nothing against a family that could buy entire legal teams before breakfast.

I closed my eyes, pressing the phone against my ear.

"I'm scared," I admitted.

"I know. But you're also a mom. And moms do scary things when they have to."

I looked over at the crib, at the tiny shape of my son bundled in soft blankets.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "We do."

After I hung up, I sat there for a long time, my back against the crib, my hand resting on the rail. My mind was still racing, but the panic had dulled to a low, persistent hum.

Okay. I'm not leaving tonight. I'm going to wait for Megan to find me a lawyer. And in the meantime, I'm going to...

What? Pretend everything was fine? Go downstairs and have breakfast with Eleanor like I hadn't just told her grandson I wanted a divorce?

I let out a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob.

One step at a time, Lily.

I pulled myself up off the floor, my legs stiff and aching. William stirred slightly but didn't wake. I leaned over the crib, brushing my fingers lightly over his downy hair.

"I don't know what's going to happen next, baby," I whispered. "I don't have a plan. I don't have money or a lawyer or any idea how to fight them."

He made a soft snuffling sound, his tiny fist curling near his face.

"But I know one thing," I continued, my voice steadier now. "You're my son. Not theirs. Mine. And no matter what it costs, I'm going to keep you with me."

I straightened, my hand still resting on the crib rail. My chest felt tight, but not with panic this time. With something else. Something harder.

Determination.

I didn't know how this was going to end. I didn't know if the law would side with me, or if Ryan would fight me, or if Eleanor would crush me under the weight of the Carter family's power and money.

But I knew I wasn't going to give up. I wasn't going to let them turn my son into a pawn, or me into a ghost.

I'm going to fight.

And for the first time since I'd walked out of that parlor, I believed it.

I moved to the rocking chair by the window and sank into it, pulling a blanket over my lap even though I wasn't cold. The mountains were dark shapes against the night sky, and the house was silent except for the faint sound of William's breathing.

I thought about Ryan. About the look on his face when I'd said the word divorce. The way his voice had cracked when he'd tried to argue, to beg me to stay.

Part of me wanted to go back downstairs, to find him, to tell him I didn't mean it. That I was just scared and angry and desperate.

But I couldn't. Because the truth was, I did mean it.

Not because I didn't love him. God, I loved him so much it hurt. But I couldn't keep living like this—caught between his fear and his family's control, disappearing a little more every day until there was nothing left of me but "Ryan's wife" and "the heir's mother."

I couldn't do it. Not even for William.