Chapter 73 Flight
Elena: POV
Where do I go?
Then it hit me.
Florida.
Mom was in Florida. She'd moved there two weeks ago. Said she needed a fresh start. Warm weather. A little house by the beach.
She'd understand. She always did.
I could tell her I needed a vacation. Some time to clear my head. She wouldn't ask questions. Wouldn't judge.
She'd just... hold me.
The way she did when I was little. When I scraped my knee. When other kids made fun of my secondhand clothes.
Mom will know what to do.
I grabbed my phone. Started searching for flights.
JFK to Tampa. 6:45 a.m. $287.
I could make it. If I left now.
My finger hovered over "Purchase."
Then I heard it.
Footsteps.
Outside. On the gravel driveway.
I froze.
Someone's out there.
I crept to the window. Pulled back the curtain just a crack.
A dark figure. Standing near the gate. Cigarette glowing orange in the darkness.
Julian's security.
Of course. He'd said it himself three days ago. "I've arranged protection for you."
At the time, I'd thought it was sweet. Protective.
Now it felt like a cage.
I looked down at my phone. At the flight booking page.
How do I get past them?
---
I spent the next hour planning.
The villa had multiple exits. Front door. Kitchen door. The side entrance near the garden.
Security would be watching the main gate. Maybe the driveway.
But they wouldn't expect me to leave at four in the morning.
They'd think I was asleep. Grieving. Broken.
Good.
I changed into dark clothes. Black leggings. Oversized hoodie. Sneakers.
Stuffed cash into my pockets. Three hundred dollars I'd been saving. Just in case.
Just in case of this.
I looked around the master bedroom one last time.
Cream walls. Silk curtains. The bed where Julian had touched me. Kissed me. Promised things he never meant.
Three years I'd lived here.
Three years of pretending.
I pressed my palm against my stomach.
"We're leaving, baby," I whispered. "Going somewhere safe."
Somewhere Julian couldn't find us.
Somewhere he couldn't pressure me to "terminate" if the tests came back wrong.
I grabbed my bag. Headed downstairs.
The villa was dark. Silent. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like thunder.
I made it to the kitchen. Pulled out my phone.
Checked the security camera feed. Julian had given me access months ago. "So you feel safe," he'd said.
So you feel trapped, I thought now.
Two guards. One at the front gate. One patrolling the perimeter.
Shit.
I watched the patrol guard's pattern. He circled the house every fifteen minutes.
I had a window. Small. But enough.
I waited until he passed the kitchen door. Counted to sixty.
Then I slipped outside.
---
The November air bit through my hoodie.
I stayed low. Moved quickly across the lawn.
The side gate. That was my target. It led to the neighbor's property. Abandoned house. No one lived there.
From there, I could cut through to the main road.
I was almost at the side gate when—
"Mrs. Sterling?"
Fuck.
A flashlight beam hit my face. Blinding.
I stumbled. Shielded my eyes.
The patrol guard. Younger than I expected. Maybe twenty-five. Concerned expression.
"Mrs. Sterling, are you alright? It's four in the morning—"
Think. Think fast.
"I—I couldn't sleep." I made my voice shake. "I just needed some air. The baby—" I touched my stomach. "All the stress. The doctor said walking helps."
He hesitated. Radio in hand.
"Does Mr. Sterling know you're out here?"
"He's not here." True. "And I'm just walking in my own yard." Also true. Technically.
The guard shifted. Uncomfortable.
"I should really call this in—"
"Please don't." I stepped closer. Let tears fill my eyes—not hard, given everything. "He'll just worry. I'm fine. Really. I just—I've been cooped up in that house for days. I feel like I'm suffocating."
His expression softened. "I understand, Mrs. Sterling. But it's not safe out here alone in the dark."
"Could you just... walk with me for a few minutes? Just around the garden?" I gestured toward the hedge-lined path. "Then I promise I'll go back inside."
He looked torn, then nodded. "Alright. But just a quick walk."
"Thank you," I whispered.
We walked together toward the garden. I kept up a stream of nervous chatter—about the baby, about not being able to sleep, about how beautiful the night air was.
When we reached the hedge, I paused. "Actually, I think I left my phone on the bench over there. Could you grab it for me? I don't want to walk on the wet grass in these shoes."
He glanced at the bench—barely visible in the darkness, about twenty feet away.
"Of course. Wait here."
The moment he turned away, I moved.
Silent. Fast.
Behind the hedge. Through the gap I'd spotted earlier.
To the side gate.
I heard him call out behind me. "Mrs. Sterling? I don't see a phone—Mrs. Sterling?"
But I was already through the gate. Already in the abandoned yard.
His voice faded as I ran through the overgrown grass.
"Mrs. Sterling? Mrs. Sterling!"
I didn't stop.
Found the street. Empty. Dark.
Pulled out my phone with shaking hands.
Called an Uber.
"Come on come on come on—"
Driver found. Arriving in 3 minutes.
Thank God.
I limped to the corner. Out of sight from the villa.
My phone buzzed. Julian.
[Please. Let's talk when you wake up. I'm sorry.]
I stared at it.
Part of me wanted to respond. To say I'm sorry too. Come back. Hold me.
But I couldn't.
Not after what he said.
I don't know if I want this baby.
Those words. They'd split something inside me. Something that might never heal.
I deleted the message.
The Uber pulled up. Gray Honda. Middle-aged driver.
"JFK Airport," I said, climbing in. "And can you take the back roads? I'm... trying to avoid traffic."
Lie. But he didn't need to know that.
He nodded. Started driving.
I pressed my forehead against the cold window. Watched the mansion disappear behind us.
Mom's in Florida. Warm beaches. Palm trees. Far from here.
Far from Julian.
Far from the doctors who'd tell me my baby might be "defective."
Far from the choice I'd never make.
I touched my stomach.
"We're going to be okay," I whispered. "I promise."
The baby didn't respond. Too small yet.
But I felt... something. A flutter. Maybe just my imagination.
Or maybe hope.
---
The Uber took side streets. Away from the main avenues.
Quieter. Darker.
"You sure about this route?" I asked.
The driver shrugged. "You said avoid traffic."
"Yeah. But—"
He pulled over.
Sudden. Sharp.
My head jerked forward.
"What—why are we stopping?"
He didn't answer.
Just got out.
What the fuck?
I reached for the door handle.
Too late.
Three men appeared. From the shadows. From nowhere.
One yanked open my door.
"Hey sweetheart." His breath reeked of cigarettes and something worse. "Going somewhere?"
I tried to scream.
A hand clamped over my mouth.
"Quiet." Another voice. Rough. Mean. "We don't want to hurt you."
"Yet," the third one added. Laughed.
I bit down. Hard.
Tasted blood.
"Fuck! Bitch bit me—"
I kicked. Connected with something soft.
A grunt.
I scrambled out the other side of the car.
Run. Run. RUN—
Strong arms grabbed me from behind.
Lifted me off my feet.
"Feisty. I like that."
No. No no no—
I thrashed. Clawed at his arms.
"Someone said you were pregnant." His mouth was right by my ear. Hot. Disgusting. "Shame. You got a nice body."
Oh God.
"Let me GO—"
"Boss said make it look like an accident." Another voice. "Rough her up. Make her lose the kid."