Chapter 69
Elara
The SUV's leather seat was cold against my thighs.
I sat in the back, watching Manhattan blur past the tinted windows. Early morning commuters flooded the sidewalks—briefcases, coffee cups, purposeful strides. Normal people living normal lives.
I pressed my forehead against the glass. The coolness helped with the nausea.
"Miss Vance." Atlas's voice came from the front seat. Professional. Distant. "Is the temperature acceptable?"
"It's fine."
We merged onto the bridge. Queens stretched ahead, all brick and billboards.
I couldn't stop replaying it. Julian's hands on my skin. His weight pressing me into that red velvet bed. The way he'd looked at me this morning—calm, calculated, like he'd just closed a business deal.
My stomach lurched. I swallowed hard, tasting bile.
"Atlas." The word came out rough. I cleared my throat. "Can I ask you something?"
His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. Gray, unreadable.
"Of course, Miss Vance."
"Julian..." I paused, searching for the right words. "Does he... do this often?"
The silence stretched. Three seconds. Five. Ten.
"I'm afraid I don't understand the question," he said finally.
Liar. He understood perfectly.
"Bring women to hotels. Make them..." I couldn't finish.
"Miss Vance." His tone shifted, became somehow gentler while remaining completely impersonal. "I only execute Mr. Vane's instructions. I don't ask questions about his... personal affairs."
"So you do clean up his messes."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"It's my job," he said quietly. "That's all it is."
I laughed. It came out bitter, hollow. "Right. Just following orders."
He didn't respond. Didn't need to.
The silence was answer enough.
---
We were somewhere in Queens when it hit me.
My whole body went rigid.
Oh God.
Oh God, did he—
I tried to remember. Forced myself through the fog of last night—the alcohol, the fear, Julian's mouth on mine. His hands pulling off my clothes. The sharp pain when he first pushed inside.
And after. When he'd moved faster, harder, his breathing ragged against my neck. That final moment when he'd—
My hand flew to my mouth.
"Miss Vance?" Atlas glanced back. "Are you unwell?"
I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.
Lily.
My baby girl had come into this world because of a night I couldn't even recall. Because I'd had no choice, no control, no—
Not again.
I can't let it happen again.
"Atlas." My voice shook. "Stop the car."
"Pardon?"
"I said stop the car. Now."
He hesitated, then smoothly pulled over. We were in front of a Duane Reade, its bright sign garish in the morning light.
He turned to face me fully. "Is there a problem?"
I stared at my hands. They were trembling.
"I need to..." The words stuck in my throat. Heat flooded my face. "I need to buy something."
He waited.
I closed my eyes. Forced the words out in a rush: "Plan B. Emergency contraception."
The silence that followed felt like drowning.
When I opened my eyes, Atlas was watching me. His expression hadn't changed—perfectly neutral, perfectly professional. But something in his gaze made me want to disappear into the leather seat.
He was calculating. I could see it. Weighing this request. What it meant. Whether Mr. Vane would approve.
My fingers clenched into fists. "I have a right to protect myself."
I lifted my chin, met his eyes in the mirror. "It's my body."
More silence. Then:
"You'll wait in the car." His tone was final. "I'll purchase it."
I bit my lip. "...Fine."
Atlas stepped out. The door shut with a soft click.
Through the window, I watched him walk into the pharmacy. Tall, composed, his suit jacket perfectly pressed. Like he was running any ordinary errand for his employer.
Not buying Plan B for the woman his boss had fucked last night.
I hunched forward, arms wrapped around my knees.
Inside the store, I could see the aisles. The checkout counter. A woman in a blue vest stocking shelves.
I imagined Atlas walking past the greeting cards, the candy displays. Finding the family planning section. Picking up that blue and white box.
What must he think of me?
A girl who needs emergency contraception the morning after sleeping with her boss. A girl who's stupid enough to get into this situation in the first place.
Tears burned behind my eyes.
I remembered sex ed class at St. Valerius. Ms. Chen's matter-of-fact voice: "Plan B is a backup option for when other contraception fails or isn't used. But the best protection is always communication and consent before sex."
Consent.
"Did I consent?"
I shook my head hard. Now wasn't the time. Right now, I just needed to make sure I didn't end up pregnant.
---
Five minutes crawled by like hours.
Then Atlas emerged, a white plastic bag in his hand.
He slid back into the driver's seat, expressionless. "Here."
I took the bag with shaking hands. Opened it.
Plan B. A bottle of water. And—
"Ibuprofen?" I stared at the box.
"Emergency contraception can cause side effects," Atlas said, his tone utterly neutral. "Nausea. Headaches. Cramping. Ibuprofen helps."
I didn't know what to say. This small kindness—if I could even call it that—made everything worse somehow.
"...Thank you."
"Don't thank me." He started the engine. "It's just work."
Then, almost casually: "Miss Vance, I'd advise against mentioning this to Mr. Vane."
My head snapped up. "What?"
His eyes found mine in the mirror. "Mr. Vane didn't specifically instruct me regarding... post-encounter precautions. Which suggests he may not have considered the possibility of pregnancy."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"If he learns you've taken emergency contraception, he may view it as... presumptuous. An unauthorized decision regarding something he considers his concern."
My blood ran cold.
"You're saying he'd be angry. That I made this choice without his permission."
Atlas didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Oh God.
In Julian's mind, even whether I got pregnant wasn't my decision to make.
"Will you tell him?" I whispered.
"My job is to execute Mr. Vane's instructions, not monitor your private medical decisions." He pulled back into traffic. "But if he asks me directly, I won't lie."
---
I couldn't wait.
If Atlas did tell Julian—if Julian decided to stop me—
My hands shook as I tore open the box. Pulled out the single white pill.
I twisted the water bottle cap. Threw my head back. Swallowed.
The pill caught in my throat. I chugged more water, nearly choking. It finally went down.
I coughed, water dribbling down my chin.
Atlas glanced back but said nothing.
I slumped against the seat, eyes closed. Waiting for the pill to do its job.
72 hours for maximum effectiveness. The sooner, the better.
But the warnings scrolled through my mind: Nausea. Vomiting. Dizziness. Abdominal pain. Irregular bleeding.
My stomach was already churning. I couldn't tell if it was the medication or just my body's reaction to everything that had happened.
---
The rest of the drive passed in silence.
My phone buzzed. Mamá.
"Elara, where are you? You didn't come home last night. I'm worried."
I stared at the message. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Finally, I typed two words: "I'm fine."
Sent it.
Put the phone face-down in my lap.
---
Back at the apartment in the iron district, I quickly rushed into the bathroom. Mama went to work, and Yuki and Diego were not there, which made me breathe a sigh of relief. In the bathroom, I finally looked at myself.
Julian's white shirt, wrinkled and smelling like his cologne. My hair a mess. Dark circles under my eyes. And on my neck, my collarbone—bruises. Bite marks. Evidence.
I turned on the shower. Peeled off his shirt. My skirt.
When I pulled down my underwear, I saw it.
Blood.
Not much. Just a little spotting.
I sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the red stain.
My body had reset when I came back. Back to before Lily. Before Boston. Before everything.
And last night, Julian had—
A cramp seized my lower abdomen. Sharp, twisting.
"The Plan B," I told myself. "Just side effects."
But it felt like punishment.
I was lying in bed, curtains drawn, when my phone buzzed.
Ms. Rivera.
"Elara—The board has decided to let me keep my position. 'Suspended pending review' has been changed to 'reassignment.' I'll be teaching at a different school next semester. Take care of yourself. —A.R."
I read it three times.
Julian.
This was his doing. His "reward" for my compliance.
He'd saved Ms. Rivera's job. Moved her somewhere else, away from me. Clean. Efficient.
"See?" his voice echoed in my head. "I take care of the people I care about. All you have to do is cooperate."
I set the phone down.
Stared at the ceiling.
The cramps were getting worse. My head pounded. Nausea rolled through me in waves.
"This is what it costs," I thought. "This is the price of staying free."