Chapter 15: BROKEN PROMISES

Chapter 15: BROKEN PROMISES

“Now he’s dead… I’m free, yet unfree at the same time.” I whispered the words into the empty hospital room, but they echoed back into my chest like a heavy stone.

Jack’s death did not feel real. The man who once seemed larger than life, who shielded me in ways I never asked for but silently appreciated, was now nothing more than a memory. He had always been helpful to me—even when his presence brought complications into my life. The least I could do was pay my last respects.

With trembling hands, I peeled off my hospital clothes. I didn’t want anyone questioning me, or worse, suspecting where I was going. My body still ached, but I forced myself to stand, to walk, to move. The air in the corridor was sharp, heavy with the scent of disinfectant and death, yet it felt thinner than the air in my lungs.

I hurried through the hospital, my heart thundering in my chest. When I reached the morgue where Jack had been kept, my knees nearly gave way. I thanked God that I arrived before they closed him away forever.

There he was—still, pale, cold. A shadow of the man who once commanded every room he entered. I rushed forward, falling to my knees, clinging to his lifeless body as sobs tore from my throat. My tears spilled freely, burning my skin.

“Jack…” My voice cracked. “Why did you leave me with all of this?”

His security men rushed in, trying to pry me away. Their voices blurred together—“Miss, please… let go, miss…”—but I could not. My fingers clutched his clothes as though if I held on long enough, he would breathe again.

Dylan appeared suddenly, her footsteps urgent. Her eyes, red with unshed tears, met mine. She knelt beside me, whispering, “You need rest, please.” Her words were kind, but her voice trembled, betraying her pain. She gently pulled me up, her arms supporting my weak frame, and together we walked back toward my hospital room.

On the way, a sharp pang of fear stabbed through me. From the corner of my eye, I saw them—my mother and sister. My breath caught, and quickly, I turned my face away, covering it with trembling hands.

“Don’t ask questions,” I whispered to Dylan.

She nodded without hesitation, respecting my plea. We walked past them silently. My chest tightened, not only from fear but from the eerie chill that washed over me. It felt as though Jack’s spirit had brushed through me in that exact moment, a ghostly reminder that he was gone.

They entered the room where Jack’s body was kept. I swallowed hard, my mind screaming, They must not see me here.

Finally, after weaving through the hospital halls, Dylan and I reached my room. She looked pale, weak, dizzy. “I’ll rest for a while,” she murmured, promising she would return soon.

Before she left, the nurse injected me with medication, saying it would speed up my healing. My body ached with exhaustion, but my mind spun with fear and guilt. Alone in the room, my thoughts turned dark.

What if my parents found out I was here? What if they discovered I was admitted to the hospital because of my secret affair with the late Mr. Jack? The shame would be unbearable.

I switched off the light and curled up under the blanket, praying for silence. At some point, exhaustion won, and I drifted into uneasy sleep.

By morning, I stirred to find my body slightly stronger, though weakness still clung to my limbs. I sat up, ready to eat the meal brought for me, when a sharp knock echoed on the door.

My heart raced. Slowly, I opened it.

Jack’s security men stood there, their faces solemn.

“Ma’am,” one of them said, his tone formal yet heavy with remorse, “we, the security and staff of the late Mr. Jack’s companies, deeply apologize on his behalf for the situation you’ve been dragged into. We are truly sorry. And we must inform you—the kidnapping case is still ongoing. We are searching for the boss lady behind it.”

The room spun slightly. I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. “Listen carefully. Jack is gone now. He was not my boyfriend, not my husband. He was just… a friend. A friend who helped me.”

They exchanged glances, nodded respectfully, and left after delivering their message.

I closed the door and sank onto the bed, picking at my food half-heartedly. Dylan soon returned, her presence like a ray of comfort.

“Morning!” she said brightly.

“Thanks, ma’am,” I murmured, forcing a smile though my chest still ached with unspoken fears.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m no longer safe,” I muttered, my voice louder than I intended.

Dylan’s brows knitted. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” I said quickly, trying to cover my slip. But I could see the concern in her eyes. She knew something was wrong, even if she couldn’t yet name it.

Inside, I already knew what I had to do. I needed to leave this country. If Jack’s family discovered I was in the same hospital as Darius, everything would spiral out of control.

That evening, Jack’s manager appeared at my door. It was my first time meeting him, and though his face looked strangely familiar, I dismissed it. He greeted me respectfully and honored what he thought was my “relationship” with Jack.

I shook my head. “There was no relationship. We were only friends. Nothing more.”

He smiled faintly and handed me his contact card. “Call me if you ever need anything urgently. Mr. Jack made sure we’d assist you whenever necessary.”

His words lingered in my mind long after he left. This might be my only chance to get out quickly.

Later that night, after one last round of treatment, the doctor told me I would be discharged the next day. I kept my excitement hidden until the nurses left, then I allowed myself a small, private celebration.

I immediately contacted the manager, begging him to arrange a flight for me—urgent, at 2 a.m. He listened, understood, and promised to handle it.

At midnight, Dylan helped me pack my things. Together, we slipped out of the hospital quietly. At the gate, she hugged me tightly. I memorized her face at that moment—gentle, loyal, worried.

“Stay safe,” she whispered.

I smiled faintly, waved goodbye, and entered the security car.

The ride to the airport took about thirty minutes. The road stretched endlessly under the night sky, and we even stopped briefly to grab food. My heart pounded with every passing minute, knowing freedom was just within reach.

But at the airport, things changed.

At the security check, they delayed me without reason. “Please,” I begged, “hurry. My flight is coming soon.”

They ignored me, taking their time, patting me down again and again, searching my bags twice over. The minutes slipped away like sand through my fingers. Nearly an hour later, they finally let me through.

I sprinted to the boarding gate—only to see the plane taking off.

“No! No, this can’t be happening!” My voice broke into a desperate scream. I begged the staff, but they stood cold, unmoved, as though my pain was invisible.

Defeated, I called the manager. He sighed heavily and apologized, offering me an apartment to stay in temporarily.

I tried calling Dylan, but her line was unreachable. My chest sank, heavy with exhaustion. With no other choice, I went to the apartment and fell into restless sleep.

The next morning, my phone buzzed with a message. I ignored it at first, too weary to care. Hours later, when I finally opened it, my world tilted.

It was from Dylan.

“Hi Betty, I just went through your results and found out you’re carrying some eggs in your womb.”

My stomach clenched. My heart raced.

“What?” I gasped aloud. “What did I just read? Who… who is responsible for this baby?”

The walls seemed to close in around me. My thoughts collided—Jack? Darius? Could it be possible? No. No!

I sat frozen, unable to reply. My hands shook as I stared at the message again and again. Words failed me, leavin

g only silence, fear, and disbelief.

For the first time, I realized my life was no longer mine alone.