Chapter 18: HEART BREAK IN A VERY CRITICAL TIME

Chapter 18: HEART BREAK IN A VERY CRITICAL TIME
After speeding through the highway, we finally reached the apartment I had booked, a newly built place where I was certain my enemies couldn’t track me down.

The glass windows gleamed faintly in the fading light, and the quiet of the street gave me a small measure of relief.

The driver helped me carry my bags inside. We didn’t speak much; his silence was respectful, but I could feel his curiosity lingering.

After setting the last bag down, he raised his hand in farewell, his palm slicing through the air as if to say, you’re safe now, at least for tonight.

I waved back with a faint smile, trying to pretend everything was fine. The truth was far from it. As soon as he left, I shut the door quickly, twisted the lock, and leaned against it with a shaky breath.

My hands trembled as I reached for my phone and switched it off, desperate to cut the world out.

But peace didn’t last long. Before I could even steady myself, another message appeared this time from Jack. Or at least, from a private number that claimed to be him.

My pulse quickened. My mind raced in confusion. Jack was supposed to be dead… wasn’t he?

“Why did he text me again?” I whispered, my own voice sounding loud in the empty room. It felt like I was arguing with myself, caught between disbelief and hope.

I opened the message with hesitant fingers.

Leave this place. It might hide you until tomorrow, but it won’t protect you the next day. My wife is dangerous. She is ready to take a life.

The words burned into me. I froze, staring at the screen until my vision blurred. Then I released a long, ragged breath, as though I were some caged lion forced to calm down. His warning clawed at my chest, but I couldn’t bring myself to reply. Privacy concerns, fear, or perhaps a refusal to believe it didn’t matter.

My fingers wouldn’t move. So I powered the phone down again and set it aside, as if turning it off could silence the truth.

I forced myself to order food from the hotel service. Eating felt impossible, but I knew I had to keep my strength. While waiting, I stretched out on the bed and tried to rest. But my thoughts still refused to.

Eventually, I turned my phone back on. I told myself it was for “business reasons,” but in truth, part of me needed connection and needed something else to focus on besides my crumbling life.

The screen took forever to light up. I sat there staring, willing it awake, until finally it buzzed to life. A flood of notifications cascaded down emails, messages, offers from companies.

I hadn’t been online for days, maybe weeks, hiding from both family issues and deadly enemies.

I was about to sift through them when my phone rang. The name on the screen made me pause. Darius. My brother. My breath caught in my throat.

For a long moment, I just stared at the name, debating whether to answer. Finally, I pressed the screen to my ear.

“Hello?”

But the voice on the other end wasn’t Darius. It was my sister.

“Hello, Betty. Where have you been?” she asked softly. Her tone was calm, but I caught the worry threaded through her words.

I froze. Of all people, she was the last I wanted to hear from. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I said quickly, fighting the lump in my throat. “I’m fine, and very far away from your city. Thank you.”

Before she could reply, I ended the call. My composure shattered. I cried loudly into the empty room, my sobs echoing against the walls. It was the first time I had heard her voice since my kidnapping.

But it wasn’t comforting. It reminded me that she was the reason behind all the betrayal that cost Jack his life.

I pressed my palms against my face, forcing myself to stop crying. Focus, I told myself. Don’t lose sight of why you came online.

Scrolling through my inbox, I spotted something unexpected: a message from the Vice President of Mexico. My heart skipped a beat. He was offering me an appointment.

A surge of joy rushed through me, warming me from the inside out. The idea of leaving this country, escaping to another land where my privacy might be respected, filled me with hope I hadn’t felt in months.

The appointment will expire in two days, the message warned.

“Thank God I came online today,” I whispered, clutching my phone tightly.

I typed a reply quickly, apologizing for the late response but promising my full dedication. I pleaded with him to still consider me.

After hitting send, I leaned back with a sigh, the tension in my body easing for the first time in a long while. This opportunity was my lifeline.

I turned off the internet and powered down my phone again. I needed rest. Before lying down, I showered, washing away the sweat and fear that clung to me. The bathroom was close to the room, and the routine helped me breathe easier.

But when I returned, something felt wrong. The room was colder than before, the shadows sharper. It was as though the walls themselves were watching me. Shivering, I crawled into bed and closed my eyes.

Sleep never came. Jack’s warning circled endlessly in my mind. The words my wife is dangerous replayed like a broken record.

Finally, unable to bear the silence, I turned my phone back on. Another message from the Vice President lit up the screen. My heart leapt. It was confirmation they were ready to take me out of New York to Mexico.

A thrill of happiness shot through me. Me, working alongside the Vice President, becoming his right hand woman in my field of study was a dream come true.

They had already arranged my flight. It was scheduled for early morning, the chillest part of the day. I ordered another meal from the hotel, treating myself to comfort food to mark the occasion.

The hours slipped by, day turning to night. I stayed awake, too excited to sleep. The joy of escape filled me, making me restless.

By morning, I set my phone to “Do Not Disturb.” I didn’t want anyone to steal this moment from me. Yet I still kept an eye on it, afraid I might miss an important update.

That was when the first message of the day arrived. My father. His words were raw, heavy with pain. I couldn’t bear to finish reading.

My eyes blurred with tears, but I quickly closed the message. I refused to let his sorrow ruin my day.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen today,” I whispered bitterly.

I wondered if my enemies were using my family against me. But deep down, I knew my parents would never betray me willingly. Still, fear and distrust tangled inside me.

I forced myself to move on. My flight was scheduled for noon, and I had no time to waste. My passport was ready; constant travel had prepared me well.

Soon, the driver arrived at the hotel. I carried my bags, stepped through the quiet hallway, and emerged into the daylight.

Each step felt heavier, as though I were leaving behind not just a building, but an entire chapter of my life.

The hotel itself was unlike any other I had known: secure, strict, unyielding. A place where deceit had no room to grow. As the car pulled away, I whispered to myself, “I love this place. But I must leave to find peace.”

The driver was efficient, speeding smoothly through the streets. Before long, we arrived at the airport. My breath caught when I saw the private jet waiting, gleaming proudly on the runway.

“This is my first time boarding a private jet, just me and my shadow,” I joked to the driver, forcing a laugh.

I passed through security checks quickly at first. Each step brought me closer to freedom. My heart beat faster with anticipation.

Then came the final check. A frown creased the attendant’s face as she reviewed my medical file.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently, “but you cannot make this trip. Your health will not allow you to safely reach your destination.”

Her words shattered me. My knees weakened, and I struggled to breathe. All my joy, all my hope, crumbled into dust.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. Screaming wouldn’t change anything. Instead, I pulled out my phone and called the driver back.

I instructed him to take me to the same hospital where Darius was admitted.

I knew what this meant. Going there risked everything. It meant fa
cing my family again, facing the past I had been running from. But I had no choice. My path was already leading me back to them.

And so, I braced myself. Whatever awaited me at the hospital, I would be ready.