Audra walked out of the nursing home, her mind racing. She stopped near the lobby restrooms. "I need to use the bathroom," she told the guards, her voice flat.
The guards nodded, standing on either side of the restroom door. Audra slipped inside. She locked the stall and quickly pulled out her phone, dialing the nursing station's internal line. Disguising her voice, she reported a violent code blue emergency in the opposite wing. The moment she heard the heavy boots of her guards sprinting down the hall to secure the perimeter, she slipped out of the bathroom, grabbed a discarded doctor's coat from a laundry cart, and blended perfectly into a crowd of panicked medical staff rushing toward the fake emergency, successfully losing her shadows for a few precious hours.
She emptied her pockets. She had exactly thirty-four dollars in cash. She hailed a yellow cab and gave the driver the address for Eben's corporate headquarters in Midtown Manhattan.
The cab dropped her off a block away. The towering glass skyscraper was surrounded by yellow police tape. A massive crowd of aggressive paparazzi and journalists swarmed the main entrance, waiting to get a shot of the billionaire.
Audra pulled her collar up and hid in the dark shadows next to a large industrial dumpster near the underground parking garage exit. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her eyes glued to the concrete ramp.
At exactly five o'clock, the heavy metal grate rolled up. A fleet of three black Maybachs slowly drove up the ramp.
Audra instantly recognized the middle car. It bore Eben's exclusive, custom license plate. She took a deep breath, her lungs burning with cold air, and sprinted out from behind the dumpster.
Screech!
The agonizing sound of burning rubber filled the street. The heavy Maybach slammed to a halt, the front bumper stopping less than four inches from Audra's kneecaps.
Arthur, the driver, rolled down his window and stuck his head out, his face red with anger. "Are you out of your mind! If you want to kill yourself, do it somewhere else!"
Audra ignored him. She threw her body against the rear passenger door, her hands slapping frantically against the thick, bulletproof glass.
"Eben! Please, just look at me! I beg you!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. The journalists at the front entrance heard the commotion and began running toward the garage, their cameras raised.
The tinted window slowly rolled down halfway.
Eben's face appeared in the gap. His profile was carved from ice. He didn't even turn his head to look at her.
He stared straight ahead and issued a cold command to Arthur. "Run her over."
The Maybach's engine roared to life. The car jerked forward. The sudden movement caught Audra off guard. She was thrown backward, her body hitting the rough asphalt. The skin on her palms tore open, bleeding instantly.
She gritted her teeth against the sharp pain. She scrambled to her knees, ignoring her bleeding hands, and yelled at the departing taillights. "It's your mother! Eleanor wants to see you!"
The moment the name "Eleanor" hung in the air, the bright red brake lights of the Maybach flared. The car stopped dead in the middle of the street.
The rear door swung open. Eben stepped out. His long legs carried him quickly toward her. Flashbulbs erupted around them like a strobe light as the paparazzi finally caught up.
Eben stopped right in front of her. He looked down at her bleeding hands and dirty coat with absolute, unmasked disgust.
"You have the nerve to mention my mother?" he leaned down, his voice a low, lethal hiss meant only for her ears. "When you sold me out three years ago, did you ever stop to think if she would survive the grief?"
Audra reached out, her bloody fingers desperately grabbing the edge of his tailored suit jacket. "I know you hate me. But she misses you so much. She saw the news, and her heart is failing. Please."
Eben let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He violently slapped her hands away, brushing his jacket as if she had infected him with a disease. "Anderson Hopper's dog doesn't get to lecture me about family."
He turned around, ready to walk away.
Audra watched his broad back retreating. She knew this was it. If he got back in that car, Eleanor would die of a broken heart.
She closed her eyes. She let go of the last shred of pride she possessed.
Thud.
A heavy, sickening sound echoed over the clicking of the cameras. Audra dropped to her knees, hitting the freezing, unforgiving asphalt with brutal force.
The flashbulbs went into a frenzy. Gasps of shock rippled through the crowd of journalists and onlookers.
Eben's footsteps stopped abruptly. He slowly turned his head, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of the woman kneeling at his feet.
This was Audra Hill. The woman who used to be so proud she wouldn't bow her head to anyone. Now, she was kneeling in the dirt like a beggar.
"I am begging you. Go see her," Audra said, her voice shaking uncontrollably. She bent forward, pressing her forehead against the cold, dirty street. "If you go, I will do whatever you want. Anything."
Eben's chest rose and fell rapidly. A chaotic storm of emotions raged in his amber eyes. There was vindictive satisfaction, blinding rage, and a tiny, deeply buried stab of physical pain in his chest that he refused to acknowledge.
He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning stark white. He stared down at her trembling shoulders.
"Drive." His voice held not a single shred of warmth, the command sounding like two blocks of ice grinding together, dripping with absolute contempt.
He turned on his heel, got back into the Maybach, and slammed the door. The motorcade sped away, leaving Audra kneeling alone on the street, blinded by the flashes of a hundred cameras and drowning in the mocking whispers of the crowd.
