Back inside Caleb’s room, I moved as quietly as I could.
I folded his small clothes one by one, then slipped important papers into a bag—our passports, his birth certificate, bank cards, anything I knew I wouldn’t be able to replace if everything went wrong again. I didn’t pack much. I had already learned what it meant to survive with almost nothing left.
When I finally lay down, I pulled Caleb close against me. Even in sleep, his body stayed tense—stiff in a way that didn’t belong in a child. I pressed a soft kiss to his hair and let my eyes close.
That was when I heard it.
Footsteps stopping right beside the bed.
“Still acting upset?” Victor’s voice came from the dark, relaxed and almost bored.
The mattress shifted as he sat down. Before I could react, he pulled me into him, one arm locking around my waist like I had never left. His voice softened, almost patient, like he was speaking to someone unreasonable.
“Selene, just calm down and listen,” he said quietly. “That kidnapping was never real. I arranged it so you wouldn’t create problems over Delilah. You know how emotional you get. And Westley? He’s my ally. His men follow rules. Nobody would’ve actually harmed you. I made sure you were safe the whole time.”
He even sounded convinced. Proud, even. Like he was talking about a favor he had done for me.
If he had truly looked at me—really looked—he would’ve seen what it left behind. The fading bruises that never fully healed, the marks I kept hiding under sleeves, the way my body reacted before my mind could catch up whenever someone touched me.
I swallowed hard and turned away from him, putting space between us on purpose.
“So you’re telling me,” I said slowly, voice tight but controlled, “that I should’ve just stayed there? Pretend I ran away with some man? Let everyone call me a disgrace? And let Delilah step into my place like nothing happened?”
Victor went still.
I felt it—the shift in him. The patience cracking, even if he tried to hide it.
But I kept going anyway, even as something deeper inside me started to shake.
Because my memory wasn’t gentle.
Westley’s world never was. His touch was never soft—it was control, possession, something that left no room for escape. Every day blurred into the next inside that locked place that smelled of alcohol and sweat and mocking laughter that never stopped being cruel. I used to scream Victor’s name until my throat tore, begging like it meant something. Westley only laughed and told me I had already been given away. That I was nothing more than something discarded.
When he drank, everything got worse. He would drag me into the light so everyone could see. His men didn’t need to touch me to make me feel trapped—their eyes did that just fine. After a while, I stopped screaming. Screaming didn’t change anything. Silence was the only thing that kept me breathing.
And now here he was.
Behind me.
Breathing calmly.
Talking like none of it ever happened.
“You don’t need to be so dramatic,” Victor said coldly. “If Delilah ends up as his wife in name, it’ll just make things worse with rumors. The wedding was just for appearances. I did it so people would stop saying she seduced me. That’s all. Understand?”
A laugh almost slipped out of me.
So I was the problem because I called her what she was becoming?
I didn’t answer.
That silence irritated him.
His eyes moved across the room—and landed on the bag beside the bed.
His brows pulled together. “Why did you pack?” he asked sharply. “Where exactly do you think you’re going? You just got back.”
Before I could respond, his phone started ringing.
Delilah.
Her voice flooded the room before he even spoke—shaky, tearful, dramatic in a way that felt rehearsed.
“Vic… I don’t feel well,” she cried. “My stomach hurts so badly. I’ve been throwing up. I think something’s wrong with me… I can’t handle this…”
There was a pause.
Then another broken sob.
“Please… talk to her. I know I messed up, but I’ll fix it. I won’t even mention the wedding again. I’ll apologize to everyone if I have to. Just don’t send me away…”
Victor opened the link she sent without hesitation.
The moment he saw the screen, his face changed.
It was a post. My face attached to words I didn’t write—words that twisted everything into something ugly and dangerous.
“I didn’t do that,” I said quickly, sitting up. “That’s not mine. Someone is using my name—”
The sound came before I even finished.
SLAP.
His hand struck my face so hard my head snapped to the side. My ears rang instantly. A metallic taste filled my mouth.
“Delilah is your sister,” he shouted, voice sharp with anger. “Your own sister! And you’re trying to destroy her? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her? You’re disgusting.”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
He already decided.
Turning away from me like I wasn’t worth another second, he softened his voice instantly when he spoke back into the phone.
“Don’t cry,” he said gently. “I’m coming. No one’s sending you anywhere. I’ll handle it.”
And just like that, he left.
The door closed behind him.
And the silence that followed felt heavier than anything before it.
I sat there for a long time, frozen, staring at nothing.
When he left me behind with Westley, did he ever wonder how I survived? Did he ever think about whether I was afraid, hurt, or even alive?
A strange smile tugged at my lips, but there was no warmth in it.
I lay back down and gently patted Caleb’s back as he shifted in his sleep. That night, I didn’t close my eyes again.
**
Morning didn’t feel like relief. It just arrived.
Caleb was burning up before the sun even rose. His small body shook violently in my arms, skin too hot, lips dry and pale. When he cried, it came out weak and broken, nothing like his usual voice.
Panic hit me instantly.
“Baby, I’ve got you,” I whispered, wrapping him tightly in a blanket. “Mama’s here. Stay with me.”
I grabbed my phone and called Victor while holding Caleb close.
“Caleb has a fever,” I said quickly, trying to keep my voice steady. It wasn’t. “It’s high. I’m taking him to the hospital.”
There was noise on his end—movement, keys, a door opening.
For a second, hope flickered.
“I’ll drive,” he said. “I’m on my way.”
My grip tightened slightly in relief.
But then another call came through.
Delilah.
Her voice came through loud before he even fully switched attention—weak, shaky, exaggerated.
“Vic… I feel so sick,” she cried. “My stomach hurts so bad. I can’t even stand. I think something is seriously wrong…”
Silence followed.
Then Victor exhaled, like the decision was already made.
“Selene,” he said, voice already distant, “take him first. I’ll come later.”
Later.
I waited for something else. For him to choose differently. For him to even hesitate.
He didn’t.
The call ended.
I didn’t cry.
I carried Caleb myself downstairs.
The driver rushed out the moment he saw us and immediately opened the door. The car sped off, the world outside turning into a blur of movement and noise like it was trying to escape us.
Caleb whimpered softly against me. I held him tighter, counting his breaths, pressing kisses into his fevered hair.
“Just hold on,” I whispered. “Please… just hold on.”
Then my phone vibrated again.
Messages. Notifications. Posts.
My hands went numb as I read.
Shameless. Cheater. Liar. Trash.
Names I once knew appeared underneath, people I used to trust, adding fuel to a fire I never lit.
I tried to explain.
My fingers shook so badly I kept mistyping. I rewrote everything. Sent it.
Gone. Deleted. I tried again, only for it to disappear once more, as if every attempt I made was being swallowed whole by something I couldn’t fight.
Nothing stayed.
My chest tightened painfully, each breath coming harder than the last, like the air itself had turned heavy.
Then the driver’s voice cut through the suffocating silence, sharp with alarm.
“Ma’am,” he called out.
I lifted my head.
His hands were clenched tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles pale, eyes fixed ahead with growing panic.
“There’s a car behind us.”
My stomach dropped instantly.
I turned around.
At first, there was only one vehicle.
Then another appeared.
And then several more began to surface behind it, closing in like they had been waiting for us all along.
They spread across the road like something intentional, something coordinated, closing in slowly but surely.
“No plates,” he said urgently. “At least ten of them. They’re gaining speed.”
Metal glinted under the sun. Arms hung out of windows. Faces hidden under caps, masks, cloth.
Cold fear sank into my chest.
Caleb stirred, letting out a weak cry. I pulled him closer, shielding him with my body like that alone could stop what was coming.
I grabbed my phone and called Victor.
Once.
Twice.
No answer.
The cars kept closing in.
The driver swerved hard, sweat dripping down his face.
“They’re cutting us off!” he shouted. “Hold on, ma’am!”
