Chapter 6 - Shadows on the Coast
Spring arrived on the Washington coast with brilliant bursts of wildflowers and crisp blue skies. Evelyn sat on the porch of the clinic, rocking gently in a wicker chair as the ocean breeze carried the salty scent of low tide. She was nearly eight months pregnant now. Her belly was full, round, and heavy, carrying the promise of a boy who would arrive before the summer solstice.
Thomas walked out, wiping his hands on a clean towel and handing her an apple. “Your vitals look incredible, Evelyn. Little guy’s heartbeat is as steady as a diesel engine.”
Evelyn laughed softly, taking a bite. “He kicks like a soccer player every night at eight o’clock on the dot. I think he’s going to be stubborn.”
“Takes after his mother,” Thomas teased warmly, leaning against the wooden railing. Over the past few months, the unspoken affection between them had grown deep and comforting. Thomas had never pushed her boundaries; he respected the shadows in her eyes, offering safety without demanding her secrets.
Suddenly, a sleek black SUV with tinted windows rolled slowly down the quiet harbor street. It didn't look like the rusted pickup trucks or sturdy wagons of the locals. It moved with the predatory patience of Manhattan wealth. The vehicle stopped fifty yards away, near the bait shop. A man in a dark suit stepped out, holding a tablet and surveying the pier.
Evelyn froze. Her breath caught violently in her throat.
Even across the distance, she recognized the build, the posture, the cold professional stance. It was Marcus. Adrian’s chief of security.
“Evelyn? What's wrong?” Thomas asked instantly, noticing the sudden loss of color in her cheeks. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You’re shaking.”
“They found me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with sheer terror. “He found me.”
Thomas didn't ask questions. He immediately stepped between Evelyn and the street, blocking her from view. “Stand up slowly. Walk inside the clinic through the back door. My truck is parked behind the dispensary. Go.”
Evelyn didn't hesitate. She clutched her swollen stomach and hurried through the rear corridor, slipping out into the alley behind the clinic. But just as Thomas unlocked the passenger door of his truck, a deep, raspy voice echoed through the damp coastal air.
“Evelyn.”
She stopped dead in her tracks.
The voice tore through seven months of healing like a rusted blade. Slowly, Evelyn turned around.
Adrian Vale stood at the mouth of the alleyway. He was unrecognizable. The polished, impeccably groomed billionaire of New York had withered away. His dark coat hung loose on his frame; his face was gaunt, hollowed out by months of sleepless guilt, with gray streaks dusting his dark hair. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles.
Behind him stood Marcus, keeping a respectful distance.
Adrian took a hesitant step forward, his eyes dropping immediately to the pronounced curve of her belly. A choked, strangled sound escaped his throat. He looked as though someone had struck him across the chest with a sledgehammer.
“You’re... you're having a baby,” Adrian whispered, tears instantly filling his eyes. “My God, Evelyn. It was true.”
Thomas stepped forward immediately, positioning his broad frame squarely in front of Evelyn. “Step back, mister. I don't care who you are, you're trespassing, and you're alarming my patient.”
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Adrian barely glanced at the doctor. His entire world was narrowed down to the woman standing behind him—the woman whose dignity he had crushed beneath the weight of his own arrogance.
“Evelyn, please,” Adrian choked out, falling to his knees right there on the wet gravel. “Please, just listen to me for five minutes. That’s all I ask. Five minutes.”
