Chapter 2 - The Ghost In The Rain
Packing took less than seven minutes.
I didn't care about the designer gowns, the diamond necklaces Roman had bought to assuage his guilt, or the furs hanging in the cedar closet. I took two changes of warm clothes for myself, every newborn onesie I could stuff into a plain canvas duffel, four cans of gentle formula, and Sophie’s medical records.
Most importantly, I slipped a slim black flash drive into the inner lining of my boot. It contained the complete ledger of Roman's clean-side shell corporations—the very ones he thought he was shifting to keep out of federal scrutiny.
Sophie let out a small, sleepy whimper as I lifted her from the crib and tucked her into a fleece-lined baby carrier secured tightly against my chest. I zipped my heavy wool coat over both of us, leaving just enough room for her tiny face to breathe against my collarbone.
""Shh, baby girl,"" I murmured, feeling her tiny heartbeat fluttering against my ribs. ""Mama’s got you.""
The mansion was suffocatingly quiet. At 10:14 PM, I stood by the rear pantry door that opened into the winter garden. Through the rain-streaked glass, I watched the twin beams of the perimeter guard patrol car sweep toward the north gate. The guards were two young recruits Roman had hired from Chicago—eager to impress, but predictable. At 10:15, they stopped by the guardhouse to brew fresh coffee before the night shift took over.
I had exactly three minutes of blindness on the rear perimeter sensors.
I tapped the keypad, entering the override code Roman had updated only two weeks ago while sitting in my hospital room, assuming I had been too groggy from anesthesia to see his fingers moving. The green LED blinked once, silently disarming the greenhouse exterior beam.
I pushed open the door and stepped out into the biting November chill.
The cold hit me like a slap, but I kept my body hunched forward, shielding Sophie completely from the driving sleet. The gravel path was slick under my boots. My abdominal stitches pulled fiercely with every hurried step, sending sharp ribbons of pain up my spine, but adrenaline flooded my veins, dulling the agony.
Past the dormant rosebushes, an old iron hatch lay nearly concealed beneath rotting autumn leaves—the forgotten entrance to the utility drainage pipes that ran beneath the estate toward the municipal canal. Vincent had told me about it years ago, back when he had tried to warn me about what marrying Roman would truly mean.
I pulled the iron ring. The hatch groaned softly against the earth, but the driving rain masked the sound. I lowered myself down the concrete steps into the darkness, pulling the cover shut until the latch engaged with a dull, subterranean thud.
The air below was damp and smelled of wet stone and old iron. I clicked on a small penlight, holding it low. Sophie shifted, nuzzling into my neck, her warm breath a fragile anchor in the cold subterranean tunnel.
""We're going, Sophie,"" I whispered into the dark. ""We're almost free.""
I walked through the concrete conduit for fifteen grueling minutes. Every step was an exercise in pure will. Blood warmed my inner thigh where a suture had likely torn, but I did not slow down. If Roman returned early, if Laya grew bored and let him leave before his midnight curfew, his men would scour every inch of the grounds within twenty minutes.
At the end of the tunnel, a rusted ladder led up to a storm drain behind an abandoned grain elevator near the industrial docks. I climbed slowly, one rung at a time, holding Sophie securely with one arm while hauling myself upward with the other.
When I pushed the street grate aside, the salty, freezing gale of Lake Michigan hit me with brutal force.
Waiting in the shadows of the rusted grain silos was a battered dark sedan, its engine idling without headlights. The passenger door swung open immediately.
A man stepped out, his tall frame cloaked in a heavy canvas duster, a cap pulled low over sharp features that bore an eerie, weathered resemblance to Roman’s.
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""Get in,"" Vincent said, reaching out to steady me as my knees buckled on the wet pavement. ""The harbor master clears the tug in eight minutes. We don't have time to bleed.""
I tumbled into the heated cabin of the car, clutching Sophie tightly as Vincent slammed the door, hit the gas, and vanished into the swirling, rain-swept darkness of the industrial waterfront.
