Chapter 7 - The Midnight Escape
I didn't argue. I didn't yell. In moments of extreme danger, a woman's survival instinct takes over with terrifying precision. I nodded slowly, looking down at the floor, pretending to be broken, pretending to accept his monstrous conditions.
""Okay,"" I whispered, wiping a tear from my cheek. ""Just... give me a minute to wash my face. Please, Ryan. My head is pounding.""
Ryan studied my bowed head, satisfied that his display of dominance had successfully cowed me into submission. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. ""Good. That's more like it, Maya. Be smart. We can still have an incredible life together. Go wash up. I’m going to make some coffee, and then we’ll sit down and talk like adults.""
He turned and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
The moment his footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs, I didn't go to the bathroom. I slipped out of my sneakers to silence my steps, snatched the manila envelope containing the trust documents and Arthur Sterling's letters off the desk, shoved them deep inside my oversized canvas tote bag, and crept toward the second-floor guest bedroom.
The guest bedroom had a low window that opened onto the flat roof above the garage.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Climbing through a window while seven months pregnant was reckless, bordering on madness, but the thought of remaining in that house under Ryan's thumb was a million times worse. I opened the window sash inch by inch, wincing at every microscopic squeak of the wooden frame.
I climbed out onto the black shingles, the morning dew soaking through my woolen socks. Carefully, keeping my weight distributed low, I edged toward the trellis that climbed up the side of the garage. Step by agonizing step, testing every wooden rung with my bare toes, I descended into the side yard bushes.
A branch scraped across my forearm, leaving a thin trail of blood, but I felt zero pain. Adrenaline surged through my veins.
I bolted across the grass, slipped through the loose wooden slat in our privacy fence, and sprinted down the back alleyway toward Clara’s car, which I had parked two blocks away behind a local convenience store.
My hands shook so violently I dropped the keys twice onto the floor mat before finally managing to jam the ignition key into the slot. The engine roared to life. I threw the sedan into reverse, slammed on the gas, and tore down the residential street just as Ryan’s truck pulled out of our driveway three blocks behind me, his high beams flashing furiously in the morning mist.
He had heard the engine.
He was chasing me.
Panic threatened to choke me, but I forced my eyes onto the road ahead. Ryan was an aggressive driver, his lifted truck closing the distance quickly along the suburban arterial road. He pulled up right behind my bumper, honking his horn continuously, trying to run me off the narrow two-lane asphalt.
""Pick up, pick up, pick up,"" I sobbed, dialing Clara’s phone on hands-free speaker.
""Maya? Where are you?!"" Clara's frantic voice burst through the car speakers. ""I woke up and you were gone—""
""Ryan is behind me, Clara! He’s chasing me!"" I screamed, checking my rearview mirror as his heavy chrome bumper came within inches of my trunk. ""He knows I took the trust papers! He threatened to take the baby away!""
""Don't come back to my house!"" Clara yelled over the line. ""He'll check my place first! Take Route 4 toward Evelyn’s cottage! She called me twenty minutes ago looking for you! Go to Evelyn, Maya! Now!""
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I slammed my foot on the accelerator, taking a sharp, screeching right turn onto the state highway. The tires shrieked in protest, the car rocking violently. Ryan attempted to make the turn with me, but his high center of gravity forced him to brake hard to avoid rolling the truck, sending his vehicle skidding across the gravel shoulder.
That three-second delay was all I needed. I pushed Clara’s beat-up Honda to eighty miles per hour, watching Ryan's headlights dwindle in the distance as the early morning fog swallowed the highway whole.
