Chapter 7
I made it three miles.
Three miles down the dark country road.
My bag was heavy.
My feet hurt.
But I kept going.
One foot in front of the other.
Just like Mom had taught me.
Then the headlights came on behind me.
Bright.
Blinding.
A car pulled up beside me.
The window rolled down.
I expected William.
Or Voss’s men.
Or the police.
It was Julian.
“Get in,” he said.
I stepped back.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s freezing. And the next town is ten miles. You’ll freeze before you get there.”
“I’m not going back,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. “Then I’ll drive you somewhere else. But you’re not walking. Get in.”
I hesitated.
Julian was William’s son.
He had made it clear he didn’t want me around.
But he was also the only person who had ever talked to me like I was real.
Like I wasn’t just a problem or a paycheck.
I got in.
The car was warm.
He turned up the heat.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Anywhere but here,” I said.
He nodded.
He pulled onto the highway.
Toward the city.
We drove in silence for a while.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Believe it or not, I’m not actually a monster. My parents? Yeah. They’re monsters. But me? I just… I get it.”
“Get what?”
“Being a disappointment,” he said. “My dad has wanted me to be him since I was five. Captain of the football team. Valedictorian. Harvard. Wharton. CEO of Whitmore Industries by thirty. And I just… I don’t want it. I want to make movies. I want to live in LA. I want to do something that matters. But no one cares. To them, I’m just the heir. The next in line. Until you showed up.”
He glanced at me.
“And then suddenly I wasn’t the only one. Suddenly there was someone else who had no choice in any of this. Someone else who was just born into this mess.”
We were quiet again.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“My apartment,” he said. “In the city. My dad bought it for me when I turned sixteen. Says it’s ‘good for the image’ to have a place in Manhattan. I barely use it. You can stay there. As long as you want.”
“Why?” I asked again.
“Because,” he said, “for the first time in my life, I can do something that my dad would hate. And honestly? That’s the best feeling in the world.”
He smiled.
It was the first real smile I had ever seen from him.
We reached the city an hour later.
His apartment was in Tribeca.
Huge.
Floor to ceiling windows.
Modern art on the walls.
“Make yourself at home,” he said. “There’s food in the fridge. Extra bedrooms. Whatever you need. I’ll crash on the couch.”
I sat on the sofa.
I still couldn’t believe it.
“Julian,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Seriously. If my dad finds out, he’ll disown me. Which would actually be great, so maybe you should tell him.”
He laughed.
But it died in his throat.
Because his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face went white.
“It’s my mom,” he said.
He answered.
“Hey, Mom.”
Silence.
Then his face changed.
“What?” he whispered. “When?”
Silence.
“Oh my God.”
He dropped the phone.
“Julian?” I said. “What’s wrong?”
He looked at me.
His eyes were wide.
Terrified.
“It’s your mom,” he said. “Someone broke into the house tonight. An hour after you left. They went to her room. They… Luna, she’s in the hospital. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
The room started spinning.
“No,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
I stood up.
“I have to go back.”
“Luna, wait—”
“Now!”
We ran for the car.
Julian drove faster than he should have.
Red lights.
Stop signs.
Nothing mattered.
Nothing but getting to the hospital.
When we burst through the doors of the ER, Evelyn was there.
She was sitting on a plastic chair.
Her hair was down.
Her gown was wrinkled.
She looked like she had aged ten years in three hours.
She looked up when she saw me.
She didn’t yell.
She didn’t ask where I had been.
She just stood up and held me.
And I knew.
I knew before she said it.
“Luna,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. Your mom… she’s gone.”
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t cry.
I just stood there.
In her arms.
And I felt my heart break into a million pieces.
Because it was my fault.
All of it.
If I hadn’t run away.
If I had just stayed.
If I hadn’t been born.
Mom would still be alive.
The police came later.
Detectives.
They told us what happened.
Two men.
Ski masks.
They disabled the alarms.
They knew exactly where the security blind spots were.
They went straight to Mom’s room.
No robbery.
Nothing taken.
Just… her.
“Professional hit,” the lead detective said. “They were in and out in four minutes. Knew the house. Knew the layout.”
He looked at Evelyn.
“Mrs. Whitmore, I have to ask. Does anyone in your family have access to the security codes? The alarm schedules? The camera blind spots?”
Evelyn didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
We all knew.
Only three people in the world had that level of access.
Evelyn.
May you like
Robert.
And William.
