Chapter 7: The Highway North
The fog rolled off Lake Michigan in thick, blinding blankets as my old Buick sedan hummed along the deserted two-lane highway just before dawn. In the back seat, Lily was fast asleep against Claire’s shoulder, her small chest rising and falling in rhythmic peace, completely unaware that her entire world had been packed into cardboard boxes and the trunk of a car. I kept my eyes fixed on the illuminated dashboard and the faint amber glow of the center line, watching our rearview mirrors every few miles for any sign of headlights tracking our tail. Richard was arrogant, but he was also meticulously organized; if he discovered we had abandoned the suburban house before sunrise, he would trigger every corporate and legal asset at his disposal to intercept us at the county line. We crossed the old iron bridge over the Black River just as the sky began to bruise into a pale, bruised violet, the chill of early autumn seeping through the rubber seals of the car doors. Claire stared out the passenger window, watching the endless stretch of pine trees and roadside diners blur past into the gray morning mist. “Do you think he’ll go after the house?” she asked quietly, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her coat sleeve. “Let him,” I replied, gripping the steering wheel with hands that felt steady despite the exhaustion pulling at my eyelids. “Bricks and mortar can be replaced, Claire. People cannot. Sarah is expecting us by seven o’clock, and she’s already arranged for a local sheriff’s deputy to keep an unmarked cruiser parked at the end of her gravel road.” Claire let out a long, shaky breath, leaning her head back against the headrest as the heater clicked on, filling the car with a dry, metallic warmth. For the first time in years, she wasn't jumping at every shadow or checking her phone for incoming text messages filled with passive-aggressive demands. We were heading north into the wind, away from the glittering galas, the tailored suits, and the suffocating control of a man who believed his money made him God. But as the miles ticked away on the odometer, I knew deep in my bones that this was only the first skirmish in a war that would ultimately be fought out in the full glare of public exposure.
