Chapter 4: The Midnight Evacuation
“He is my son, not your property,” I said, stepping deliberately into Marcus’s path to block the corridor leading to the bedrooms. My voice held a sharp edge, though my pulse raced at a dangerous tempo.
Marcus stopped, his gaze narrowing as he looked down at me with thinly veiled contempt. “Your son? The legal documents signed in Judge Holloway’s chambers four years ago stated otherwise. You surrendered all parental rights in exchange for your silence and a monthly stipend. Thomas belongs to the Foundation’s special education division. His welfare is our legal responsibility.”
“You locked him in a cage,” I spat back, the fury finally breaking through my restraint. “I saw the bruises. I saw the hospital bracelet. If you take one step toward my children, I will broadcast every financial record and medical file I copied before I walked out of that estate.”
Marcus’s smile vanished, replaced by a dark, calculating glint in his eyes. He took a slow step closer, lowering his voice so the guards behind him wouldn't hear every word. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, Elena. You think you can hide him? The city is locked down. Our cameras are on every corner. If you walk out of this apartment with him, you won't last twenty-four hours before we find you both.”
Before Marcus could push past me, a sharp crash echoed from the kitchen—Emily had intentionally knocked a ceramic mug off the counter to create a diversion.
Marcus’s head snapped toward the noise, and his guards instantly moved past me down the hall. “Check the rooms!” Marcus barked.
It was the only opening I would get. I spun around, sprinting down the hallway, bursting into my bedroom, and wrenching open the closet doors. “Thomas, grab my hand! We’re going now!”
Thomas stumbled out of the shadows, clutching his oversized red hoodie around his thin frame. Emily appeared at the bedroom door, her eyes wide. Without a second thought, I grabbed my canvas utility bag, shoved a handful of cash, my car keys, and a passport folder inside, and led the children toward the rear fire escape window.
The heavy metal latch groaned as I forced it open, letting the cold, pelting rain sweep directly into the bedroom. Below us lay the dark, narrow alleyway behind the apartment complex, slick with oil and rain.
“Mom, I’m scared,” Thomas whispered, shivering violently as the wind whipped through his hair.
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“Look at me, Thomas,” I said, crouching down to meet his pale blue eyes. “You are never going back there. Do you hear me? Never.”
I boosted Emily through the window first, catching her as she landed on the metal landing of the fire escape, then hoisted Thomas out behind her. As the muffled sound of shouting echoed from the front living room—Marcus realizing the bedrooms were empty—I scrambled out onto the iron grating, pulling the window shut behind us. We descended the rusted steps into the freezing downpour just as a flashlight beam swept across the brick wall above our heads.
