Chapter 4 - The Escape Plan Hidden Inside a Baby BlanketI stared at Luca.
Two embryos.
My embryos.
Still frozen.
Still waiting somewhere inside a clinic I had trusted for years.
I thought about the day Dr. Bellini told me our final treatment cycle had failed.
Harrison had taken me home.
He'd held me while I cried.
He'd told me we would try again.
Two months later, Bellini announced a new protocol and celebrated when I became pregnant with triplets.
I had believed we'd received a miracle.
Now I knew it had been manufactured through fraud.
"How do you know about my embryos?" I asked.
Luca leaned against the closed door.
"I supervised the transfer of several cryogenic storage containers between two facilities. Bellini's office listed them under a private trust."
"What trust?"
"Romano Family Holdings."
I almost laughed.
Harrison had hidden my potential children inside his business empire.
"Did you see the actual records?"
"Enough to identify the storage numbers. I didn't understand what they represented until I found the fourth file."
"Can you get it?"
"I have a copy of an inventory and instructions sent to the clinic. Your attorney will need to verify the originals."
I looked at him.
"Why are you helping me now?"
He rubbed a hand across his jaw.
"My mother raised four children alone. When I was thirteen, my father tried to take my youngest sister because he had more money and better lawyers."
I said nothing.
"He didn't win. But I remember my mother standing outside the courthouse, shaking so badly she couldn't hold her keys."
Luca looked at my stomach.
"I told myself I'd never help a man do that to a mother."
"And then you did."
He accepted the accusation without flinching.
"Yes."
Something about his honesty made me angrier.
He had known enough to question what was happening.
And he'd stayed silent.
His regret couldn't erase that.
"Give the records to my attorney," I said.
He nodded.
"Who is she?"
"I'm not telling you."
"Good."
I stared.
He continued.
"Don't tell me anything you don't have to. Harrison knows how to make people talk."
"What about you?"
"I've already told him too many things."
My throat tightened.
"Luca, if Harrison finds out—"
"I know."
He glanced at the clock.
"The guard returns in four minutes. You need to leave."
I looked around the nursery.
Three carefully furnished rooms.
Three places prepared for my children to begin their lives without me.
"What will he do to the babies?" I whispered.
Luca's expression softened.
"I don't know."
"Will they be safe?"
"I can't promise that."
I closed my eyes.
That was the most frightening answer imaginable.
But it was also the first honest answer anyone inside the Romano organization had given me.
By sunrise, I had developed a plan.
Not an escape in the dramatic sense.
I couldn't climb a fence.
I couldn't run through the woods.
I couldn't disappear into a crowded airport carrying triplets at twenty-six weeks pregnant.
I needed something more careful.
A medical plan.
A legal plan.
And a way to leave the estate without triggering Harrison's suspicions before I had protection.
Dr. Brooks had warned me that triplet pregnancies could change quickly.
If I developed regular contractions, bleeding, fluid leakage, or reduced fetal movement, I needed immediate medical assessment.
I wasn't going to fake an emergency.
The babies were too important.
But I could insist that any genuine complication be evaluated at the independent hospital rather than Bellini's private facility.
I also needed to get my mother involved.
Elaine Bennett had never liked Harrison.
She'd never said it directly.
But she noticed things.
The way his security guards followed me.
The way he answered questions on my behalf.
The way I stopped making plans without checking his schedule.
Once, she asked whether I was happy.
I'd told her I was.
She hadn't argued.
She simply hugged me and said, "You can always come home."
I remembered those words now.
I wanted to hear them again.
At breakfast, Harrison was unusually cheerful.
He sat at the long dining table reading a financial newspaper while a chef prepared eggs.
His sleeve was rolled back, exposing the serpent tattoo.
I watched him from the doorway.
"Morning," he said.
"Morning."
"Sleep well?"
"Not really."
He folded the newspaper.
"I heard you went walking last night."
My heart stopped.
Luca hadn't told him.
Had he?
I forced myself to pour water.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Where did you go?"
"Downstairs."
"Anywhere else?"
I looked at him.
"Why?"
His smile disappeared.
"Chloe, I'm asking a simple question."
I placed the glass down.
"And I'm answering."
For a moment, the room felt dangerously still.
Then Harrison leaned back.
"You're becoming unusually defensive."
I remembered the psychiatric document.
I almost smiled.
He was building his case in real time.
Every question.
Every reaction.
Every ordinary disagreement.
All of it could later become evidence of instability if someone recorded only his version.
I softened my voice.
"I'm sorry. I'm uncomfortable, and I hardly slept."
His expression immediately changed.
"There she is."
He reached for my hand.
"You're under stress, baby. That's why I want you to meet Dr. Shaw."
I looked down.
"Maybe after the next ultrasound."
"Of course."
His thumb stroked my knuckles.
Then he said something that made my blood freeze.
"I also think you should stop visiting hospitals without telling me."
I lifted my eyes.
"Why?"
"Because it worries me."
"Dr. Brooks is qualified."
"I'm sure she is."
"Then what's the problem?"
His smile thinned.
"She's not part of the team responsible for protecting our pregnancy."
Our pregnancy.
He said it as though we shared the medical burden equally.
As though he was the one who woke up vomiting.
As though he was the one whose ribs ached.
As though he had ever spent a night wondering whether three tiny hearts would still be beating in the morning.
I swallowed my anger.
"Okay."
Harrison kissed my hand.
"Good girl."
Those two words made me feel like a pet.
Later that morning, I asked Rosa to help organize the nursery blankets.
She brought down a large wicker basket containing three soft quilts I'd made during the first trimester.
One yellow.
One green.
One pale blue.
I had sewn their initials into the corners.
Not names yet.
Just A, B, and C.
Harrison had told me not to become too attached to particular names.
He said we'd decide after delivery.
I finally understood why.
"Rosa," I said quietly, "do you remember my mother's telephone number?"
She glanced at me.
"Of course."
"Could you call her?"
"Now?"
"Please."
Rosa looked toward the hall.
Then she nodded.
She took her own phone from her apron and dialed.
When my mother answered, Rosa handed it to me.
"Mom?"
"Chloe?"
Her voice sounded so familiar that my eyes filled.
"Hi."
"Sweetheart, are you all right?"
I closed my eyes.
"No."
There was silence.
Then my mother asked, "Is it the babies?"
"They're okay."
"Then what is it?"
I looked at Rosa.
She stepped into the hallway to give me privacy.
"Mom, I need you to listen carefully."
"I'm listening."
"I can't explain everything right now. But something is wrong with my marriage."
Her breathing changed.
"Did Harrison hurt you?"
"Not physically."
"Are you safe?"
"I don't know."
My mother didn't waste time asking questions I couldn't answer.
"Tell me what you need."
Tears rolled down my face.
"I need you to speak to Tessa Morgan."
"Your friend from college?"
"Yes. She's helping me."
"All right."
"And Mom?"
"Yes, honey?"
"Please don't call Harrison."
Her answer came immediately.
"I won't."
I swallowed.
"I may need somewhere to stay."
For a moment, all I could hear was her breathing.
Then she said:
"Chloe, the bedroom you grew up in is still yours. You don't need to ask permission to come home."
I began crying.
"I'm pregnant with three babies."
"I know."
"It may be complicated."
"Then we'll handle complicated."
"What if Harrison comes looking?"
My mother's voice hardened.
"Then he can explain himself to the authorities."
I almost laughed through my tears.
My mother was five feet three inches tall.
She wore reading glasses on a chain.
She grew tomatoes in recycled buckets.
And somehow, at that moment, she sounded braver than every armed man in Harrison's house.
That afternoon, I met Tessa and Rebecca through a confidential phone consultation arranged by the hospital.
I told them about Luca.
The fourth file.
The three suites.
And the storage records.
Rebecca listened carefully.
"His cooperation could be significant, but we need independently verifiable evidence."
"He says he can provide it."
"Then have him contact me through a secure, lawful channel. Don't take documents from locked offices or access accounts that aren't yours."
I nodded.
Tessa leaned closer to the screen.
"Chloe, there's another problem."
"What?"
"Dr. Shaw."
My stomach tightened.
"Did you find something?"
"He's a psychiatrist who has done consulting work for organizations affiliated with the Romano family. That doesn't prove misconduct, but it creates obvious concerns."
Rebecca continued.
"We're documenting your medical decision-making through independent professionals. You have the right to decline an elective consultation you didn't request."
I looked down.
"What if Harrison says I'm unstable?"
"Then allegations need evidence," Rebecca said. "And the appropriate professionals and courts can evaluate them. Your husband's assertion isn't a diagnosis."
Tessa squeezed her lips together.
"More importantly, we're preparing for the possibility that he might try to interfere with your hospital care or the babies' placement."
I felt sick.
"Can he?"
"We need to be ready for attempts," Rebecca replied. "We can ask the court for appropriate temporary orders, but we can't guarantee what a judge will do before the evidence is reviewed."
I appreciated that she didn't promise miracles.
She promised work.
And for the first time, work sounded like hope.
Three days later, something happened that destroyed the last illusion of safety inside the mansion.
I was walking past Harrison's study when I heard Harper Vale's voice.
Not through the telephone.
Inside the room.
I stopped.
"I don't understand why you're making this so complicated," she said.
Harrison answered sharply.
"Because Chloe is becoming curious."
Harper laughed.
"She's pregnant with three babies. What is she going to do, run?"
My hand tightened around the stair railing.
The same cruel assumption.
The same confidence that my body had made me powerless.
Harper continued.
"After everything I've put into this arrangement, I'm not losing my child."
Harrison said nothing.
"I signed the agreement," Harper insisted.
"I know."
"Your lawyer told me the carrier consented."
My breath caught.
Carrier.
Consent.
Was Harper aware that I had been deceived?
Or had Harrison lied to her too?
Harper's voice hardened.
"If you falsified anything, Harrison, that's your problem."
"Careful."
"No. You promised me this would be legitimate."
There was a long pause.
Then Harrison spoke in a voice I had never heard him use with me.
"If you want this child, you'll follow my instructions."
I pressed a hand against my stomach.
Harper went silent.
Then she whispered:
"You're threatening me?"
"I'm reminding you who made this possible."
I stepped away before they could discover me.
My thoughts raced.
Harper had signed an agreement.
But perhaps she hadn't known the truth.
That mattered.
I wasn't ready to forgive her.
I wasn't even sure she deserved forgiveness.
But if Harrison had deceived her too, then this conspiracy was more complicated than three women waiting to take my children.
Perhaps he had told each woman a different story.
Perhaps everyone believed they were receiving something he had a right to give.
And perhaps the only person who knew the entire truth was Harrison himself.
That evening, I opened the bottom drawer of my nursery dresser.
Inside, beneath folded baby blankets, I had hidden my passport, birth certificate, marriage certificate, medication list, and a small amount of cash.
Tessa had advised me to prepare essential documents without creating a confrontation.
Rosa had helped me copy the medical paperwork I was entitled to access.
My mother had contacted Rebecca.
The pieces were slowly coming together.
But I still wasn't ready to leave.
I needed a place where the babies could receive specialist care if something happened.
I needed legal protection.
And I needed Harrison to remain unaware long enough for those arrangements to matter.
I placed my documents inside a soft blue diaper bag.
Then I wrapped the bag in one of the quilts.
Baby C kicked.
I smiled despite myself.
"You're impatient, aren't you?"
Another movement.
Then a flutter from Baby B.
I rested both hands against my stomach.
"I know."
My voice broke.
"I'm trying."
For a few minutes, I sat on the floor surrounded by tiny blankets and whispered promises to three children who had never seen my face.
"I don't know how this will end," I told them.
"But I promise I won't stop fighting for you."
A shadow moved across the doorway.
I looked up.
Harrison was standing there.
He stared at the open drawer.
Then at the diaper bag.
Then at me.
"What are you doing, Chloe?"
My heart stopped.
I forced a smile.
"Packing a hospital bag."
He stepped closer.
"Already?"
"With triplets, I thought it was smart to be prepared."
He looked at the quilt in my hands.
Then smiled.
"You're right."
He bent down and kissed my forehead.
For one moment, I believed I'd survived another close call.
Then he reached into the drawer.
His fingers closed around my passport.
He held it up.
"Tell me something, sweetheart."
His voice was soft.
Almost amused.
"Why would you need this in a hospital bag?"
I couldn't answer.
Harrison slowly straightened.
The warmth disappeared from his face.
May you like
And then he said:
"Are you planning to leave me?"
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