The AA Marriage Shattered Bonds and Liberated Souls

"Eloise. Open the door."

The voice scraped against her spine like rusted metal.

Eloise Ferguson's eyes snapped open. Her lungs violently expanded, sucking in the air, thick with the cloying scent of lavender mixed with harsh chemical cleaners, inside the Ritz-Carlton restroom. Her hands flew to her throat. There was no blood. There was no crushing weight of a collapsed trachea. Her fingers dug into the flawless, expensive silk of her evening gown. No IV tubes. No hospital restraints.

She stared at her hands. They were trembling, but they were young. The skin was smooth, unmarred by the defensive wounds that had defined her final days. She was twenty-two again. The charity gala.

"Eloise, darling. Don't be difficult."

Bradyn Chandler's voice bled through the heavy wooden door of the restroom. The sound of it made her stomach violently contract. Acid clawed up her throat. Her body remembered the trauma even if the timeline had reset. She pressed her thumb hard into the collarbone hidden beneath her dress, right where the bullet scar lay, using the physical pressure to ground her spiraling mind.

Heavy footsteps stopped right outside the main restroom door. Bradyn pushed. The door rattled but didn't open. A cleaning cart had been wedged against it from the inside.

Eloise clamped both hands over her mouth. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she thought it might crack her sternum. She needed an exit. Now.

She tilted her head back. Above the toilet, a square ventilation grate sat flush against the ceiling. Next to the sinks, a tall, wooden stool had been left behind by the cleaning staff.

"I'm losing my patience, Eloise," Bradyn warned. The handle rattled violently. He was adjusting his cuffs-she could hear the familiar clink of his platinum cufflinks. It was his tell. He was losing control.

Eloise kicked off her five-thousand-dollar stilettos. The cold tile shocked her bare feet. She dragged the stool into the stall, the wooden legs scraping against the floor. Every sound felt like a gunshot. She climbed onto the stool, her bare feet gripping the edges. She reached up, her fingers hooking into the slats of the metal grate.

In the psychiatric facility of her past life, she had learned how to dislocate and leverage her own joints to escape restraints. She applied that same brutal force now. She twisted her wrists, ignoring the sharp, tearing pain in her tendons, and yanked.

The grate popped loose with a harsh metallic snap.

At that exact second, the main restroom door burst open. The cleaning cart crashed against the marble sinks. Bradyn's heavy footsteps stormed onto the tile.

"You think you can embarrass me?" Bradyn snarled.

He started kicking the stall doors open. Bang. Bang.

Eloise shoved the grate aside, grabbed the dusty edge of the duct, and pulled her entire body weight upward. Her silk dress caught on a jagged screw, ripping a massive gash up her thigh. She didn't care. She threw her upper body into the dark, narrow shaft just as Bradyn kicked open the door to her stall.

She held her breath, freezing in the darkness.

Below her, Bradyn stared at the empty stall. He let out a vicious string of curses and kicked the porcelain toilet bowl so hard the water sloshed over the rim. He turned and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him.

Eloise exhaled a shaky breath. The air in the duct was thick with decades of dust. It coated her throat, triggering an intense biological urge to cough. She bit down on the back of her hand, her teeth breaking the skin, forcing the cough back down into her chest.

She began to crawl. The metal dug into her bare knees. The shredded silk of her dress offered no protection. Her eyes were fixed on the faint sliver of light ahead. She knew the layout of this hotel. If she crawled toward the rear, she would end up above the VIP smoking lounge hallway. It was the only way to bypass the main ballroom where her family's spies were waiting.

She reached the vent overlooking the back hallway. Peering through the slats, she saw thick Persian carpets and dim, amber lighting. Empty.