Silent Escape: The Runaway Heiress's Refuge

er limp becoming more pronounced with every step. She reached the main road just as

nd. The car slowe

ide. The interior smelled of sta

, eyeing her soaking wet clo

om her pocket and wrote

wed it

ed and hit the me

window. The Wells estate was a dark silhouette against the sky. S

e thin fabric of Eva Wells's dress, chilling her skin, but the cold was nothing compared to the numbness spreading through

were ringing with a high-pitched silence that had become her constant companion. She felt like she was underwater, the pressure building against her eardrums, thre

landed on h

in her throat. She knew that touch. It was heavy, possessive, and entirely devoid of w

" Kingsley We

He didn't look at her. He looked at the grave with a practiced expression of solemnity, the grievi

home," he whisper

culation. She looked past him to the waiting limousine. Corie, his wife, sat in the back seat, her face a mask of po

ing school for the funeral of a distant uncle, but she knew, de

med shut with a finality that made her jump. The lock engag

oosh of the windshield wipers. Eva pressed herself against the door, trying to make herself as small as pos

closed behind them. The house loomed ahead, a sprawlin

said as they entered the foyer. "

e was wading through molasses. She went to her old room at the end of the hall. She reached for the door ha

ds were shaking. She clasped them together, squeezing unt

er the windows, a relentless drumbeat against the glass. Thirs

allowed the sound of her footsteps. She moved like a shadow,

s. She knew this house's secrets better than anyone. At the end of the hall, hidden behind a tapestry, was a small, brass grate-a relic from the old heating syste

her ear against the gra

saying. "Dr. Aris confirmed the tissue compat

ice asked. It sounded like their fa

ussing a car part. "That's all that matters. Juliana doesn't have much time left. We need

harv

in the air, sh

t slammed against her ribs, a frantic bird trying to escape a cage. They weren't bringing he

going

rned and sprinted back to her room, her bare feet silent on the

ay. If she stay

re shaking so badly she could barely work the zipper. She stuffed a change of clothes inside-jea

of cash she had been saving for years, stealing twenty-dollar bills from Kingsley's w

o, her mother was laughing, standing in front of a rustic wooden sign that read 'Mrs. Ro

n the side of the phone. The SIM card tray popped out. She removed the SIM card, snapped the thin plastic in half, and walked to the bathroom, flushing the pieces

in lashed at her face. Below, a wooden trellis covered in

k out first, watching it land in a soft bu

d violently against the rough bark. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but she bit he

sprint; it was a desperate, limping gait, each step sending a jolt of

mapping the blind spots. She wove through the garden, sticking to the

oose stone near the old oak tree. She used it

ed but forced herself upright. The half-mile walk to the main road felt like a marathon. Every