Chapter 94

Lila’s POV

The day bled into evening in slow, uneven drops. I had already freshened up and just lay on my bed waiting for the doctors to come for their routine check up.

The doctors came eventually, a cluster of them in white coats, their voices soft and clinical as they examined me. The cold press of a stethoscope against my chest and the pinch of a blood pressure cuff was one feeling that I still wasn't used to. I couldn't believe that this was my life now, and as I sat still while answering their questions in a voice that didn’t sound like my own I just kept wishing that everything would be over soon.

When they finally stepped back, the lead doctor gave me a smile that did not quite reach his tired eyes.

“You are recovering well,” he said. “The chemical traces have left your system, and your vitals are stable. We will still want you to rest, eat properly and avoid stress as much as possible.”

I almost laughed at that, bitterly. Avoid stress? How could I, when my entire life had become one long, excruciating and suffocating storm?

“But you are cleared to be discharged this evening if you are ready.”

A flicker of relief went through me, but before I could respond, he added something that made my stomach drop.

“Mr. Drew Sinclair who brought you in was discharged earlier today. We advised him to stay longer for observation, but he insisted on leaving. But before he left, he settled all of your bills and paid for your drugs too. So whenever you are ready, you may go.”

My lips parted, but no sound came. He left.

Of course he did.

And yet, he had paid for me. That was very typical of Drew, in a single stroke he was pushing me away with words sharp enough to draw blood, but at the same time protecting me in silence where I could not see it.

I managed a stiff nod. “Thank you, doctor.”

Hours later, as dusk folded into night, I walked out of the hospital. The glass doors slid shut behind me with a whisper, and the city air rushed in, cold and biting. My body shivered, though it wasn’t just from the chill. It was from the hollow ache inside me, the space where Drew’s absence had carved wide open.

I stopped a cab and gave it directions back to my apartment. I could not go back to Drew's apartment now and I had already packed my things together so I could just hope he would be gracious to send them to my apartment.

I stared out the window the whole way, watching the blur of neon signs and the smear of headlights across damp asphalt. The world kept moving as though mine had not stopped.

But the closer we got to my street, the tighter my chest became.

Every shadow seemed to stretch too long, every figure on the sidewalk seemed to linger. My pulse quickened when a black car slowed beside us, only for it to speed off at the next light. My nails dug crescents into my palms.

Max was the reason why I felt so tensed. I had no idea what his next move would be and he could just be lurking around waiting to attack me. I quickly made a mental note to get some self defense tools.

By the time the cab pulled up at my apartment, my hands shook as I dug for cash. I forced myself out of the car, clutching my bag to my chest. My eyes darted everywhere, over the parked vehicles and even the buildings nearby. I could see the glow of a cigarette in the dark and I heard the rustle of footsteps fading into the distance.

My senses were heightened and I just wanted to be inside as quickly as possible.

I fumbled with my keys at the entrance, dropping them once before shoving them into the lock with shaking hands. When the door finally opened, I slammed it behind me, pressing my back to the wood, my chest heaving.

I felt a little bit safe, at least for now.

The apartment smelled faintly of lavender from the candle I had left unlit days ago. It should have comforted me, but instead, the space felt foreign and hollow. The shadows clung to corners, and I couldn’t shake the sense of being watched.

I dropped onto the couch, my bag slipping to the floor. My face buried into my palms as my body trembled. How did my life twisted into this? Just months ago, my world had been simple, handling events, schedules and Drew’s impossible demands. Now, every corner held danger. Every truth cut so deep like a blade.

I thought of Drew again. The way his voice had gone flat when he told me he did not want me around him. The way he had compared me to Kimberley, the one woman who had destroyed him.

The memory made me flinch. I had been compared to a ghost I hated, and the worst part was that I could not even argue against it.

A sob slipped out before I could stop it. My hands wrapped around myself, trying to hold my body together as it threatened to shatter.

But then my palm brushed my stomach.

The swell there was still faint, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to me, it was everything. The tiniest heartbeat that spoke hope to me.

My breathing slowed, steadied.

I couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now. Not with Max circling like a predator and Drew drowning in his own fury. I had to think, to act, to protect more than just myself.

I rose slowly, walking into the bedroom. The sight of the neatly made bed, the books on the shelf and the framed photos all felt alien now. This wasn’t home anymore. Not when every creak in the hallway made me flinch, wondering if Max was on the other side of the door.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the suitcase tucked under it.

Then I heard the world Go home.

The words whispered through me, soft at first, then louder. Go home.

Home was with my parents, it was the one place that had always felt safe and the only place I could turn to now for solace.

Maybe it was cowardice, maybe it was running. But right now, I did not care. I needed air. I needed distance. I needed to protect the child I carried, even if it meant leaving everything else behind.

I tugged the suitcase free, the wheels scraping against the floor. The zipper’s click filled the silence, sharp and final.

I packed slowly and methodically. A few clothes. Documents. My prenatal vitamins. My heart raced with every item, as though Max himself might burst in and rip the suitcase away.

At one point, I froze at the window, convinced I saw someone standing across the street. My breath caught, my hand tightening around the curtain. But when I looked again, it was only shadows shifting under a flickering streetlamp.

Still, the fear stayed. The sense of being hunted.

By the time I finished packing, exhaustion pulled at me, but determination anchored me too.

I stood at the window, staring out at the city skyline. The lights shimmered, the streets pulsed with life, but none of it felt like it belonged to me anymore.

I pressed my palm to my stomach, closing my eyes.

“I will keep you safe,” I whispered. “No matter what it takes. I will be strong for us.”

But even as I said it, the doubt I felt within mocked at me. Was running strength, or was it weakness? Was I protecting us, or was I just playing into Max’s hands?

I didn’t know.

All I knew was that staying here meant drowning.

So I gripped the handle of the suitcase tighter and swore to myself that tomorrow, I would leave this city behind.

For me.

For the baby.

And for the chance at survival.