No Escape

I didn't sleep.

How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kael Blackwell's face. That cold smile. Those gray eyes were looking at me like I was something to be controlled.

At six, I gave up. Thirteen hours left before the driver arrived. Thirteen hours to find a way out.

I powered on my phone. Seventy-three notifications. Most came from acquaintances, amplifying the story of my "betrayal." But one message caught my eye.

Sophie: What's going on, Aria? On the internet, people are saying terrible things. Give me a call, please.

My chest constricted. Sophie was nineteen. I assisted her with her scholarship application, and she is still in college. She didn't have to be pulled into this mess.

I responded by typing, "All is well."

Just some misunderstanding. Focus on your midterms. I love you.

I deleted her number from my phone before I could change my mind. The Blackwells were watching.

I couldn't take the chance of them pursuing her as well.

I then looked at my bank account.

Balance: $0.00

Account Status: Pending investigation, frozen.

They had moved more quickly than I had anticipated. All of the money I had saved was gone.

Locked away where I couldn't touch it.

I tried my credit card. Declined.

Backup card. Declined.

Everything had been frozen.

My wallet contained 10 bucks. That was all.

I needed help. A lawyer, maybe.

I looked for legal aid clinics, someone who could examine the evidence and prove that I had been set up.

Found three within twenty miles. The first one opened at nine.

I took a bus across the city with my last 10 dollars. The legal assistance office was housed in a dilapidated structure with loudly buzzing fluorescent lights. The scent of despair and old coffee filled the waiting area.

The receptionist remained glued to her computer. "Name?" "Aria Laurent." I need to discuss criminal charges with someone.

I was framed and—"

"Fill this out." She handed me a clipboard. "We'll call you when someone's available. Wait time is about three hours."

I sat down and started filling out the forms. Emergency contact. Employment history. Assets.

I had nothing to write. No emergency contact anymore. No job. No assets.

A man sat down next to me. Fifties. Tired eyes. "First time?"

I nodded.

"Word of advice.

Keep your expectations in check. These attorneys are overburdened. underpaid. You're in trouble if you're facing someone who has actual money."

"That's encouraging."

He chuckled. The sound wasn't joyful. "I've been coming here for the last six months coming here. My ex-wife's husband practices business law. I can't afford to battle him because he's buried me with paperwork and motions. People like us are not intended for the system.

We are liked by people. Poor. Powerless. Disposable.

Before a young woman in a rumpled suit called my name, I had to wait for two hours. Her workspace was no larger than a closet.

"My name is Jennifer Park.

Public defender. What can I help you with?"

I explained everything. The false accusations. The evidence I'd never seen before. The Blackwell family. The threat of criminal charges.

She listened. Took notes.

"Miss Laurent, I'm going to be honest with you. If the Blackwell family has actual evidence—even fabricated evidence—and they file charges, you're looking at a real fight," she said, leaning back in her chair.

Discovery alone could take months. A trial could take years.

Additionally, hundreds of thousands of dollars would be spent on legal fees.

"But I'm innocent."

"Innocent people go to prison every day because they can't afford adequate defense." On her computer, she opened something.

"I checked while you were waiting.

There are seventeen attorneys on the Blackwells' legal team. They have never lost a case involving corporate espionage.

My hands began to tremble. "So what do I do?"

"A public defender will be assigned to you at arraignment if you are unable to pay for a private attorney.

But I have to tell you, our office is handling three times the recommended caseload. You'd get maybe an hour of my time before trial."

"An hour?"

"Maybe less. I have forty-two active cases right now." She looked genuinely sorry. "The system is broken. I wish I could tell you something different."

I walked out of that office with less hope than I'd walked in with.

My phone rang. I almost ignored it.

Damien.

I answered before I could stop myself.

"Aria." His voice. The voice I'd loved for two years. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"I'm trying to help you."

"Help me? You threw me away like garbage."

"I had no choice." He sounded defensive. "You betrayed my family."

"I didn't—"

"Stop lying." His voice turned cold. "I know what you did. I saw the evidence myself. You sold our secrets for two million dollars. You looked me in the eye every day and lied."

"That's not true."

"My uncle wants to marry you. Did you know that?"

My stomach dropped. How did he know already?

"He called me this morning. Said he's offering you a way out. A contract marriage." Damien laughed. It was bitter. Mean. "I told him he was insane. That you weren't worth it. But he said you'd be useful.

A reminder of what transpires when individuals cross our family."

"Damien—"This is what will take place. You will vanish.

Leave the city. Change your name. Whatever.

Leave the city. Change your name. Whatever.

I will see to it that those criminal charges are upheld if you remain. I will testify against you. I'll expose your manipulation of me to everyone. How did you gain access to my family's business by using me?"

"I loved you."

"You loved my money." His voice was ice. "And now you have nothing. No money. No reputation. No future. You're exactly where you belong."

He ended the call.

I finally realized as I stood on the sidewalk outside the legal assistance office, watching others hurry by me on their way to meaningful jobs and lives.

There was no way out.

The Blackwells had blocked every exit. No money. No lawyer. No support. No way to fight back.

I could run. Get on a bus and disappear. But Kael would find me. He'd said he had people everywhere. And when they caught me, I'd go straight to prison.

Or I could show up at Blackwell Tower tonight and sign my life away.

My phone buzzed.

Another unknown number.

I answered.

"Miss Laurent." A woman's voice. "This is Patricia Blackwell."

Damien's mother.

The person who had flung alcohol in my face.

"What do you want?"

"I'm calling to offer my congratulations. My brother-in-law is a generous man. By now, the majority of women in your situation would be imprisoned.

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"Of course you didn't." She didn't trust me. Here's some advice. Kael is not a good man. He's not trying to save you. He has his own reasons, whatever they may be. He will annihilate you more severely than we have previously if you cross him.

Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. See you at the wedding. It'll be a small ceremony. We don't want too much publicity. Can't have people thinking the Blackwells associate with criminals." She hung up.

I looked at the time. Four PM.

Three hours until the driver arrived.

Three hours to make a choice that wasn't really a choice at all.

I thought about running. About getting on a bus and disappearing into some small town where the Blackwell name meant nothing. I could change my name. Start over.

However, I would constantly be watching over my shoulder. awaiting the arrival of the police. awaiting capture by Kael's people.

Sophie, too. They would use her to reach me. I was certain they would.

No. There was no way to run.

I returned to the motel. took a shower with barely warm water. Put on the only respectable dress I had in my bag. I tried my best to fix my hair.

I was standing outside the motel with my duffel bag around 6:45 p.m.

A black vehicle arrived. The window rolled down.

"Miss Laurent?" The driver was older. Professional.

He didn't give me a pitying or judgmental glance. simply unlocked the door.

I entered.

The car has a money-and-leather scent. The Blackwells could smell money in everything they touched.

Silently, we drove through the city. previous eateries where Damien and I had dined. Beyond the gallery where I used to work. Beyond the life I had only 48 hours before.

In front of Blackwell Tower, the vehicle came to a stop. 72 stories of steel and glass. The kingdom of Kael.

"Seventy-second floor," the driver replied.

I got out.

The lobby was marble and chrome. Security guards everywhere. People in expensive suits are rushing to elevators. No one looked at me twice.

I rode the elevator up. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls. I looked tired. Scared. Broken.

The doors opened.

A woman in a perfect suit stood waiting. "Miss Laurent. Mr. Blackwell is expecting you. This way."

She guided me through a corridor. Her heels made a clicking sound on the ground. This place was terrifying, wonderful, and frigid.

She unlocked a door.

"Go ahead."

I stepped inside.

The office was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A massive desk. Leather chairs.

And Kael Blackwell was standing by the window with his hands in his pockets, staring at me as if I were a problem that needed to be solved.

"You came," he remarked.

"Did I have a choice?"

"No." He went to his desk and grabbed a folder. "But I appreciate you being realistic about your situation."

He extended the folder.

I took it. Inside was a contract. Pages and pages of legal terms I barely understood.

"Read it if you want. But the summary is simple. You marry me. You live in my home. You follow my rules.

I drop all criminal charges and offer you a divorce after a year. You leave with nothing, but you're free."

"And if I refuse?"

"You're arrested tonight. Trial starts in three months. You'll lose. Then you go to prison."

He perched on his desk. However, you won't decline. since you are intelligent enough to see that this is your only choice.

He was correct.

For that, I detested him. However, he was correct.

"Where do I sign?" I inquired.

His eyes sparked with something.

Satisfaction maybe. Or victory.

He handed me a pen.

I signed my name on the line. Aria Laurent. Soon to be Aria Blackwell.

The door opened. A man walked in. Older. Official-looking.

"Judge Morrison," Kael said. "Thank you for coming."

A judge. He'd brought a judge.

"We're doing this now?" I asked.

"No reason to wait." Kael stood. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

I wanted to scream. To run. To do anything but stand there and let this happen.

But I didn't move.

Judge Morrison cleared his throat. "Let's begin."