Chapter 3: Pretend to Care

VERA

The vehicle slowed, and my stomach twisted as I looked out the window. A tall skyscraper loomed ahead, its glass facade reflecting the city lights. The sight of it made my heart race even faster as the car came to a halt.

The men sitting on either side of me exited first. One of them held the door open, his silent message clear: get out.

Swallowing hard, I held my baby tighter and carefully stepped out. My legs trembled beneath me, exhaustion making it difficult to stand. But I forced myself to move forward, following the man's subtle gesture toward the building's entrance.

Ahead of me, Logan walked briskly, his posture rigid, his attention focused anywhere but on me, on our baby. He didn’t glance back, didn’t slow his steps, and couldn’t even pretend to care that we were here.

By the time I reached the entrance, he had already disappeared inside. I swallowed again, attempting to suppress the resentment bubbling in my throat, and walked into the building. The lobby was beautiful and modern, with dark marble floors that gleamed under the lights. The men led me to a glass elevator, and as we entered, one of them pressed a number I couldn't see.

The elevator ascended smoothly, the only sound being the soft hum of the machinery, and I stared through the glass, watching the city shrink beneath me, feeling more trapped with each passing second. Soon enough, the familiar ding signaled our arrival.

The doors slid open, and the men motioned for me to move. I did, stepping forward cautiously, my heart still racing as I took everything in. A set of large double doors stood ahead, and one of the men knocked as we stood before them. Within seconds, another man, this one dressed in a red tux, opened the door, and unlike the others, he smiled, his demeanor far more welcoming.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside, and I entered, my gaze darting around the room. The penthouse, with black leather furniture and steel accents, looked dark and masculine. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking city view, but the room felt cold, as if no warmth had ever touched it. It felt exactly like a place Logan would call home.

The man in the tuxedo quickly led me down a hallway and stopped at a door. He pushed it open and motioned inside. "This will be your room," he said, and I entered cautiously, my tired eyes scanning the room.

The bedroom was spacious and decorated in the same dark tones as the rest of the penthouse. A massive bed, dressed in black sheets, sat against one wall, and a sitting area with a leather couch and a fireplace occupied the corner.

“Do you need anything?” the man asked, and I needed a lot. First and foremost, I needed food to maintain my strength for what I planned to do. But I couldn’t eat here. I had no idea how much the man knew or how involved he was in the whole thing. But I had to pretend to avoid blowing my cover anyway, so I requested the food.

"Plus some diapers for the baby." The man nodded. “I’ll arrange that right away.” With that, he exited the room and closed the door. My body began to shake with anxiety as the lock clicked, and I looked down at my baby, who had finally fallen asleep.

Carefully, I placed him on the bed and straightened up, knowing there was no time to relax. But my body ached, and my head spun. So I sat down and told myself it would only be for a moment. Reaching over, I grabbed the clear bag with my medication and took out my pain meds while my stomach growled; I was really hungry. But I didn’t know where Logan would put the drug. It was better to take a chance with the medication, so I popped the lid and took some, despite my reservations about my empty stomach.

Sighing, I set the bottle down, but just as it touched the surface, an idea struck me. What if I could use the pills against Logan? An overdose wouldn’t kill him, but it could put him into a deep sleep. Do what he planned to do with me? It would buy me time to flee.

With my heart pounding, I quickly reread the label. Drowsiness was a side effect; a high enough dose could put someone out for hours. However, the bigger issue was getting it into his system. How would I get it in his food?

Exhaling sharply, my mind raced for possibilities, and I was still thinking about it when a knock sounded at the door. I quickly pushed the bottle onto the nightstand just as the man from earlier arrived, carrying a tray and a bag. He walked to the small lounge area and placed the tray on the table.

"This is the food you requested," he said. Then he approached me and held out the bag. “This is from Mr. Grey.” I hesitated before accepting it, and inside were toiletries and a pair of pajamas. A small, strange feeling twisted in my stomach. Logan hadn’t even looked at me or our son, yet had taken the time to get me these? It didn’t make sense unless it was all part of his plan to make me unsuspecting.

“Thank you,” I murmured, and the man nodded. “It’s a pleasure.” He then motioned to the phone mounted on the wall. “If you need anything, just call.” With that, he left, and I sat still for a moment, listening to the silence, my mind racing over my plan before finally getting up and heading over to the table.

I sat slowly and stared at it, my mind preoccupied with what I would do with the food. The toilet, a voice came from inside; I would flush it down the toilet. Grabbing a fork, I moved it around the plate, not even knowing the point, because if there were cameras, they would see I wasn’t bringing it to my lips. Just then, another knock came at the door. I set down my fork and walked over, and when I opened it, the same man from earlier stood there, holding a bag.

"The diapers you requested," he said, handing it to me, which I accepted with a small smile. “Thank you.” He returned a brief nod before turning and leaving again.

As the door closed, I stared at the bag in my hands, my chest tightening as I realized Logan had not even pretended to buy anything for Noa. Again reminding me that he didn’t intend for him to be here for long. Because in Logan’s mind, Noa wouldn’t be here long. The thought caused my stomach to twist with renewed urgency. I needed to act fast.

With that, I grabbed the food and went to the bathroom, where I dumped everything down the toilet. Thankfully, the painkillers had given me some energy.

Noa was still sleeping peacefully, so I gently placed my hand over his blanket to ensure he was warm enough before heading to the bathroom. The shower was quick, but it worked wonders for me.

After drying off, I crushed the medication I intended to use and grabbed the pajama top, placing it in one of the pockets. The I dressed in the pajamas Logan had sent and checked on Noa one last time before grabbing the tray and heading out of the room.

I needed to explore the rest of this place to see if there were any additional exits, stairwells, or anything else that could help me.

It took a minute of wandering before I discovered the kitchen, where the aroma of rich spices and simmering food filled the air, making my stomach growl again. Behind the counter stood the same man cooking. I stepped inside, and he turned, as if sensing my presence.

His gaze shifted to the tray in my hands, and he rushed toward me. “You didn’t have to bring it, Miss,” he said, reaching for it. “I would have come to get it.”

"It's fine," I said quickly as he took the tray and carried it to the sink. As I looked over at the simmering skillet, another thought occurred. Forcing a small, polite smile, I took a step closer. “I’m Vera,” I introduced myself, and the man seemed mildly surprised but nodded. “Stephen.”

I looked at the stove, where he had been working again. "Are you making Logan's dinner?"

“Yes, I just finished.”

“Do you need help with anything?” He quickly said no, but I wasn’t about to let up; this may be my only chance. Closing the gap between us, I insisted on helping. I told him I was grateful that Logan had taken me in and wanted to express my gratitude. I added that I was not very good at cooking and could pour his drink.

My eyes were pleading, and he sighed, setting down the glass in his hand. He said it’s not that he didn’t want to let me help, but Logan preferred that only he touched his food. But I didn’t let him finish and pleaded with him like I didn’t hear any of what he just said.

He said he would ask Logan if it was okay, and I nodded as he turned, thinking I could use some alone time in the kitchen. But Stephen was not leaving without me. He turned and asked me to join him, and I followed, my heart racing as I prayed Logan would say yes; otherwise, I had no idea what to do. Drugging Logan was the only thing I could think of, and if it failed, I didn’t know what else to do.