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Chapter Thirty_One : Portland Rain And Buried Files

作者: Mary Wilson
last update 最終更新日: 2026-03-06 20:05:00

Rain hit the windshield like scattered buckshot as we crossed the Columbia River bridge into Oregon. The wipers kept time left, right, leftsteady and stubborn, like they believed rhythm alone could hold us together. City lights bled into long, trembling streaks across the glass. Even through the sealed windows, Portland felt different. Wet pine. Coffee roasting somewhere far off. The metallic tang of river water rising with the mist. It felt like stepping into a memory that didn

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  • My stepdad's fantasy   Chapter 39 – The River Keeps Its Secrets

    One year after the dumpThe villa sat high on the terraced hillside above the Douro, older than either of them by centuries. Its stone walls had soaked up sun and wind and quiet history long before they arrived, and now the place held their lives the way it held warmthslowly, patiently. Bougainvillea spilled over the iron gate in thick purple waves, petals drifting across the gravel whenever the breeze came off the river.They had bought it six months ago.Quietly.No announcements. No paperwork that mattered. Just cash that had appeared in carefully layered accounts under names that didn’t belong to who they used to be. A local lawyer handled the rest efficient, polite, uninterested in asking questions that didn’t concern his fee. The deed carried the name Sofia Mendes Costa.The house itself was larger than they needed. Four bedrooms sat mostly untouched upstairs, windows open to the valley air. Downstairs, life had slowly spread through the rooms like sunlight creeping across the f

  • My stepdad's fantasy   Chapter 38 – New City, New Skin

    Six months laterSomewhere in the mountains of northern PortugalThe apartment sat high above the Douro River valley, tucked into a row of old stone buildings that had been standing long before either of us had been born. From the balcony, the land rolled away in soft terraces of vineyards rows of vines stitched into the hillsides like careful handwriting. In the late afternoon light, everything turned shades of honey and deep green, the river below catching the sun so that it glittered like shards of broken glass drifting slowly through the valley.It was quiet there. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty—just peaceful. Wind in the leaves. The distant hum of a tractor somewhere down the hill. Church bells from a village we couldn’t quite see.The apartment itself was simple. Whitewashed walls that held the warmth of the sun well into the evening. Terracotta tiles cool under bare feet. Two wooden chairs on the balcony th

  • My stepdad's fantasy   Chapter 37 – The Safe House Dawn

    The safe house was a squat brick building on the far south side of Chicago, tucked behind a shuttered auto-body shop and a row of overgrown lots. No sign. No mailbox. Just a rusted side door Mara unlocked with a key she wore on a chain around her neck. Inside smelled of old coffee and cedar oil someone had tried to make it livable. Solar panels on the flat roof fed a bank of batteries in the corner. Thick blackout curtains over every window. A single landline bolted to the wall, no internet, no Wi-Fi. Off-grid in the truest sense.Mara led us down a narrow hallway to a back bedroom. One queen bed. Clean sheets. A small dresser. A window that looked out on nothing but brick wall.“Food in the pantry,” she said. “Water’s good. Generator backup if the panels fail. Stay inside. No phones. No leaving. I’ll bring updates when I can.”She looked at me long, searching.“You’re shaking,” she said

  • My stepdad's fantasy   Chapter 36 – The Door Breaks

    The sirens didn’t stop at the street.They climbed the fire escape.Metal clanged outside the sixth-floor window boots on the ladder, heavy breathing fogging the glass. Julian was already moving. He yanked the duffel from the floor, pistol in one hand, burner in the other. I pulled on jeans and a hoodie in seconds, heart slamming so hard it hurt my ribs.The sirens were joined by shouts muffled through the walls.“Chicago PD! Open the door! We have a warrant!”No knock. No polite request.The door rattled first with a fist, then with a battering ram.Julian shoved me toward the bathroom. “Window. Fire escape. Go!”I hesitated only a heartbeat then ran.The bathroom window was small, painted shut years ago. I smashed the latch with my elbow, glass cracking. Cold air rushed in. I climbed out onto the narrow metal grating, snow swirling around my face. The fire escape groaned under my weight.Julian followed duffel slung over his shoulder, pistol tucked into his waistband. He pulled the

  • My stepdad's fantasy   Chapter 35 – The Chicago Vault 

    The Greyhound from Portland to Chicago took twenty-nine hours and change.Time on a long-distance bus stretches in strange ways. Hours blur into one another until the road itself feels endless just a ribbon of dark highway under dim headlights, rest-stop signs glowing in the distance, and the steady vibration of tires humming through the floor. That vibration settles into your bones eventually, until it feels like part of your heartbeat.We took the back row.Two hooded figures under a cheap gray blanket we’d bought at a truck stop somewhere in Idaho. The kind of blanket that smelled faintly of detergent and plastic wrapping, but it was warm enough, and that was all we needed.To anyone glancing our way, we probably looked like every other tired couple trying to sleep through a long ride.Julian kept one earbud in, the other shared with me. A low playlist hummed quietly between us nothing memorable, just soft background noise to fill the silence.His hand rested on my thigh most of th

  • My stepdad's fantasy   Chapter 34 : The Midnight Call

    The motel room settled into a kind of uneasy quiet, the sort that never feels natural. The neon sign outside flickered red through the thin curtains, washing the walls in a faint, pulsing glow that made everything look bruised. The air conditioner had sputtered out an hour ago, leaving behind a damp heaviness that clung to my skin. Somewhere beyond the parking lot, trucks groaned along the interstate, the sound low and constant—like distant thunder that never quite arrived.The laptop sat open between us on the bed.Refresh.Refresh.Refresh.Every thirty seconds the page reloaded automatically, and every thirty seconds the story grew teeth.By 11:43 p.m., the first major outlet had taken the bait.Reuters – Exclusive: Leaked Documents Allege Systematic Genetic Manipulation at Elite Fertility Clinic Linked to Nigerian BillionaireI read it twice. Then a third time, as if repetition would make it less r

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