Chapter 11

(Evelyn's POV)

I woke up to sunlight streaming through thin hotel curtains and for a moment, I forgot where I was.

Then it all came rushing back.

I sat up, my body protesting with every movement. I'd slept in my clothes, and hadn't even bothered to take off my shoes. My phone still lay on the nightstand where I'd left it, powered off and silent.

The clock on the wall read 6:47 AM. I'd been asleep for maybe three hours.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and immediately regretted looking in the mirror. My eyes were puffy and bloodshot. My hair scattered at odd angles. God, I looked like hell.

The shower was hot enough to peel, and I stood under it until my skin turned pink. When I finally stepped out, I felt almost human again.

I turned my phone back on and immediately regretted it. Forty-three missed calls. Sixty-two text messages. All from numbers I didn't recognize because I'd blocked Julian's actual number.

I deleted them without reading a single one. There was only one person I needed to talk to right now.

Mr. Creighton answered on the second ring. "Ms. Hart. I wasn't expecting to hear from you so early."

"I need to leave the country." The words came out emotionless. "How soon can you make that happen?"

He paused. "I see. May I ask what's prompted this urgency?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose it doesn't." I heard movements on his end. "The identity erasure process typically takes four to six weeks like I told you, but we've been able to get it to a much closer time. Even with that, we still need to go through some really important procedures."

"I don't even have much time left." I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, gripping the phone tight. "I need to leave as soon as possible."

"Ms. Hart—"

"Evelyn. Just Evelyn." I corrected him again. "I'm not Mrs. Hart anymore."

More movement. "Evelyn, that's right. I understand you're in a difficult position, but these legal procedures need to be followed. Documents need to be filed, records that need to be sealed—"

"I know all of that." I closed my eyes. "I'm asking if there's any way to speed it up again. Please."

The silence stretched long enough that I thought the call had dropped.

"There may be," Mr. Creighton said finally. "But it would require calling in some favors. Making this a priority case. It's highly irregular."

"Can you do it?"

"I can try. But I'll need you to come to the office today. There are papers to sign, arrangements to make. Can you be here by nine?"

I looked at the clock. That gave me just over two hours.

"I'll be there."

***

The law offices of Greystone & Associates took up the entire forty-seventh floor of a downtown high-rise. I'd been here twice before—once when Julian and I signed our wills, and again when I first came to start the erasure process.

The receptionist recognized me immediately. "Mrs. Hart, Mr. Creighton is expecting you. Conference room B."

I didn't correct her. Let her call me Mrs. Hart one last time. Soon enough, that name would cease to exist.

Mr. Creighton wasn't alone when I entered the conference room. Six lawyers sat around the table, along with two people I didn't recognize who had the sharp-eyed look of tech specialists.

"Evelyn, thank you for coming." Mr. Creighton gestured to an empty chair. "These are my associates. They'll be handling different aspects of your case."

I sat, folding my hands in my lap to hide how badly they were shaking. "You said you could expedite the process."

"We've been authorized to do so, yes."

"Authorized by who?"

Mr. Creighton exchanged glances with the woman to his left. "I'm not at liberty to disclose that information. What I can tell you is that someone with considerable resources has taken an interest in ensuring your safe departure."

A chill ran down my spine. "Someone Julian knows?"

"No." The answer was brief and firm. "Someone who wants to help you. That's all I can say."

I wanted to push harder and demand answers. But honestly, I was too exhausted to care. If someone wanted to help me disappear, I'd take it.

One of the tech specialists leaned forward. "The identity erasure process is complex. We'll be removing you from all public records, social media databases, credit histories. Your social security number will be retired and a new one issued. For all intents and purposes, Evelyn Hart will cease to exist."

"How long again?"

"Two weeks."

I blinked. "You said a month was the minimum."

"That was before we received authorization to expedite." The tech specialist pulled up a tablet, showing me a timeline. "We've already started the preliminary work. Your social media accounts will be deactivated today. Financial records transferred to your new identity by end of week. Your legal name change will be processed as an emergency case."

It was happening. God, it was really happening.

"Any other thing I need to know?"

"None for now. But if any arises, you'll be informed."

"Okay," I heard myself say.

The next two hours were a blur of paperwork. I signed my name so many times I lost count.

"Last one," Mr. Creighton said, sliding a final document across the table. "This transfers all your assets to your new identity. Once you sign, Evelyn Hart will be financially erased."

I picked up the pen.

"Are you certain?" he asked quietly. "Once this is done, there's no going back."

Was I certain? I thought about Julian on his knees, begging. I thought about Serena's face in that security footage. I thought about eighteen months of lies and the baby we'd lost and the woman I'd been slowly disappearing while trying to make him happy.

I signed.

"There." I set the pen down. "Evelyn Hart is dead."

Mr. Creighton gathered the papers. "Not quite. You have two weeks until everything is finalized. During that time, I strongly suggest you stay somewhere Julian can't find you. The hotel is fine for now."

"I'll figure something out."

"There's also the matter of your departure." He pulled out another folder. "We've arranged for a first-class ticket to London. The flight leaves in fourteen days. You'll have a fully furnished apartment waiting, first six months paid."

My head snapped up. "I never said I wanted to go to London."

"The person funding this process believes it's the best option. Far enough from Julian to ensure your safety, but English-speaking so you can start rebuilding your life."

"Who is this person?" I demanded. "Why are they doing this?"

"I truly don't know." And he looked like he was telling the truth. "I received instructions through a third party. The funds were transferred anonymously. All I know is that someone wants to help you disappear, and they have the resources to make it happen quickly and completely."

I should have been scared and questioned this mysterious benefactor and their motives. But sitting in that conference room, signing away my entire identity, all I felt was relief.

Someone was helping me. Someone saw that I needed to escape and was giving me the means to do it.

I'd question it later. But right now, I'd take it.

"Fine," I said. "London it is."