The night the chains broke

I told her everything.

The words came out in a rush, like water breaking through a dam. I said the contract, I said Julian’s name, I said how Felix had used me, how he had smiled while I cried. I said it all and then I watched Morgan’s face change from anger to something like stunned sorrow.

“You kept that in?” she asked, voice small, like she was afraid the house might hear and punish her too.

“Yes,” I said. My throat tightened. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting them. I thought if I could give them a roof, a name, a promise, then maybe the rest would fall into place. I thought I could survive ten years.”

Morgan put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed like she was anchoring me to the present. “God, Isa. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You told me to leave him.” I tried to smile and failed. “You don’t know the kind of chains paper can make. You don’t know Felix.”

She sat back and looked at me properly then, the way a surgeon looks at a wound. “Tell me everything from the start. Slowly. I need it straight.”

So I said it again. Different words. Smaller pieces. I told her about my father’s hospital bed, about the day Julian walked into the world that had been collapsing around me, about the bargain he offered and the way his courage dried up the moment Felix stepped into the room. I told her about the signatures and the ten-year line that had been drawn across my life. I told her about the nights I pretended to sleep while Felix came home with someone else and the mornings I pretended not to know.

When I finished, Morgan’s eyes were red. She scrubbed a hand over her face like she might erase some of it.

“You poor idiot,” she said finally, and I heard no judgment in it. Only fury and something raw that felt like love.

I went quiet then. There was shame in every memory and she saw it all, every choice I had buried to survive. “I’m finished living like this,” I said, the words small and fierce. “The contract is over. I want out. I want a life that isn’t shaped by his anger or his threats.”

Morgan’s jaw set. “You will leave. I don’t care what he says. He can threaten and yell and try to buy loyalty with fear. He can put men at every door. He can lie and threaten Julian. It doesn’t matter. We move you out while he sleeps or he watches his empire crumble while you walk away. One of those.”

“How? You have a job. I don’t have money of my own. I don’t even have a phone he doesn’t check.” The panic rose with the words. “He controls everything.”

“That is why you told me,” she said. “You did the right thing by telling me. I can get you a burner phone. I can get you cash. I have a cousin who runs a guest house in the next town. No contracts. No prying eyes. You can hide there for a week. I can come every day. Then we plan.”

I swallowed. “And Julian?”

Morgan’s face softened. “I will try him. I don’t know what kind of coward he was back then. I don’t know if he is brave now. But I will try. If he still has what it takes, he will help. If not, I will help. Do not make the man who failed you into the only person who can save you.”

“You think he will help?” Hope felt fragile. I hated how needy it sounded.

“He will if he’s half the man he pretends to be,” Morgan said. “If not, we do it ourselves. I will not let you go back to that house. Not after ten years.”

I laughed then, a short broken sound. “Ten years wasted.”

“Not wasted,” she said. “They made you stronger than you think. And for the record, you are not alone. You never were alone. You chose to act alone, but that was survival. Now choose to be saved.”

I wanted to cry. I wanted to fold her into myself and never let go. “If I leave,” I said slowly, “what about my family? Felix said he would—”

“He threatened them.” Morgan’s voice hardened. “Threats are cheap. Proof is expensive. We get proof. We keep them safe. We put distance between them and him. You will write down every expense, every detail, every man you have seen who works for Felix. We will build a case if we have to. If we can’t, we run. We run hard and fast.”

“How do you expect me to start over?” I asked. My hands were twisting in my lap.

“You start by breathing,” she said simply. “One step at a time. You start by leaving this house tonight. You start by taking a phone and a bag. You start by not letting a man who made the world small for you keep doing it.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, battered notebook and a pen. “Write down three things you want to do when you are free,” she said. “Not big things. Simple things. Coffee in the square. A job application. A haircut that isn’t someone else’s idea. We will begin there.”

I stared at the notebook until the lines blurred. The idea of choosing made my chest ache because it meant I was allowed to have choices. Tiny, ridiculous choices that had once been stolen from me.

“Okay,” I said. My voice was a whisper. “Three things.”

Morgan smiled, fierce and comforting. “Good. Number one, we get you out of that house tonight. Number two, we get you a phone and cash. Number three, you tell Julian the truth and tell him you will not be his bargain again. Do you want me to call him now?”

I closed my eyes. The rain outside had softened to a steady patter. For the first time in a long time I felt a thread of courage tug through me. I nodded.

“Yes,” I said. “Call him.”