Semua Bab Shattered Vows : Bab 51 - Bab 60

ElenaThe morning fog rolled in heavily over the hills of Zurich, blanketing the safehouse in quiet tension. It was too calm. The kind of stillness that came before something broke.I stood by the window, clutching the old wooden box Jason’s father had given me. The air smelled of pine and rain, but all I could taste was memory—bitter and clinging.Lauren had gone back to Scotland. Lucas was asleep down the hall, weapon tucked beneath his pillow. Noah snored softly in the next room, unaware of the war his mother was waging from behind locked doors and encrypted networks.I wasn’t the woman I used to be.And maybe that was the most terrifying part.Because I didn’t miss her.Later that afternoon, the plan began to take shape.We leaked the letters.Not through traditional media, but through survivor networks. Underground forums. Safe spaces for women who’d been silenced, doubted, or dismissed. Communities where truth traveled fast and far—and could

ElenaReturning to Westbridge wasn’t the triumphant homecoming I imagined—it was quieter, more complicated.The town still looked the same. The cobblestone sidewalks, the rows of manicured hedges, the too-perfect smiles of neighbors who now couldn’t meet my eyes.They’d all seen the interview.They’d seen Jason’s arrest.They’d seen me break—and survive.I wasn’t the woman they pitied anymore.I was the woman they feared a little.And that suited me just fine.The clinic was dusty. My name still hangs on the glass door: Dr. Elena Hart, Psychiatrist. Letters faded, but intact.It took a week to get the office back in shape. I changed the furniture, repainted the walls, threw out everything Jason had ever touched.Even the coffee maker.Fresh start means fresh everything.Patients trickled in slowly. Women mostly. Quiet voices asking if I was taking appointments. Tired eyes, haunted stares, masks beginning to slip.I saw myself i

ElenaI didn’t cry on the flight back.Not when the plane took off. Not when I watched the clouds swallow the earth. Not even when the captain said we were nearing Westbridge—the town I once called home, and now saw as the epicenter of my undoing.There was nothing left to mourn. Only loose ends to tie.Only ghosts to face.Lucas picked me up from the airport.He didn’t speak for the first ten minutes. Just drove, hands tense on the wheel, glancing at me like I might shatter.“You found her,” he said finally.I nodded.“And?”“She’s exactly who I thought she’d be. And somehow… less.”He didn’t push. He never did. That was part of why I could still stand him. Lucas Grey never demanded answers—he waited until I was ready to hand them over, piece by bloody piece.“You didn’t use the file,” he said, glancing at my bag.“No.”“Why not?”“Because destroying her won’t fix me. And I don’t want to be another person playing God.”

ElenaI should’ve known there was always someone watching.There always is.It’s the cruel irony of betrayal—you never see it coming until it’s already behind your back, holding the knife.After Victor’s call, I paced the cabin floor for nearly an hour, trying to piece together how he knew where I was. The location was private. Secure. Not even Lucas knew the exact address—I’d told him only that I was heading to the coast.Which meant someone else had leaked it.But who?My circle was already razor-thin. I’d cut ties with everyone who’d sided with Daniel, distanced myself from reporters, and only spoke to Miriam, the journalist, through encrypted channels. That left only a handful of people who knew anything at all.Lucas.My assistant from the clinic, Grace.And… my mother.A cold knot formed in my stomach.It couldn’t be Grace—she was young, idealistic, scared of confrontation. She barely understood the depth of what was happening. M

ElenaA week passed.Seven long, agonizing days with no word from Sophie.I checked the burner phone every hour. Slept in clothes. Ate next to nothing. Every sound outside made my skin prickle. I was waiting—for a signal, for a betrayal, for the reckoning.The silence was louder than anything else.Until it wasn’t.The message came at 3:14 a.m.Meet me. One hour. Westbridge Inn. Room 512. Come alone. –SNo greetings. No explanations. Just coordinates to what could either be the end—or the beginning.I didn’t wake Noah.Didn’t leave a note.Just slipped the second drive into my coat pocket and left the safehouse like a ghost.The Westbridge Inn used to be a hotel for honeymooners back in the day. Now it was a crumbling husk—peeling wallpaper, flickering hallway lights, the faint scent of mildew clinging to the walls like regret.Room 512 was at the end of the hall.I knocked once.The door creaked open.Sophie stood ther