Chapter 8

The lights of Manhattan blurred past the taxi window.

Elisa walked into Le Bernardin, the heavy glass doors shutting out the city noise. The maître d' led her to a secluded, semi-private booth in the back.

Jewel was already there, pouring two glasses of vintage champagne. A plate of caviar sat untouched between them.

Jewel took one look at Elisa's jagged haircut and smiled. "To freedom," Jewel said, raising her glass.

The crystal clinked. Elisa took a long, burning swallow of the champagne. The tension in her neck finally began to melt.

Jewel reached into her Hermes bag and slid a thick manila envelope across the table.

"New IDs, new passports," Jewel whispered. "And Kayden's acceptance letter to the private academy on Long Island. Under the name Gilmore."

Elisa gripped the envelope, pressing it against her chest. "Thank you. This is everything."

The champagne flowed. The conversation naturally drifted to the chaos of the previous night.

"I still can't believe August paraded that little rat into your ER," Jewel hissed, stabbing a piece of bread.

Elisa let out a dark, cynical laugh. "You should have seen her. Ruptured corpus luteum. The amount of internal bleeding... she practically destroyed her own insides trying to keep him entertained."

Elisa took another sip of wine. "Honestly? She deserved every ounce of that pain."

Just on the other side of the carved wooden privacy screen, a man had heard their conversation and sat frozen.

Cyprian, August's Ivy League fraternity brother and closest confidant, was having dinner with a Wall Street client.

He had heard the familiar voice. He had put his fork down and leaned closer to the wooden slats.

The ambient noise in the restaurant was minimal, but the carved wooden privacy screen was just thin enough to let voices bleed through. Cyprian set his fork down, straining his ears as he caught distinct, horrifying fragments of the conversation. Allena... ER... massive bleeding... destroyed her insides... she deserved the pain.

Cyprian's blood boiled. He worshipped Allena. To him, she was a fragile, perfect angel.

His mind instantly filled in the blanks. He assumed Allena had suffered a miscarriage, and this bitter, jealous wife was sitting here drinking champagne and laughing about the dead baby.

Cyprian peered through the gaps in the wood. He saw Elisa throw her head back and laugh at something Jewel said.

Disgust twisted his stomach.

He pulled out his phone, turned off the flash, and snapped a photo of Elisa holding the champagne glass, looking victorious.

He opened his messages and sent the photo directly to August.

Cyprian: Your wife is at Le Bernardin celebrating. I just heard her with my own ears. She's laughing about Allena bleeding in the ER, saying she destroyed her insides and that she deserved the pain. She's an absolute monster.

Cyprian hit send, threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table, and stormed out of the restaurant.

Elisa, completely unaware of the poison spreading through the digital ether, finished her drink.

"Let's take Kayden to Central Park this weekend," Jewel smiled.

Elisa nodded. Suddenly, her phone vibrated violently on the table.

It was a text from Claire, the ER nurse.

Claire: Elisa, please help me! I'm at the SOHO club. I messed up bad with some VIPs. They won't let me leave. Please!

Elisa's smile vanished. A cold prickle of dread crawled up her spine. Her mind instantly went on high alert. Claire was timid; she wouldn't dare approach VIPs at a high-end club like SOHO. The phrasing felt off, too calculated. This had all the hallmarks of a trap. But if August's people had somehow gotten to Claire, Elisa couldn't just ignore it and leave an innocent girl to the wolves.