Chapter 3

Elinor Flowers POV

The night dragged on. I didn't sleep. The image of my father, his kind eyes, his gentle smile, haunted me. Each ticking second was agony. I kept refreshing my phone, hoping for a message, a sign. Nothing.

Finally, as the first hint of dawn colored the sky, my phone buzzed. Future Jadon.

"I needed to breathe," he wrote. "It's hard to talk about this. The hardest."

He paused again. Then, the truth began to unfold, piece by agonizing piece.

"Your father... he had a sudden attack. A major one. The one we always feared," he wrote. "You were in Singapore, presenting your new project. I was told. I immediately called Dr. Chen, the best heart surgeon. I arranged everything. They were on their way."

Another pause. The suspense was unbearable.

"Then Kimberly called me," he continued. "She said she was pregnant. With my child. She said she was having complications. She was bleeding. She said she was losing the baby. Our baby."

My blood ran cold. My head swam.

"I panicked," he wrote. "I left immediately. I told my assistant to make sure the doctors got to your father. I told him to call me with updates."

"I was with Kimberly in the ER. She was distraught. Crying. She said she lost the baby. I believed her. I was shattered."

"When I finally called my assistant, he told me Dr. Chen's team had been canceled. Someone called the hospital, impersonating me. She knew my assistant's name, the hospital, the surgeon-everything. She'd been in my office, gone through my emails while I was in the shower. She planned it for weeks. They said I wanted to use a different team. A cheaper, less experienced one. They said the surgery was delayed."

The words blurred. My vision swam.

"By the time I rushed back, it was too late. Your father... the surgery failed. He died on the table. You screamed for an entire night outside the operating room. I never forgot your face."

"I have carried that guilt for five years, Elinor. Every single day. It was her. She did it. She cancelled the team. She faked the pregnancy. She knew. She wanted him gone. She wanted you broken. And I let her."

I closed my phone. My hands were shaking. My head felt light. I couldn't process it. My father. Dead. Because of Kimberly. Because of Jadon's weakness.

I ran to my parents' house. The door was unlocked. My father was in the living room, reading the morning paper. He looked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Elinor! What a surprise, sweetheart!" he said, his voice warm. "Rough night? Did Jadon finally get on your nerves?"

I walked over to him, my legs trembling. I sank into the armchair beside him. I buried my face in his shoulder. His familiar scent, a mix of old books and pipe tobacco, filled my senses. I held him tight.

"No, Dad," I choked out, my voice muffled. "I just... I just wanted to see you."

I spent the whole day at their house. I helped my mother make lunch, chopped vegetables, listened to her chatter about the neighbors. I played chess with my father, letting him win, just like always. Every laugh, every glance, every touch felt precious. So incredibly fragile.

As I was leaving, I messaged future Jadon again.

"My mother," I wrote. "What about her? What happens to her?"

His reply was swift this time. Filled with raw anguish.

"Kimberly put her in a nursing home. Not a good one. A cheap one. She said it was too much for you to handle, after your father. She said you needed space. She convinced me. I let her."

"The staff... they weren't good. They over-medicated her. She became confused. Lost. She didn't recognize anyone. Not even me. She just sat there, staring blankly. She died a year later. From neglect. From a broken heart."

My phone slipped from my hand. It clattered to the floor. I looked back at the kitchen. My mother was humming a tune, washing dishes. Her apron was dusted with flour. She looked so happy. So alive. The image of her lost, confused, in a terrible place, suffocated me.

I pulled over on the drive home. The city lights blurred through my tears. I leaned my head against the steering wheel. My shoulders shook uncontrollably. How could they? How could Jadon, the man I loved, let this happen? How could Kimberly, my supposed sister, orchestrate such cruelty?

I remembered Jadon's kindness. His unwavering support. His laughter. His embrace. Now, it felt like a hollow shell. A phantom limb. I tried to reconcile the man I loved with the man who stood by and watched my family be destroyed. I couldn't. The evidence was too strong. The future Jadon's words were too specific.

I wiped my face. My tears tasted salty. Cold. I drove home.

The first thing I did when I got back was open my laptop. I started searching. Hospitals. Nursing homes. Architectural firms. I wasn't just planning my escape. I was planning their downfall. I would not let this future happen. My parents would be safe. My firm would be mine.

Then my phone rang. It was the hospital. My annual check-up results. I braced myself for the usual "everything looks normal."

"Ms. Flowers," the doctor's voice was calm, professional. "We have your results. You're three months pregnant."

My world tilted. The phone almost slipped from my grasp. I pressed a trembling hand to my abdomen. Pregnant? Three months? That meant... before the engagement. Before the proposal. Before the FaceTime call. Before the betrayals.

Tears sprang to my eyes. They weren't tears of joy. Not exactly. They were tears of a horrifying, twisted irony. A child. Our child.

I sat in the sterile hospital hallway for what felt like an eternity. My mind raced. A baby. Jadon's baby. The one future Jadon said would be lost.

I opened my phone again. "Did we have a child?" I messaged future Jadon.

The screen showed "typing..." then stopped. Then, "typing..." again. It paused for a long time. My heart pounded.

Finally, a short message appeared. "We did. Once."

Then, "Don't ask any more, Elinor. Please."

An hour passed in agonizing silence. Then, a new message. A voice note. Future Jadon's voice. It was raw, strained. Shaken.

"Elinor," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Listen to me carefully. Don't tell anyone. Not him. Not Kimberly. Get rid of it. Please. Don't let it happen. Don't let her take it from you again."