Chapter 4

The ninety-day waiting period mandated by California law was a strange sort of purgatory. I was legally free, but not yet truly gone. I moved into a small, anonymous apartment in a part of the city Julian would never visit. It was spartan, with only a bed, a desk, and a few chairs, but it felt more like a home than the mansion ever had.

I spent my days in a quiet routine. I exercised, meditated, and remotely managed the restructuring of my family's company, pouring my energy into making it stronger, more resilient, impenetrable to any future attacks. I was building my fortress, brick by brick. The work was a balm, a welcome distraction from the constant, low-level hum of anxiety that lived under my skin.

Every evening, I would call my parents. They were thriving on their island paradise. My father was learning to fish. My mother had started a garden. Their voices, once strained with the stress of running a company, were now light and full of laughter. They thought they were on the vacation of a lifetime, and for now, that was enough. Each call was a dose of pure relief, a reminder of what was at stake.

"We miss you, sweetheart," my mother would say. "When are you going to come join us?"

"Soon, Mom," I'd promise, my throat tight. "Very soon."

One afternoon, I was sitting in a small café near my apartment, reviewing quarterly reports on my laptop, when a hesitant voice broke my concentration.

"Excuse me? Scarlett?"

I looked up. It was Lily Chen. She was standing by my table, looking nervous and clutching a sketchbook to her chest. She wasn't wearing her paint-splattered overalls. Today, she was in a simple sundress, and I noticed for the first time that she looked... healthier. Less like a struggling artist and more like someone who was being well taken care of.

"Lily," I said, my tone neutral. I closed my laptop.

"I... I hope this isn't weird," she stammered. "I saw you through the window. I just... I never properly thanked you for what you did. You saved my life."

"Anyone would have done the same," I said, my words clipped. I wanted her to leave. Her presence was a complication I didn't need.

"No," she insisted, shaking her head. "They wouldn't have. Most people just watch." She gestured to the empty chair across from me. "Can I... can I buy you a coffee? As a thank you?"

My first instinct was to say no, to send her away and maintain the clean break I had fought for. But then, a cold, calculating part of my brain took over. She was a direct line to Julian. An unwitting source of information. Understanding her was understanding his greatest weakness.

"Alright," I said, gesturing for her to sit.

She sat down, her relief palpable. She was earnest and open, with a sincerity that was almost painful to watch. She told me about her art, her passion for capturing the "hidden beauty in forgotten places." She talked about her dreams of having her own gallery one day. She didn't mention Julian, and neither did I. Our conversation was a carefully constructed fiction, dancing around the massive, unacknowledged truth between us.

As she was getting ready to leave, she hesitated, a shadow crossing her face.

"There's something else," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Something I have to tell you. Because you were his wife, and... and I feel like you have a right to know."

I waited, my body tensing.

She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands, which were resting on her sketchbook.

"I'm pregnant, Scarlett."

The words hit me with the force of a physical impact. A baby. A child that would tie Julian to her forever. A child that would have been my stepchild. In the first timeline, had she been pregnant then? Was this the reason for his desperate, violent need to be free of me?

My carefully constructed composure almost cracked. This changed everything.

"Julian is the father," she continued, her voice trembling. "He's... he's happy about it. He wants to build a family with me."

I felt a wave of nausea. The image of Julian, the cold, sterile man I knew, holding a baby, his baby, was grotesque.

"I see," I managed to say, my voice a hollow echo of itself.

"I'm sorry," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I know this must be awful for you to hear. I just... I felt so guilty. You were so kind to me, and I'm the reason your marriage ended."

Oh, you sweet, naive girl, I thought. You're not the reason. You're just the excuse.

I had to get away from her. The information was too much, the implications too vast. I stood up abruptly.

"I have to go," I said.

Her face fell, her guilt deepening. "Of course. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Don't be sorry," I said, my voice harder than I intended. "Just be careful, Lily. You have no idea who you're dealing with."

I walked out of the café, leaving her sitting there, looking bewildered and hurt. My mind was racing. A child gave Julian a new vulnerability, but it also made him infinitely more dangerous. He would do anything to protect his new family, his legacy.

I got back to my apartment, my hands shaking. I needed to hear their voices. I dialed the satellite phone number for the island.

My father answered, his voice booming with good cheer.

"Scarlett! Your mother just caught a fish bigger than my head! You should see this thing!"

I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window. The sound of his uncomplicated joy was the only thing holding me together.

"That's great, Dad," I said, forcing a smile into my voice.

"Are you alright, honey? You sound tired."

"I'm fine, Dad. Just working hard. I love you."

"We love you too. More than anything."

I hung up the phone. The warmth of his words settled in my chest, a small, fierce flame against the encroaching darkness. Lily's pregnancy didn't change the mission. It just raised the stakes. I had to disappear, and I had to do it now. Before Julian's new family made him destroy what was left of mine.

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