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Once it’s over, I stand up again and go over to the sink, rinsing my mouth out with a handful of water. The espresso maker beeps, pulling my attention away.
As I walk over to prepare the coffee, I feel another wave of anger, this time directed at the Everharts. Those men have so much. They have everything they could possibly want, but they act like I’m the entitled, bratty one.
It makes me so angry. My fists clench as I think about what I’d do with even a fraction of their wealth. I could leave this place behind and take my baby far away, raise him by myself, and never have anything to do with Theo, Ryder, or Oliver, ever again.
As I finish, the idea nags at me, growing more appealing with each passing moment.
It would be so easy to get my hands on a few valuables here and there. Not a lot. Just enough to keep me comfortable until I find a better job.
I scan the kitchen, eyes landing on a ceramic jug—the Dutch kind with blue designs. It has to be worth some money, right? But I dismiss that idea immediately. I need to be smart about this. I can’t steal anything breakable, anything that would immediately draw notice.
Maybe I could access Theo’s office today while I’m cleaning and snoop through his drawers. He’s got to have some valuables lying around. I rule out stealing any of their fancy watches, figuring they’d have some kind of insurance policy on those. Better to go for less obvious but still valuable items.
Once I deliver Ryder’s breakfast, excitement starts to course through me at the thought of getting away from this place. I feel better than I have in ages, and as I begin my morning chores, the excitement only mounts. Tonight, I’ll pack my things and leave, start a new life with just me and my baby.
As soon as my morning chores are done, I position myself near the front door, pretending to dust the bookshelf in the hall so I can catch the moment Theo leaves for the city. I know he has plenty of expensive, useless trinkets in there that I could easily pawn for cash.
Once he’s gone, I take the opportunity to sneak upstairs to his office, slipping inside.
The first thing that jumps out is his prized collection of rare vinyl records placed neatly inside a cabinet above his record player. Figuring I could easily slip a half a dozen of those into my suitcase, I open the cabinet to take stock. I don’t think he’d notice any are gone until he goes to look for them.
Okay, the records are a great idea, but what else can I take? I shut the cabinet and spot a couple of antique lighter cases sitting on the shelf. They look shiny and valuable. My eyes grow wide when I see them, and I stroke a finger over them lightly, praying they’re worth something.
Just as I reach out for them, I hesitate, gaze lingering on the cases glinting on the shelf. A wave of guilt washes over me, threatening to engulf my resolve. My fingers tremble, and I feel torn between the desperation for better and the nagging sense that this isn’t who I want to be.
I worked so hard to get away from my father, to be nothing like him. And yet here I am, on the verge of betraying my principles for a quick buck.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, willing myself to resist the allure of easy money. Even if things get hard, it’s better to be an honest beggar than a rich thief.
As I leave the office behind, my heart feels heavy in my chest. Curling up in my bed, I place a hand on my still-flat belly.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to the baby inside me. “I can’t do it. I’ll find a way for us to make it, but I won’t steal to do it.”
Clenching my hands into fists, I sit up and wipe my face. The Everharts are the real crooks here. They’re the ones taking things that don’t belong to them. I know what kind of business they’re in.
Straightening my posture, steely determination shines in my eyes as I resolve to break free of their control and begin throwing things into my suitcase. I don’t have much of a plan, but I know I can’t stay here a minute longer, not if I want to hold onto what’s left of my dignity.
However, as I step out into the crisp evening air, excitement tinged with apprehension, reality delivers its first blow. My footsteps falter as I reach the car, anticipation giving way to dismay as I turn the key in the ignition. The engine sputters weakly before falling silent, refusing to go along with my plan to escape.
“Fuck,” I curse, smacking my hand against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling to the surface.
Resigning myself to walking, I heft my backpack onto my shoulder and head down into the forest, leaves crunching underfoot as I pass verdant green pine trees and towering oaks.
The deeper I go, though, the more I feel like I’m heading in the wrong direction.
Storm clouds gather overhead, escaping my notice as I traverse the dense, thick forest. It isn’t until the sky is lit up by a bolt of lightning that I look up and realize how dark it’s gotten.
I need to get out of here, I realize, pushing myself to walk faster. The forest is quiet, all the animals taking shelter from the oncoming storm. Walking faster, I head for where I think the road might be, but I find myself hopelessly lost. The wind is picking up now, which isn’t helping me find my bearings.
Stopping to get myself situated, I lean against the rough bark of a nearby tree as I try to make sense of things. Unfortunately, as I take a deep breath, the scents of pine needles and dirt fills my nose, making me gag. I bend down, feeling ill, and start throwing up again.
When I stand up, my head feels dizzy, and I take a step forward, the world spinning around me. As I fight to stay awake, a sharp pain shoots through my head. I stagger, my vision blurring until finally, the ground rushes to meet me with a sickening thud.
A single thought consumes me as I lose consciousness. I am utterly alone out here, at the mercy of the coming storm.
A whispered curse escapes my lips, lost in the howling wind.
11
