Chapter 2: The Attempt to escape

It was as chaotic within Belle Madrigal's heart as the storm outside. 

Fat drips raced down the glass of her tiny flat like tears she would not shed as the rain dashed against the windows. Long shadows were created by the bedside lamp's dull glow, which highlighted the bag that was lying open on the bed and partially full with the clothes she had stuffed inside just moments before. 

Her heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears as she zipped up a black duffel bag, her hands shaking. She was unable to stay. No more. 

She had been wiped out by Alistair Kensington. 

As if she were inconsequential. 

She had been reliving the moment she called his office for days, how Gabrielle's icy tone had cut the thin thread that still held them together. No interaction. No recognition. 

Love, not from a man like him, was not what she had anticipated. However, she also hadn't anticipated being thrown out. 

The travel ticket on the nightstand was touched by her fingers. A flight to Seattle, one way. It was far enough to begin anew, yet not far enough to erase the past. 

Belle swallowed forcefully, battling the sickness that had plagued her for weeks. Everything became real when she became pregnant. Too authentic. 

The fabric of her coat hung loosely over her body as she draped it around her shoulders. She had lost weight, heavy bags were bruising under her eyes, and her once-vibrant skin had turned dull. She had been drained by the stress, but she resisted giving in to it. 

Alistair's child, her child, was entitled to better. 

She was made fun of by her image in the broken mirror above the dresser. The woman who had entered Alistair Kensington's world was no longer the same. That woman had been careless, fiery, and mistrustful. 

This female? 

This woman was gaining knowledge. 

Her heart leaped when she heard a strong knock on the door. 

Every muscle in her body locked in place as she froze. 

Nobody came to see her. Nobody was aware of her departure. 

Once more, the knock was louder and more urgent. 

Her pulse hammered as she slipped towards the door. "Who is it?" 

Quiet. 

Then a voice. Low. male. Not familiar. 

"Belle Madrigal?" 

Her breath caught. She didn't respond. 

One more knock. I must talk to you, Miss Madrigal. It is urgent. 

She gripped the handle tighter. She was urged by her intellect to ignore it, to turn away, and to get out of there before it was too late. 

She chose to open the door instead. 

Under the flickering hallway light was a tall man dressed in a dark suit. His features were chiselled into something unintelligible, and his face was keen. His evaluative, black eyes passed over her and rested on her stomach for an excessive amount of time. 

Belle's heart pounded. 

He was aware. 

She raged, "Who are you?" 

The man took a while to respond. He took a business card out of the pocket of his coat. "You shouldn’t be leaving, Miss Madrigal." 

She felt a chill run down her back. 

She refrained from grabbing the card. remained motionless. 

"Why?" 

The man studied her, tilting his head. "Because you don't abandon the Kensington family." Not in this manner. 

The walls seemed to close in, making the space appear smaller. 

"You’re making a mistake," he added in a polished, practiced voice. "And mistakes don’t end well when Alistair Kensington is involved." 

She raised her chin despite the twisting in her stomach. "He doesn’t care what I do." 

The man's face flashed with something sinister. "You think so?" 

Belle balled her fingers into fists. "I know so." 

As though amused, the man let out a breath. "Miss Madrigal, do you know what happens to people who cross that family?" 

Her veins shivered with cold. 

She didn't respond. 

The man lowered his voice and moved closer. "They disappear." 

The world swayed. 

Belle’s breath seized, her gaze narrowing to the man’s shadowed face, to the warning buried under his words. 

She swallowed, attempting to keep her voice steady. "Are you trying to harm me?" 

He didn't blink or smile. "I'm keeping you safe. You won't be the only one in danger if you leave now. Your youngster will be involved. 

Her lungs pounded with air. 

The way he spoke, so composed, so confident, made her ribs tingle with fear. 

Out of reflex, her hand pressed against her abdomen. She had exercised such caution. How was he aware? 

She said in a whisper, "Who sent you?" 

Behind her, the man looked at the partially packed suitcase. "That family doesn't all want you gone." 

Her thoughts were racing. Who else but Alistair? 

The man stepped back, disappearing into the dark passage before she could push any farther. 

"Stay, and you’ll regret it." 

Belle breathed too quickly and shallowly. She had to go. Right now. 

She reached for her suitcase, her fingers shaking. 

Then, as soon as she entered the street, a black car in front of her screeched to a stop. 

Nothing was visible through its tinted windows, but Belle knew. 

There was no coincidence here. 

This served as a warning. 

In front of her, the cemetery was quiet and still, a field of stone monuments rising from the ground like long-forgotten memories. The fear of rain hung heavy in the gloomy sky, making everything appear greyscale. In order to protect herself from the acrid breeze that rustled through the bare trees, Belle Madrigal wrapped her coat tighter around her. 

She felt grounded by the solidity of the damp dirt beneath her feet. A far cry from the turmoil within her. 

She came to a halt in front of the headstone that she had seen numerous times. Madrigal, Miriam. The name was engraved in gleaming stone, the letters aged yet sharp and authentic. A hollow aching settled deep in Belle's chest as her fingers touched the cool stone. 

Her voice was almost audible above the wind as she whispered, "Mom." "I'm not sure what to do." 

The weight bearing down on her made the words seem inconsequential and insignificant. 

She had sought clarification and solutions here. However, there was just silence, the kind that weighed down the bones with remorse. 

She brought a bouquet of white lilies, their exquisite petals floating in the wind, and her eyes wandered to them. She knelt down and laid them carefully on the grave's base. Her voice cracked as she said, "I'm leaving." "I have no other option." 

She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat, and it constricted. She had been choking on Alistair's rejection and his complete disregard for the past two days. Every call was not answered. All contact attempts were received with icy apathy. He had already decided. 

She needed to make hers now. 

Belle touched her stomach, which was only beginning to swell, yet she could feel the life there as though it had always been there. She said, "I'm not sure if I can pull this off." "Raise a child by yourself. Begin anew. 

She trembled when a sudden gust of wind went past. 

Alistair was different, or at least less nasty, than she had assumed. He had been something completely different in his bed that night, dangerous, intense, but not uncaring. Not cold-hearted. 

Now, though? 

In his world of precision and power, she was now simply another discarded error. 

She balled her fingers into fists. 

She refused to be broken by this. 

She stood up straight and took a long breath. "Mom, good-bye," she whispered. "I refuse to return." 

A flutter. 

Belle's body froze as she took a fast inhale. 

A kick. 

There was movement, but it was very slight, hardly more than a murmur. Her child. 

The back of her eyes were burning with tears. 

It wasn't a horrible twist of fate; the child developing inside her was hers. 

Something changed inside her for the first time since she took that pregnancy test. Running was no longer the only thing at stake. It was a conflict. 

The silence was broken as her phone buzzed in her pocket. 

Her heart thumping at the screen, she wiped at her eyes rapidly and took it out. 

An unknown number. 

Her pulse pounded as she hesitated. 

Nobody was aware of her presence. 

Her thumb hovered over the screen as she squeezed her lips together. 

The call then came to an end. 

A shiver ran down her spine as she gazed at the darkening screen. 

There was a problem. 

Belle put the phone back in her pocket and moved away from the cemetery. She refused to respond. 

It didn't matter anymore who it was, Alistair's people, another warning, or a ghost from his realm. She had finished their games. 

As she stepped along the pathway that led back to the main road, the wind blasted through the cemetery. With each stride she took towards freedom, her breath curled in the chilly air. 

A few blocks away was her ride to the airport. 

A final stroll. One more opportunity to get away before the past catches up with her. 

When she got to the cemetery's edge, she crossed the street. 

She heard it at that moment. 

The sound of a motor. 

Too quickly. 

Too near. 

Something invisible but lethal transformed the air. 

Belle's intuition cried out. 

She turned and saw, just barely, a car with sleek black metal, no headlights, no warning, speeding towards her. 

Time slowed. 

Her world shattered in that one second, her breath stopped, her muscles stuck. 

Tires squealed. 

She tried to move. However, it was too late. 

The blow wasn't a soft prod. It was an encounter with destiny. 

She was sent tumbling into the pavement by the force of her body's abrupt jerk. Her hands scraped the gravel, her side slammed against the tarmac, and pain flared in her ribs. 

The world swayed. 

Spun. 

fell apart. 

An automobile door banged somewhere in the distance. Deliberate, heavy footsteps came closer. 

Belle attempted to raise herself, but her limbs resisted. 

Her ears began to ring, yet a piercing, low voice broke through. 

"She’s alive." 

At the periphery of her vision, darkness clawed. 

Then everything darkened.