“Ma’am, are you sure you don’t want to take the beautiful route? the cab driver asked, glancing at her through the rear view mirror. His voice was calm, almost too calm, with a calm tone that matched the quiet sound of the engine.
“No, just take me to the train station”, Erica replied, her voice thin, as though every word threatened to destroy her already weak composure. She leaned back against the peeled leather seat, clutching her handbag as though it was her last hold to life.
The driver nodded, and continued his driving, his attention focused on the road. The faint smell of cigarette smoke hanged in the air, mixing with the faint smell of wet clothing. But outside, the night sky was heavy with clouds, with the threat of rain in the air.
Erica closed her eyes, but the image of Asher’s face cold, indifferent taunting in her mind.
***
The day had begun as the happiest day of her life.
Earlier that day at breakfast, Erica had stood facing the bathroom mirror, holding on to the pregnancy test reading the two pink lines in trembling hands. For five years she and Asher had been struggling, to have, at least a child. Now, finally, their prayers were answered.
Her heart beat up with joy and a happy smile colored her face. She had imagined how she would tell him. Perhaps she’d surprise him over dinner. She had even gone to the bakery to pick up a small cake, the words "We’re Having a Baby!". piped onto it in beautiful pink icing.
The evening had arrived faster than she expected. She had dressed in a soft lavender dress that Asher had once said complemented her ocean-blue eyes. Erica had hummed to herself as she arranged the table. Candle light glitter, casting warm light over the room. The cake sat in the center, hidden beneath a silver dome.
But Asher hadn’t come home on time. Not unusual, she told herself. He was a busy man, the CEO of a company that demanded his every waking hour. She had attempted to fight the creeping feeling of unease that housed itself in her abdomen with the passage of time.
When the clock struck nine, she called him. No answer. Ten minutes later, she tried again. And again. Finally, after the fifth attempt, he picked up.
“Erica, I’m busy,” he said, his tone fast.
“I know, but it’s our anniversary”, she reminded him, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. “I just wanted to know when you’ll be home.”
There was a pause on the line. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, then hung up.
***
Erica had decided to go to him. Perhaps he’d lost track of time at the office. Perhaps he was plotting a surprise and didn't want her to worry. She wanted to believe that.
She put on a coat and took hold of the cake. The way to his office was quiet, except hopeful beat of her own heart.
Arriving she found the building unusually quiet—except for the head security guard who acknowledged her presence with just a nod and a polite attitude. She took the elevator to the top floor, the box in her hands feeling heavier with each passing second.
The doors slid open, and she stepped into the dimly lit hall way. As she approached his office, voices filtered through the small opening in the door.
She froze.
“I told you she’d never see it coming”, a woman’s voice whispered, filled with pleased satisfaction.
Erica’s pulse quickened as she leaned closer, her breath caught in her throat.
“You think she’ll sign them without a fight?” Asher’s voice. Cold, harsh.
“She worships the ground you walk on, Asher. Of course, she’ll write them”, the woman said, laughing.
Erica pushed the door open.
Asher was standing by the desk with his broad shoulders tightening as he walked towards her. Beside him stood Miley, her arm looped through his, her green eyes glowing with victory.
“Erica,” Asher said, his tone lacking surprise.
“What… what is this?” Erica asked, her voice trembling as she took in the scene.
Miley smirked, her freckled complexion flashing with a wicked kind of joy. “Oh, sweetheart, isn’t it obvious? Asher and I are together now. You can leave.”
Erica looked at Asher, hoping to find in his features, an apology or even a reason. But his hazel eyes held no sympathy. He grabbed the pile of papers from his desk drawer and put them on the desk .
“Sign these,” he said, pushing them toward her.
Her gaze fell upon the bold headline in the top of the page. Divorce Agreement.
Her heart shattered. “You’re divorcing me?”
“It’s for the best,” he said simply.
The words cut deeper than any blade. Erica felt the weight of Miley’s gaze, the ego falling off her in waves. She could barely breathe as her hands trembled at her sides.
She took a step, silently, and picked up the pen lying next to the papers. She wrote her name across the bottom of each sheet, her vision becoming blurry from unshed tears.
As she finished, she laid the pen down with composed care and turned to Asher.
“I hope she’s worth it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. Then, without giving Miley a glance, she walked out.
***
Back in the cab, Erica wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. Her fingers stayed inside her handbag. The driver's silence was god sent that gave her the opportunity to pick up the pieces of herself.
“Rough night?” the driver asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
She glanced at him, surprised by the question. “You could say that.”
The man chuckled, the sound low and alarming. “Life’s funny that way. One minute you feel like you have it worked out, and the next." He stopped, his gaze meeting hers in the glass. There was something about the look in his eyes that made her insides turn to jelly.
”Where are you taking me?" she asked, her tone filled with mistrust.
“To the train station, like you asked,” he replied smoothly.
Yet the way he was going was unknown. He going down a twisted street through an industrial area miles from the station.
“Are you sure this is the right way?”
“Relax, ma’am. We’re almost there,” he said, his tone too casual.
Erica’s grip on her bag tightened. Her instincts screamed that something was wrong.
The driver’s lips curled into a smile. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t usually take jobs like this. But the pay was too good to decline.”
Her blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”
He looked at her in the mirror once more, his smile expanding. “You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s just say… someone wants you gone.”
Help! Erica yelled, her voice slicing through the quietness of the cab. She leapt on the door knob pulling as hard and as fast as she could. It didn’t budge. “Child proof locks, honey," the driver laughed. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Adrenaline shot through Erica's bloodstream, pumping like a war drum. She scratched the window, hitting her fists against the glass, desperate to break free. However, the panes were strong, backed up—not thin enough to break by herself. The car jerked violently to the right, lifting Erica from the passenger side against the door. “Stay still," the driver yelled, the calm surface of his voice breaking apart, as a feeling of defeat replaced his natural calmness. Erica’s mind raced. If she couldn’t get out, she needed to fight. Her hand went for her purse, searching until her fingers caught her phone. She didn’t have time to unlock it—she hit the side button repeatedly, praying someone would notice the emergency SOS signal. The driver's
The steady sound of beeping filled the room. Her eyelids joined, as if dragged by cables, and the blinding whiteness of the room caused her to flinch. Her throat felt dry, and her body ached with an unfamiliar heaviness.”She's coming at last," murmured a gently hopeful voice.Erica blinked, her vision slowly focusing. With kind eyes and dark, wind swept hair, a woman leaned over her, relief and worry dancing in her features. Behind her stood a man with a strong jawline and broad shoulders, his arms crossed tightly as he studied Erica.“Where…” Erica rasped, her voice harsh, her throat dry.”Don't rush," the woman suggested, going for a glass of water on a bedside table. Gently she held it to Erica's lips and allowed her to take a drink. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat, but the questions floating in her mind only increased.“You’re safe now,” the man said, his deep voice reassuring. “We found you by the river two months ago. You were in bad shape, but you’re alive. That’s what
For a moment, Asher simply stared at her, his hazel eyes wide with disbelief. His gentle composure, which normally controlled the boardrooms, broke. “Erica", he mumbled at last, her name a whisper.Erica braced up for a second, tilting her head just a bit as if to laugh at him. “Mr. Whitfield,” she corrected, her tone detached and professional. “It’s ‘Ms. Vaughn’ now.”Asher's face grew fainter. The room remained silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Erica could feel the eyes of the other executives moving between her and Asher, though none dared to speak.”Well, is this anything," a keening voice cut through the stillness.Erica turned her gaze to the woman behind Asher. Miley Brooklyn took a step forward with her green eyes focusing on Erica. Miley's possessive way of resting her hand on Asher's arm wasn't lost on her, either.”They thought you were a goner," Miley sneered. “Imagine our surprise to see you here. Alive, and… well.”“Surprise,” Erica replied evenly, though her
Erica stood by the small brick house, her breath quickening with every passing second. The home she had once cherished as a child now looked strange. It's welcoming warmth replaced by an unwelcome stillness. The white paint was peeling from the wooden wall, and the small garden her mother had so carefully tended was covered with weeds. The memories of this place rushed at her like a tidal wave—her mother humming as she trimmed the roses, the scent of freshly baked cookies coming from the kitchen, and the sound of her own laughter echoing through the halls. But those days were long gone, replaced by uncertainty and fear.Pushing through the gate, Erica went to the front door. Her hand paused just before the brass knob, stained with the passage of years. Her heart pounded uncomfortably against her rib cage as she yelled, "Mom?”The door creaked open, revealing a dim interior covered in dust. The air was suffocating with the smell of abandonment. Erica went inside slowly.“Mom?” she cal
Erica stood by the small brick house, her breath quickening with every passing second. The home she had once cherished as a child now looked strange. It's welcoming warmth replaced by an unwelcome stillness. The white paint was peeling from the wooden wall, and the small garden her mother had so carefully tended was covered with weeds. The memories of this place rushed at her like a tidal wave—her mother humming as she trimmed the roses, the scent of freshly baked cookies coming from the kitchen, and the sound of her own laughter echoing through the halls. But those days were long gone, replaced by uncertainty and fear.Pushing through the gate, Erica went to the front door. Her hand paused just before the brass knob, stained with the passage of years. Her heart pounded uncomfortably against her rib cage as she yelled, "Mom?”The door creaked open, revealing a dim interior covered in dust. The air was suffocating with the smell of abandonment. Erica went inside slowly.“Mom?” she cal
For a moment, Asher simply stared at her, his hazel eyes wide with disbelief. His gentle composure, which normally controlled the boardrooms, broke. “Erica", he mumbled at last, her name a whisper.Erica braced up for a second, tilting her head just a bit as if to laugh at him. “Mr. Whitfield,” she corrected, her tone detached and professional. “It’s ‘Ms. Vaughn’ now.”Asher's face grew fainter. The room remained silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Erica could feel the eyes of the other executives moving between her and Asher, though none dared to speak.”Well, is this anything," a keening voice cut through the stillness.Erica turned her gaze to the woman behind Asher. Miley Brooklyn took a step forward with her green eyes focusing on Erica. Miley's possessive way of resting her hand on Asher's arm wasn't lost on her, either.”They thought you were a goner," Miley sneered. “Imagine our surprise to see you here. Alive, and… well.”“Surprise,” Erica replied evenly, though her
The steady sound of beeping filled the room. Her eyelids joined, as if dragged by cables, and the blinding whiteness of the room caused her to flinch. Her throat felt dry, and her body ached with an unfamiliar heaviness.”She's coming at last," murmured a gently hopeful voice.Erica blinked, her vision slowly focusing. With kind eyes and dark, wind swept hair, a woman leaned over her, relief and worry dancing in her features. Behind her stood a man with a strong jawline and broad shoulders, his arms crossed tightly as he studied Erica.“Where…” Erica rasped, her voice harsh, her throat dry.”Don't rush," the woman suggested, going for a glass of water on a bedside table. Gently she held it to Erica's lips and allowed her to take a drink. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat, but the questions floating in her mind only increased.“You’re safe now,” the man said, his deep voice reassuring. “We found you by the river two months ago. You were in bad shape, but you’re alive. That’s what
Help! Erica yelled, her voice slicing through the quietness of the cab. She leapt on the door knob pulling as hard and as fast as she could. It didn’t budge. “Child proof locks, honey," the driver laughed. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Adrenaline shot through Erica's bloodstream, pumping like a war drum. She scratched the window, hitting her fists against the glass, desperate to break free. However, the panes were strong, backed up—not thin enough to break by herself. The car jerked violently to the right, lifting Erica from the passenger side against the door. “Stay still," the driver yelled, the calm surface of his voice breaking apart, as a feeling of defeat replaced his natural calmness. Erica’s mind raced. If she couldn’t get out, she needed to fight. Her hand went for her purse, searching until her fingers caught her phone. She didn’t have time to unlock it—she hit the side button repeatedly, praying someone would notice the emergency SOS signal. The driver's
“Ma’am, are you sure you don’t want to take the beautiful route? the cab driver asked, glancing at her through the rear view mirror. His voice was calm, almost too calm, with a calm tone that matched the quiet sound of the engine.“No, just take me to the train station”, Erica replied, her voice thin, as though every word threatened to destroy her already weak composure. She leaned back against the peeled leather seat, clutching her handbag as though it was her last hold to life.The driver nodded, and continued his driving, his attention focused on the road. The faint smell of cigarette smoke hanged in the air, mixing with the faint smell of wet clothing. But outside, the night sky was heavy with clouds, with the threat of rain in the air.Erica closed her eyes, but the image of Asher’s face cold, indifferent taunting in her mind.***The day had begun as the happiest day of her life.Earlier that day at breakfast, Erica had stood facing the bathroom mirror, holding on to the pregnan