04. Long Way Escape

“Madam!”

I shift my gaze to the two men running toward me; a flicker of panic crosses their faces, subtle but unmistakable. They are the guards who wanted to follow me—Mr. Andymon and Mr. Patrick. They quickly lead me away from the guard about to escort me into the elevator, and I feel a sense of loss as Mr. Patrick pulls him aside.

Their stiff posture and the way their eyes dart to him without making direct contact tell me everything and nothing at once. They move too smoothly, like a choreographed dance—efficient and polished—as if trying to keep me calm and ensure I don’t notice that something is off. But I do.

“Madam, are you finished?” Mr. Andymon asks, his tone light and polite, as if we’re discussing brunch rather than a situation that’s setting off every alarm in my head. “You should head back to the roof soon.”

I fold my arms and narrow my eyes at Mr. Andymon. “I ruined my makeup,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Should I go back upstairs and chat with the guests looking like a clown?”

“But, Madam—” he starts, careful not to sound too insistent.

I cut him off with a sharp wave of my hand. “I refuse to go back upstairs unless your master decides to accompany me. Do you know how humiliating it feels? It’s like I married a decoration instead of a real person!”

“Mr. Maximilian has returned, Madam.”

“Shit. That’s worse!”

“Madam?” Mr. Andymon tilts his head, confused but still trying to remain composed.

“Never mind. I need to fix my makeup before facing anyone upstairs. Please tell Maximilian that.”

Mr. Andymon’s face stiffens, revealing his hesitation. This isn’t in the manual—dealing with a bride who might bolt if given an inch of freedom. He parts his lips as if to argue, but I tilt my head and give him a sly smile.

“If you’re that worried I’ll run away, you can come with me.”

I step into the elevator, and Mr. Andymon follows, pressing the button for the first floor in silence. The elevator hums softly, the awkward silence stretching between us. I shift my weight from foot to foot, my mind racing back to the bodyguard from earlier.

What if he was trying to help me? If Sarah sent him, it makes sense. It’s been three days, and she hasn’t heard from me. Sarah wouldn’t sit back quietly—she's too sharp, too sensitive to let this slide. If anyone could find me and send someone, it would be her.

The thought fills me with flickers of hope, reigniting my determination to escape this nightmare. I glance at Mr. Andymon, stiff and silent beside me, and an idea begins to take shape. It’s reckless—maybe even stupid—but it’s now or never.

I shift my gaze to the floor monitor—one more stop before we reach the ground floor. Time to act. Slowly, I slip the heavy wedding ring from my left hand and curl it into my right palm.

“Oh no,” I whisper, low enough for Mr. Andymon to hear. I widen my eyes, feigning panic. “Where’s my ring?” I gasp, holding up my now-bare left hand. “It was just here! Did I drop it?”

Mr. Andymon’s confusion deepens as he scans my empty fingers. “Your ring? Are you sure?”

I spin around dramatically, as if searching frantically. “Yes! I had it on just a second ago! Oh my God, it must’ve fallen. I have to find it!”

Mr. Andymon shifts nervously, glancing at the smooth, gleaming floor. “Madam, I don’t see anything.”

I crouch down, running my hands over the spotless surface, hoping the ring will magically appear. “It has to be here!” I say, my voice trembling with feigned panic. “If Maximilian finds out I lost it, he’ll lose his mind. You have no idea how expensive that ring is!”

Mr. Andymon frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “Madam, let’s not panic. We can retrace your steps—”

“No! We don’t have time!” I cut him off, keeping my voice on the edge of hysteria. “If the ring’s really gone, it’s your fault. You should’ve paid more attention to my needs!”

Mr. Andymon mutters under his breath and reluctantly kneels, scanning the elevator floor. Perfect. While he focuses on the imaginary lost ring, I inch closer to the elevator panel. Just a few more seconds, and—

The elevator dings softly, signaling our arrival at the ground floor. I straighten quickly, stuffing the ring into my dress pocket, my heart racing. I gather the hem of my wedding dress, lifting it just enough to avoid tripping, and step backward toward the door. “Come on, it’s got to be here somewhere,” I say, keeping my tone tense to maintain the act.

At the same time, I press random buttons on the control panel behind me, hoping he doesn’t notice.

Mr. Andymon looks up, still crouched. “Mrs. Milton, there’s nothing here—Mrs. Milton, no!”

As soon as I hear the elevator doors click shut, I grin. I stifle a laugh as I watch it ascend, leaving him confused and alone. I did it! My heart pounds with excitement. If I had known fooling him would be this easy, I would’ve run away on day one!

But there’s no time to celebrate. I kick off my heels right in front of the elevator and take off barefoot, the cool marble soothing my feet as I sprint toward the exit.

My dress drags along the floor, but I clutch the hem and weave through the lobby as quickly as I can. The sound of hurried footsteps echoes behind me—other guards must’ve heard something. Cat and mouse it is.

I dart through the crowd, slipping past security and dodging guards at every turn. My lungs burn, but I keep going, sliding through throngs and hallways like a snake. Finally, by sheer luck or stubbornness, I burst through the main doors.

The morning air hits me like cold water, but I barely notice. A bus pulls up just in time, and I sprint toward it, flagging it down. The driver gives me a confused look, but I jump on and collapse into a seat at the back, panting.

“You got a fare?” he asks skeptically.

I freeze—no cash on me. Panic rises, but then my eyes fall on the sparkling wedding ring clutched in my hand. I hand it over and tell him to drive fast. Giving away a ring worth thousands to a stranger doesn’t bother me—I didn’t want it anymore. My future depends on getting to Penn Station.

After what feels like forever, the bus pulls in. I hop off, my feet aching, but adrenaline pushes me forward. No time to waste—I need to get as far from that place as possible.

At the ticket counter, I choose the furthest destination: Chicago. Without hesitation, I board the train, slipping into a seat just as it pulls away. I lean back, tension easing from my shoulders. Almost there. But, of course, things don’t go that smoothly.

“Ticket, please.”

I look up at the attendant, his expression polite but firm. My stomach drops—no ticket.

“I, uh…” My hand brushes the pearl necklace around my neck. Smirking, I undo the clasp and hold it up.

His eyes widen. “What’s this?”

“Genuine pearls. Worth at least $20,000.”

He blinks in disbelief. “Is this real? Are you sure, Ma’am?”

“Positive. And I need a ticket to San Francisco. Can you gimme that?”

He stammers, still staring at the necklace. “Y-Yes, Ma’am! Absolutely!”

“Good.” I drop the necklace into his trembling hand with a satisfied smile.

I settle back into my seat, exhaling a long breath. I did it. The train rattles beneath me, speeding toward freedom. Chicago is just the first stop—San Francisco is next. This time, no one’s stopping me. After a long journey, I step onto Chicago and wait for the next train.

I shift uncomfortably, tugging the edge of my wedding dress to cover my bare feet. I must look ridiculous. My makeup is ruined—smudged eyeliner, streaked foundation, mascara clumped around my eyes. The once-elegant dress now feels like a burden, dirty from the chase, its hem torn from running barefoot.

I glance around the station, the prickling sensation of being watched crawling up my spine. Maybe it’s just the way I look, but what if it’s more than that? What if he knows?

The California Zephyr whistles low and deep. My hands shake, but I tell myself: Keep moving. Keep going. No time to stop. I can’t let fear trap me—not when freedom is so close.

The same ticket attendant from earlier approaches, hesitant but kind. He offers a small wad of cash and a ticket.

“This should cover your trip to San Francisco,” he says quietly, like he’s breaking a rule. “Thanks for your help, Ma’am. The necklace you gave proved real—it’ll pay for my daughter’s education.”

“Glad to hear that…” Relief washes over me, feeling relate. Every woman deserves an education, so they won’t end up like me.

I tuck the money into the bodice of my dress, looking at him with desperate eyes. “Please—don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

“Of course, Ma’am. But… are you running from some kind of arranged marriage?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Worse. It’s human trafficking.”

His face twists in horror. “Oh my… You better run, then.”

“That’s exactly the plan.”

The platform hums with engines whirring and passengers boarding. I grab the hem of my dress and head toward the train, but just as I step onto the platform, my gaze catches on that ‘somebody’ boarding the same train. He’s tall, dressed casually—nothing unusual, except for the way he glances at me from under his cap.

No. My stomach drops. I try to shake it off, forcing myself to breathe. He can’t be after me. Don’t jump to conclusions, Ariadne. But with every step, my legs grow heavier as the man vanishes into the carriage.

I pause at the door, biting my lip. Just get on. You can’t stay here. Taking a deep breath, I step into the same carriage. Sliding into a seat, I spot him again—this time near the ticket attendant. My heart pounds.

I can’t hear their conversation, but I see the attendant point toward my section. A cold chill spreads through my chest. They know. He’s one of Maximilian’s men.

I sit perfectly still, praying my heart doesn’t betray me. Please, please don’t come near me. I squeeze my eyes shut, whispering a silent prayer to shield me from whatever is closing in.

Then I hear it—the soft rustle of someone sitting down. Someone has taken the seat across from me. Am I about to be caught?