A Month

Samuel had been searching for Ciara for a full month. Just when he began to think his investigation might have been too harsh, she appeared before him—serving as a waitress in the very room reserved exclusively for him. He had underestimated her. His eyes narrowed in disbelief as he realized she wasn't hiding; she was raising her stakes.

“Director Fury, is something wrong?” The restaurant manager, who had been accompanying Samuel, could barely conceal his fear as he noticed the icy stare directed at him.

“How long has she been working here?” Samuel's voice was dangerously low.

The manager stammered, “A...A month.”

A month? The same length of time since she had escaped from his family’s grasp. Samuel's blood boiled—she wasn’t running away, she was simply positioning herself to negotiate a higher price. Damn her!

Ciara's eyes flickered with resentment as she met his gaze. It felt like a cruel twist of fate. Why did the world have to be so small?

"I don’t know what you’re implying," she said, her voice trembling with both fear and defiance. “Let go of me, or I’ll call the police.”

She twisted her wrist, trying to free herself from his iron grip, but he held on tight. The pain from his hold brought sweat to her brow.

The manager, panic-stricken, shouted at her, “Layla Young, how dare you!”

Samuel sneered, his eyes burning with anger. “Layla Young? You think changing your name and hiding your past will fool anyone?”

At that moment, the lobby supervisor, the same waitress who had asked Ciara to cover her shift, hurried over but froze in fear at the scene unfolding.

Ciara felt her world collapse. She was just two days away from receiving her first paycheck. Now, everything was slipping away again. Her voice cracked as she cried out, “Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why?!”

Her frustration and anger overwhelmed her, and in a desperate move, she leaned in and bit down on Samuel’s arm. His grip loosened just enough for her to yank her wrist free.

Without looking back, Ciara fled. She knew she couldn’t fight him, so she ran with all her might. By the time Samuel regained his composure, she had already darted out of the restaurant and jumped onto a passing bus. She got off after a few stops, her heart pounding in her chest.

As she walked along the sidewalk, tears welled up and spilled over uncontrollably. Her thoughts spiraled—she had gone to prison, lost her mother, and now, her one chance at starting over was being ripped away by this man. What kind of monster was he? Why was he so intent on destroying her life?

She cried until her stomach ached, then doubled over on the roadside, retching. But all that came up was green bile; she hadn’t eaten all day.

A passing woman, noticing her distress, gently patted her on the back. “Are you experiencing early pregnancy symptoms?”

“Pregnant?” Ciara’s eyes widened in shock. She had been feeling nauseous lately but hadn’t considered that possibility. Now, the woman’s words hit her like a ton of bricks—it had been over a month since that night.

In a panic, she rushed to the nearest hospital. She had just enough money for a urine test. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor returned with the results.

“You’re pregnant,” the doctor said, almost dismissively.

Ciara’s world spun. “No, that can’t be…”

The doctor, unfazed, simply replied, “You can opt for an abortion,” before turning to call in the next patient.

Ciara stumbled out of the office and collapsed onto a bench in the hallway, utterly lost.

“Don’t cry…Don’t cry, wipe tears,” a tiny, babbling voice broke through her thoughts. She looked up to see a toddler standing in front of her, trying to wipe away her tears with chubby little hands.

The child’s innocent gesture softened something deep inside Ciara. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

A young mother, smiling apologetically, approached and took the little girl’s hand. “Sorry, she’s very affectionate.”

“No need to apologize. She’s wonderful,” Ciara managed to say, watching as the mother and daughter walked away. A pang of longing tugged at her heart as she placed a hand on her stomach. This child was now her only family, her only tie to a world that had given her nothing but pain.

The next morning, clutching to a fragile hope, Ciara made her way back to the prison, desperately seeking out the one person who had shown her kindness in those dark days—Mary Summer. “Please, can I see Aunt Mary?” she pleaded with the guard.

The guard shook his head. “Mary Summer was released over a month ago.”

“What?” Ciara’s heart sank.

“You’re Ciara Summers, right?” the guard asked.

She nodded, too stunned to speak.

“Mary left a number for you when she got out. I tried to catch you that day, but you didn’t hear me.” He handed her a slip of paper with a phone number scrawled on it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching the paper as if it were a lifeline.

Two hours later, Ciara found herself in the VIP ward of South City’s most exclusive hospital, standing before Mary’s bed. The older woman lay there, frail and elegant, her once-vibrant hair now a soft gray.

“Aunt Mary?” Ciara called softly.

Mary slowly opened her eyes, a weak smile spreading across her face as she saw who it was. “Ciara, you’re here at last. I’ve been waiting to see you.”

“I’m here,” Ciara replied, forcing a smile. She knew Mary’s son must have arranged for her early release from prison. It all made sense now—why they’d let her go so easily. But how could she, a penniless ex-convict, even think of asking for help from someone like Mary?

As Mary spoke, Ciara wrestled with herself, her pride fighting against her desperation. Finally, she whispered, “Aunt Mary, I hate to ask you this, but I’m in trouble. I need a loan…”

“How much do you need?” a voice cut in from behind her, one she recognized all too well. Ciara’s heart nearly stopped as she turned around to see who had spoken.

It was him.