Chapter 4 - THE ESCAPE
Ethan didn't wait another second. He turned on his heel, practically tripping over his own designer sneakers, and bolted through the front door. We could hear him scrambling across the hardwood foyer, shouting up the stairs for his mother’s spare set of keys and knocking over an umbrella stand in his blind panic.
Helen stood frozen by the doorway, her mask of absolute control completely shattered. The skin around her mouth was tight, white, and trembling. She looked at me not with anger anymore, but with a venomous, simmering hatred.
“You’ll regret this, Camila,” she hissed, her voice dropping into a venomous whisper. “Ethan will never survive without us. You’ll be crawling back to our doorstep within a month, begging for grocery money. And I will lock the gates.”
“She won't have to crawl anywhere, Helen,” my father said, turning his back on her with supreme dismissal. He walked over to me, his expression instantly softening as he looked down at Noah. “You ready, sweetie?”
“Yes, Dad,” I whispered, tears finally spilling over my lashes.
A minute later, Ethan reappeared in the doorway, breathless and sweating. He practically threw the white SUV key fob, my registration folder, and a hastily packed duffel bag containing my laptop and a few baby clothes onto the gravel at my feet.
“There!” Ethan panted, glaring at me with pure resentment. “Are you happy now? You’re destroying our marriage over a damn vehicle!”
“Our marriage was over the day you let your mother take my car and told me to stop complaining,” I said quietly. I picked up the duffel bag, tossed it into the back seat, and strapped Noah safely into his car seat.
My father didn't say another word to Ethan or Helen. He got back behind the wheel, started the engine, and put the SUV in reverse. As we backed out of the circular drive, I looked out the window one last time.
Helen was standing on the porch, her arms clutched around her chest like a straitjacket, glaring at us with unbridled malice. Ethan had already turned around, walking back inside and letting the heavy oak door slam shut behind him.
We drove in silence for three blocks until the neighborhood of manicured lawns and towering colonial mansions faded behind us, replaced by the familiar, comforting bustle of the city center.
“Where are we going, Dad?” I finally asked, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.
“My place,” he said firmly, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Guest room is already set up. I’ve been expecting this call for three months, Camila. I just gave you enough rope to figure out for yourself that he wasn't going to change.”
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I let out a shaky, half-hysterical laugh. “You knew?”
“I’m a general, Camila,” he smiled faintly, reaching across the console to give my hand a squeeze. “I know a sinking ship when I see one. And it’s time to abandon it.”
