Page 12 of Ivory Legacy

“Sorry, El,” I murmured under my breath, the words dissolving into the darkness. There was no space for hesitation, no room for second-guessing. The necessity of my actions crystallized with every shaky beat of my heart. For my child, my future—I would do whatever it took.

The stillness of Ellie’s apartment was a deceptive shroud, the quiet only amplifying the hammering of my heart against my ribs. I stood motionless, the bag clutched in my hand like a lifeline, straining my ears for any hint of movement, any sign that my plan was unraveling before it could truly begin.

My breath hitched as the faintest creak sounded from somewhere within the darkened maze of rooms, a mundane noise transformed into a sinister omen by the charged atmosphere of my escape. I waited, every nerve ending alight with a primal alertness that bordered on paranoia. But no footsteps followed, no voices shattered the fragile silence that enshrouded us.

I exhaled slowly, steadying the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

Enough stalling, Jade. It’s now or never.

With practiced precision, I zipped up my bag, each click of the teeth a tiny chime in the cavernous night. I slung it over my shoulder, the strap pressing into my flesh—a grounding pressure amidst the chaos of my racing thoughts.

I inched the door open, my breath coming in shallow gulps that I feared were too loud in the silence of Ellie’s apartment. The cool metal of the doorknob against my palm was grounding, a reminder of the physical world when every cell in my body seemed to be screaming with anticipation and dread.

The hallway lay bathed in shadows, the feeble light from a distant street lamp filtering in through a grime-smeared window at the far end. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to confirm the coast was clear. No lurking shapes, no whisper of movement.

I let out a soft sigh as relief flushed through me, quick and heady. My legs, previously tense as coiled springs, carried me forward now with newfound purpose. There was no turning back. I had made my choice, and with each step toward the stairway, I sealed my fate.

With a final glance over my shoulder at the closed apartment door, I stepped out into the cool night air. The chill was immediate, biting at my exposed skin, but it couldn’t rival the ice in my veins. I nudged the door closed with the heel of my boot, holding my breath as the latch clicked softly into place. The sound seemed to echo in the stillness, and for a moment, I stood frozen, waiting for any sign that I’d been heard.

None came.

My heart hammered a rapid beat, urging me on, and I listened. The apartment building was silent save for the distant hum of the city that never truly sleeps. My steps quickened along the hallway, the dim emergency lights casting long shadows that flickered as I passed. I kept my eyes sharp, darting from one murky corner to the next. The Morettis had eyes everywhere, and I couldn’t risk being spotted now—not when I was so close to freedom.

I could almost feel the weight of surveillance cameras that might not even be there, but paranoia had become a second skin. There was no room for error. Every step felt like a negotiation between the need for haste and the caution that my predicament demanded. With each stride, I committed myself further to this path—each soft footfall on the carpet a silent vow to protect the life that thrived inside me despite the odds.

This was it. The beginning of a treacherous journey, walked under the cover of night’s anonymity. A single thought propelled me forward: for the child whose heartbeat was the most vital rhythm I knew, I would brave the darkness and all its lurking dangers.

As I reached the end of the hallway, I didn’t look back. There was nothing left for me in that direction. Ahead lay the unknown, a path fraught with risks and lined with shadows that could hide friend or foe. Yet, despite the uncertainty that awaited me beyond the apartment building’s confines, one thing was crystal clear—I would do whatever it took to give my child a chance at a life unmarred by the sins of their parents. With every step that carried me closer to the street, my resolve hardened into an armor of maternal instinct and sheer willpower.

My mind raced, plotting routes and contingencies, while my heart hammered a staccato rhythm against my ribs. There was no room for error, no second chances. This was it—the moment where I reclaimed our lives or lost everything.

I stepped out of the building, the darkness swallowing me whole. Each step away from the place I’d called a temporary haven was a step toward an uncertain future. But as I vanished into the night, I clung to a single truth: I was Jade Bentley, and I would carve a new path for us—one where my child could thrive, free from the sins of our past.

At the same time, though, I knew there was only one place for me to go.

Home.

Chapter Six: Jade

Snowflakes swirled around the lonely bus bay at Central Station, where I stood, my breath fogging in the frigid air. The harsh winter night seemed to press against the glass walls of the station, seeking entrance but kept at bay by the warmth within. Here I was, Jade Bentley, a woman whose life had become as unpredictable as the swirling patterns of ice outside.

I pulled out my phone with hands that betrayed a slight tremor, not from the cold, but from the anxiety that gnawed at my insides. My thumb hovered over the contact list, and with a hesitant tap, I dialed the one number that linked me back to a life before chaos took the reins—Mom.

“Hey, Mom,” I started, my voice a hushed whisper amongst the symphony of idling engines and the occasional scuff of heavy boots on salted concrete. “Yeah, it’s me. No, no, everything’s... Look, I need to leave the city. Now.” My words tumbled out, brisk and fragmented like the brittle winter branches against the station windows.

The noise of a distant siren sliced through the stillness of the night, a stark reminder of the city that never sleeps—even when it becomes your own personal nightmare. My heart raced, yet I held onto the semblance of composure I was known for. There was no room for panic—not when every decision mattered.

“Thanks, Mom. Yeah, I’ll... I’ll keep you posted.” I ended the call, my fingers tightening around the cold metal of my phone as if it were a lifeline. A deep breath did little to steady the tremble that had taken residence in my bones, but it was time to move, time to think about what’s next.

My thoughts were already consumed by the road ahead. The road out of Dante Moretti’s New York City—and hopefully, toward something that resembled peace.

But first, I needed to get prepared.

The ATM’s screen flickered in the dimly lit corner of the bus terminal, a beacon of false security as I keyed in my PIN. It was a risk every time I used my card; Dante had resources, and it wouldn’t take much for him to track my transactions. He’d likely already flagged my accounts, watching for any movement.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath as the machine whirred, dispensing cash that felt like both freedom and a tightrope walking over an abyss. It spat out a couple of crisp bills before flashing an infuriating message: “Daily withdrawal limit reached.” It wasn’t nearly enough; it was never enough when you were trying to outrun a past that clung to you like a second skin.

“Damn it,” I hissed, snatching the money from the slot. Every cell in my body urged me to flee, to disappear into the night withno trail to follow. But the raw reality of my situation settled in—cash was king now, and I was practically a pauper.

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