Page 61 of The Queen's Serpent

Yet here I am in a small coastal town,free. Free from the worries of my old life, and all the chains that confined me, and kept me a prisoner for so long. Free, not only of the man I loved, but also of the name and dynasty I was born into. Do I miss my old life and my family?Like one misses a severed limb, forever feeling the ghost of the loss.

Despite that loss, I know that this is where I belong. I know that if I contacted my sister or grandmother, another war would escalate, and I just can’t allow that to happen. Despite the amount of pain I’m causing them, by letting them believe that I’m dead, I can’t bring myself to go back to those chains. Is it selfish that I am out here living a new life while my grandmother and sister mourn my death?

Yes, but that is who I am, who I have always been, and despite many things changing and finding my way, that remains a part of me, one I’m no longer critical of. The truth is that IsabellaStratford died in that jungle, attempting to escape her lover’s grasp and her family’s demands. She never made it to that village; she died just like her guide, Francisco, did, consumed by the jungle, an offering to the old gods.

The woman who made it to that jungle village, with three men at gunpoint, is not the same person. That woman met the village elder and was treated for her wounds, and dehydration. She took a blade and sliced open her skin, removing the damaged tracking device her lover had installed in her own arm, as the men stood around and watched her with astonishment.

She forcefully demanded a new identity at gunpoint, and safe passage to a private airport, where she was taken in the dark of night, never to be seen again. Santiago followed through on his promise to get me to the village, and out of the country with a new identity and the means to start a new life. I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to become who I should have always been.

The weak woman who was once broken, traumatized, and a victim of her own failings, I’d like to think, is now gone, replaced with someone who finally has a reason for living. Someone who will never allow another person to own her.

It hasn’t been easy, but once I made it out of the Brazilian jungle and back stateside, I had to decide where to go and how to survive without my family, my trust fund, and all my vices. Although Santiago gave me the means to start a new life, it wasn’t one I was used to. A smirk crosses my lips at the memory of looking at the envelope with currency, and the note he sent with it.

Isabella,

If you are reading this, you have survived by God’s grace. Take that as an indication never to look back. Start a new life far from the one you left in the jungle. There is only pain behindyou and a clean slate in front of you. Use this gift I have given you wisely. Remember your promise, or death will await you.

Santiago.

The currency didn’t last more than the first month, while I lived in the shadows in perpetual fear of someone recognizing me, or realizing I was alive. By the second month, I came to the shocking realization that Santiago wasn’t the only one who gave me a parting gift.

By then, the death of the heiress, Isabella Stratford, at the hands of her captor and lover, Diego Cabano, a ruthless cartel boss, was everywhere. It was on all the news channels and across social media, forcing me to use the meager funds I had left to ensure I could disguise my features.

My hand reaches up and touches my short, pixie platinum blonde haircut, my long, dark locks gone. The brown contact lenses that I wear hide my recognizable sapphire blue eyes. My prim and proper grandmother would have a heart attack if she saw my nose ring, or the tattoos that cover one of my arms. I have even managed to change my accent, hiding my recognizable New York twang. No one passing me by in the street would ever think I could be Isabella.

I now spend my days working at a small coffee shop as a barista, and my nights alone with the memories of those I left behind. I share a two-bedroom apartment with a roommate who doesn’t ask any questions about my past, probably because she, too, is running from hers. It’s a far cry from the riches of Billionaire’s Row at Central Park West, and I wouldn’t change it for all the money in the Stratford coffers.

I chose to come to this small town, where nothing ever changes, and people are happy with their quiet, mundane lives—a town filled with working-class families, little league baseball, and Friday nights spent at the local football stadium. Iremember hearing the fond memories of someone I loved speak of its existence, and how it helped to shape him into who he was. I hope that it can have the same impact on me, and who I desperately want to be.

Diego and my grandmother are still at war. Somehow, he managed to escape that jungle, even after my grandmother sent an army to capture him, and bring me back. Diego retaliated by blowing up a few of her buildings, and sinking her yacht; thank fuck she wasn’t on it at the time. Right now, he’s sitting number one on the world’s most-wanted list. My grandmother placed a billion-dollar bounty on his head, dead or alive.

Am I sad to know that my death didn’t bring with it any sense of peace for either of them?Yes.Grief does funny things to people, and I don’t believe for a second that either one of them has gotten past the anger yet of losing me. I haven’t gotten past the anger of losing myself, even though I know with certainty that this was the only way I could live my life on my terms.

“Annabell? Girl, we have to do something about that tramp stamp.” I look over at my companion and see the look of disgust on her face. I don’t blame her; I wasn’t overly thrilled when I finally caught a glimpse of it in a mirror four months ago. I can’t believe thatassholebranded me with his name, like property. Yet, despite the rage at knowing he did that without my permission, I have yet to remove it.

Some irrational part of me believes it is still a link back to him. A piece of him left on my body as a reminder of the love we once shared, regardless of if it was toxic. It certainly wasn’t the only thing that he forgot to mention.

Three months ago.

“Miss Delburne, ma’am? We have your test results. The reason you have been feeling so tired and unwell isn’t due to infectionas we thought.” The young female doctor at the community clinic gives me a look of deep sympathy, and has my hackles instantly rising.

“I know you said that you had an IUD and couldn’t be pregnant, but we found no evidence of the IUD present when we did the ultrasound. Your bloodwork also confirmed my suspicions. You’re pregnant, Annabell, just under five months along. You had lost so much weight that it wasn’t noticeable.”

I sit there, shocked to my core, not understanding what she is telling me. How can the IUD be missing? They don’t just fall out. She has to be wrong; her tests have to be incorrect. I can’t be pregnant. Then it hit me: the reality of the life I was living. That fucking bastard would have done anything to keep me with him. Even stooping so low as to remove my method of birth control, and impregnate me.

No wonder he couldn’t keep his hands off of me. It was his plan all along to make sure that I would never leave him. He knew I wouldn’t be capable of leaving my child behind, and I’m sure he never planned on letting me take it with me if I left him.

“You have choices, Annabell.”

“No, I really don’t.” The mere thought of this baby inside of me, a piece of Diego and I together, forever intertwined, has me laying my hands on my mostly flat stomach. Joy replaces anger, and the need to nurture and keep it safe fills me. Mine. This child is mine. It is a blessing for a future I never planned on, but somehow, deep inside, I always wanted.

My grandfather Jaxon’s words from long ago enter my mind and, with them, cement my decision. “Fate has a funny way of giving you what you need most without you even knowing it, my beautiful little doll. Trust that what happens in life is meant to be; fate makes no mistakes when it casts its weave. It’s up to you to pull on the correct thread.”

The thread was there for me to pull all along, just waiting until I was strong enough to bear the next part of my journey, and now I am. I will be this baby’s mother, protector, and cheerleader.

I can never let Diego know that this baby exists. He would use it against me as a way to tie me to him forever. I’m sure he never counted on me getting away from him. A love forced, is a love scorned. He will never understand that, and I have no intention of going back to teach him.

Love will fill this baby’s life; I will make sure of it. It will be the two of us against the world, and I’ll give it everything I lacked when I was growing up. It will always know it is wanted, needed, and valued, and I’ll destroy anyone who tries to hurt it. It may never get to know that it is a Stratford, but that won’t stop me from instilling our Stratford strength into it.

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