Page 28 of A Lie so Dangerous and Fragile

I winced as he held me against the car. He didn’t look like he would let go anytime soon.

“Where is he? Where is my son?!”

10

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Unknown

THREE YEARS AGO

Three weeks of little progress. I had been going out for walks every day, visiting tourist sites, and spending time on the beach, but some days, I lay in bed, crying and drowning in a sea of sadness and heartache. Some days, I wanted someone to hold me and tell me I was doing good and to keep going. Some days, I was tempted to ask Adrian about Tristan. I hated that I still cared. I hated that after everything he’d done to me, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I hated that sometimes, I reminisced about the good moments we shared. I just wanted to erase him from my brain, my heart, and my soul.

I couldn’t trust Vina to tell her what I was battling within me. Any bit of trust I had for anyone close to me was gone. Now, the journey to recovery seemed impossible again, but I stuck to going out. Something inside me just liked it.

I kept myself busy with research about pregnancy, and I had been doing yoga from the little I remembered from my last yoga class for pregnant women. Who knew it’d come in handy one day?

“Funny fact: pregnant women fart and burp a lot in their second trimester. Gross,” I said after reading the fifth article on a website for first moms.

“I guess that makes sense since it’s for two,” I said and logged out of the website. I had been scrolling through the article for almost an hour. I opened Duolingo to continue my Spanish practice.

“Okay, let’s give this a try.Hola, me llamo Chloe. Soy de America, um … me… megusta viajar.” I applauded myself for doing better than yesterday.

“I killed it.” I giggled and pretended to high-five my stomach.

“Do you have hands yet? They must be so tiny,” I whispered, looking down at my stomach. A small bump had started to form.

My phone vibrated, indicating a text. I grabbed my phone and opened the email from the hotel. I was late on a payment.

“Shit,” I sighed and opened my bank account.

I only had one hundred fifty dollars left in my account. I never stopped to make a budget for all my expenses, I spent last week visiting the spa, and it cost a lot. I had been too caught up in my dilemma to think it through. The rest of the money couldn’t buy me a flight ticket home, and I wasn’t ready to go back.

“No, no, no,” I cried, falling back to the bed. “What do I do now?” I grunted.

I could ask for help. Why had I even booked a suite in the first place when I barely used the living room and kitchen?

“Idiot,” I mumbled at myself.

I didn’t even think of the expenses for the baby. I had been thinking of going for an antenatal, but I kept changing my mind. I hoped they took insurance here; I wouldn’t be able to afford the list of things I wanted to buy for the baby, and I needed new painkillers for my migraines that had been torturing me lately.

I’d decided I wanted to keep the baby. We’d become best friends, and the baby was the only one I vented and talked to about everything. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone I connected with, someone who gave me a reason not to quit, but to keep my head up.

“Okay, deep breaths,” I whispered, sitting up and breathing in. “We can figure something out. No negative thoughts.”

I didn’t want to go back to Beverly Hills. I didn’t want my baby anywhere close to the people who had hurt me. I wanted the baby to be happy even if it meant I had to overstay my visit. I could ask Adrian for some money. Vina was already struggling with bills alone.

I reached for my phone to call him but stopped. He had already given me two hundred fifty grand, and I’d promised to pay it back. I rushed out of the bed and grabbed my bag, hoping to find some cash somewhere. I emptied everything on the floor and found a hundred, a fifty, and some one-dollar bills. I opened my purse and gasped in bliss when I found some new cash. I couldn’t remember when I’d put it there.

“Four hundred fifty dollars,” I sighed in relief.

I could only afford one more night here. I could move into another room that wasn’t a suite.

I changed into a dress and left the room to make the payment and ask for a room change. It took a few hours before everything was done, and I found myself in a decent room. I missed the balcony in the suite, but I could stay three more nights here.

“I have to find another place. Maybe rent a room and get a job,” I said and finished a bottle of water.

I changed into a pair of jean shorts and a large graphic T-shirt. I put on a pair of Converse and held my hair back with a scrunchie I’d stolen from Vina.

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