Within thirty minutes, a sleek black Mercedes with tinted windows pulled up to the curb. Within an hour, I was in a luxury apartment somewhere in Virginia—safe, warm, away from prying eyes. Within a week, I was in Zurich.
Alexander had moved with the efficiency of someone used to solving problems. He’d helped me file paperwork for a legal name change, set up new bank accounts under my new identity, created an entire life that had nothing to do with Ravencrest or Garnia or the broken girl I’d been.
And through all of it, he hadn’t asked a single question.
“Why are you doing this?” I’d asked him one night, bewildered by his unconditional kindness. “Why are you helping me? You barely even know me.”
“I know enough,” he’d said simply. “I know you’re brilliant. I know you’re running from something—or someone. And I know that whatever happened, you didn’t deserve it.”
Even when I’d told him I was pregnant—terrified he’d judge me—his response had been immediate and unwavering.
“Then we’ll make sure you and your baby have everything you need.”
He’d never asked about the father. Never pushed me to explain why I’d called him that night, broken, and desperate.
He’d just…been there. A steady, reliable presence when I had nothing and no one else in the world.
I owed him everything.
So, when Crane Internationale had won a bid for an IT company, and he wanted me to head up the new tech subsidiary in Virginia, at least until it found its footing in the industry, I couldn’t say no.
“Mommy, look! That cloud lookslike a dragon!”
A small hand tugged on my sleeve, pulling me sharply back to the present.
I turned to find Adele pressed against the window, her dark brown eyes—so heartbreakingly like her father’s—wide with wonder.
“You’re right, baby.” I set down my champagne glass and leaned over to see. “A very fierce dragon.”
“Do you think dragons are real? Uncle Alexander says maybe they used to be, a long time ago, before people wrote them down in books.”
“Uncle Alexander says a lot of things,” I said with a genuine smile, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.
She looked so much like Dimitri. The same dark hair that fell in soft waves. The same aristocratic bone structure. The same intensity in her gaze when she concentrated on something.
But she had my smile. My stubborn determination. My kindness. And none of the coldness that had marked her father.
Adele was everything good in my life. The reason I’d survived those first horrible months when the bond breaking had nearly killed me—literally. The reason I’d pulled myself together and decided to become someone worthy of being her mother.
“How much longer until we land?” she asked, bouncing slightly in her seat with barely contained excitement.
“About two hours, sweetheart.”
“My teacher says Virginia is a really beautiful state. Is that true, Mama?”
A bitter smile crossed my face before I could stop it, but I forced it into something softer. Virginia held nothing but painful memories for me—ghosts I’d spent five years running from. But I wouldn’t burden my daughter with that darkness.
“It is, dear,” I said simply, brushing her hair back. “It is.”
“I can’t wait to see it!” She pressed her face back against the window, leaving a small nose print on the glass.
I looked out at the landscape far below as the clouds gage way to land, Virginia coming into view with its rolling hills and sprawling cities.
And I felt the old fear trying to claw its way back up my throat.
What if I see him? What if I run into Dimitri at some business function, some pack gathering, some random coffee shop? What if he sees Adele and recognizes himself in her features?
I shook the thoughts away. Estelle Crawford has no connection to Isabella Garrett. I’d made absolutely sure of that.