Chapter 5

Vera: POV

Marina whirled around, her phone clattering against the desk as her fingers lost their grip for a split second.

Her carefully composed mask slipped—just for an instant—revealing something cold and calculating before that practiced smile reassembled itself with mechanical precision.

"Vera!" Her voice was too high, too bright. "Darling, you startled me."

I froze in the doorway, the hair on my arms rising as fragments of her conversation echoed in my mind: "...find someone reliable this time..." and "...take care of it permanently..."

"What kind of plan are you talking about?" My mouth was suddenly dry, heart hammering against my ribs.

Marina's laugh tinkled like broken glass as she waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing important, my dear. Just discussing the plot of a thriller movie with Evgeny." Her eyes never quite met mine, instead fixing on a point just above my shoulder.

Her explanation should have been reasonable, but something in her rigid posture, the slight tremor in her manicured fingers, made ice spread through my veins.

"I was thinking of going for a walk," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Would you like to join me?"

"I need to finish organizing some things." Her smile tightened at the corners. "You go ahead."

I nodded and backed away slowly, every instinct screaming danger.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as I retreated, Marina's eyes boring into my back like twin daggers.

The air in the mansion had become thick, suffocating—as if the walls themselves were closing in, conspiring to keep secrets hidden in their shadows.

The evening air hit my face as I stepped outside. Eight-thirty, and Viktor still wasn't home. 'He's with her,' a bitter voice whispered in my mind.

After three years of marriage, his indifference still cut like a knife.

The streets were unnaturally quiet, my footsteps echoing against empty sidewalks.

Shadowy storefronts stood with lights dimmed, as if the entire neighborhood was holding its breath.

A police station's blue lights pulsed in the distance—the only sign of life in this ghostly landscape.

I quickened my pace, my thoughts colliding: Viktor's cruelty this morning, the baby he must never know about, Marina's eerie phone call, Natalia's return.

Lost in these thoughts, I barely noticed as I turned down a narrow alley.

The sudden scrape of footsteps behind me sent ice through my veins. A man materialized from the shadows, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

"Well, well," he slurred, though his eyes remained coldly sober. "If it isn't Mrs. Quinn herself."

I stepped back, feeling brick against my spine. "I don't know who you are, but I suggest you leave me alone."

He laughed, a harsh sound that bounced off the alley walls. "Not just yet, sweetheart."

"What do you want?"

"Just doing a job." He raised the bottle, gripping it by the neck. "Nothing personal."

"Who sent you?"

"Does it matter? Boss said the Quinn wife and her brat need to go." His eyes flickered deliberately to my stomach.

Horror flooded me. He knew about my pregnancy—a secret I'd told no one.

Marina's peculiar phone call earlier, Victor's adamant refusal to accept the child this morning—all these moments resurfaced in my mind... This household grew increasingly terrifying upon reflection. This murder plot couldn't possibly be...

"This is a crime," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "There's a police station nearby."

He sneered, stepping closer. "By the time they find what's left of you, I'll be long gone. No cameras here. No witnesses."

I shoved him hard and broke into a run.

The alley narrowed, ending in a brick wall. Oh my, I was trapped!

I turned to face my attacker as he advanced, bottle raised high, moonlight glinting off the glass.

"Police! Stop right there!"

A uniformed officer appeared at the alley entrance, weapon drawn. My attacker froze, then cursed and dropped the bottle, bolting past the officer in a desperate sprint.

I remained pressed against the wall, watching the stranger approach warily. Police in this city often worked for the cartels. Could this be another trap? Was he working with my attacker?

"Are you hurt, Miss?" His voice was steady as he holstered his weapon, keeping a professional distance.

"No," I managed, still trembling. "Thank you."

"I noticed him following you," he explained, his eyes scanning my face. "You're not from around here."

I tensed further. "Why do you say that?"

"Most locals avoid these alleys after dark." His expression remained unreadable. "Your name?"

"Vera," I answered hesitantly, offering no surname.

He nodded. "You should come to the station to file a report. I can escort you home afterward."

My heart raced. Was this a trap? If he was working with my attacker, going to the station or letting him take me home would be fatal. I needed to test his intentions.

"Officer," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Before we go anywhere, I need a favor."

His expression turned guarded. "What favor?"

"Call this number." I recited Marina's cell. "Tell her I've been hurt and I'm in the alley behind Reforma Avenue."

He frowned. "Why would I do that?"

"Please," I whispered. "My phone is broken."

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. He took out his phone and made the call, his eyes never leaving mine.

I watched carefully as he spoke with Marina, describing the situation exactly as I had asked.

Relief washed over me—if he had been working with my attackers, he wouldn't have made the call or would have signaled something to Marina.

"She's coming immediately," he said after hanging up. "Now will you tell me what this is about?"

I shook my head, now more confident he wasn't involved in the plot against me. "It's better if you don't know. Thank you for your help."

Before he could respond, I turned and disappeared into the maze of side streets. Marina would be rushing to the alley, giving me the precious minutes I needed to escape.

I slipped into the Quinn mansion through the servants' entrance.

Moving silently through darkened halls, I quickly gathered essentials: passport, ID, emergency cash I'd secretly saved, and a few clothes, all packed into a small suitcase.

As I zipped it shut, my wedding photo caught moonlight from the window. Viktor's cold eyes stared back, his arm around my waist possessive rather than loving.

Three years had passed, yet he had never truly loved me; he might even have been contemplating... I should never have married him so impetuously and without reservation.

I left the photo where it stood and fled. The taxi waiting three blocks away took me straight to Benito Juárez International Airport.

Meanwhile, Marina screeched to a halt at the alley behind Reforma Avenue, emerging from her car like a predator.

"Where is she?" she demanded of the officer. "Where's Vera?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he replied. "She was here just a moment ago."

Marina's eyes narrowed to slits. She tried calling Viktor repeatedly, cursing when each call went unanswered. 'That idiot is still with Natalia,' she fumed.

Back at the mansion, she burst through the doors.

"Vera?" Her voice echoed through empty halls.

She rushed to the bedroom, flinging open the door. The closet stood ajar, hangers empty. The drawer where I kept my passport gaped open.

"Damn it!" She slammed her fist against the doorframe.

She stabbed at her phone again, and this time, Viktor answered.

"What is it?" he snapped, restaurant noise audible in the background.

"Vera's gone," Marina said, her voice tight with barely controlled rage. "She's left."

Viktor's response came after a beat of stunned silence, his voice dropping dangerously. "What do you mean? How could she possibly leave?"