Chapter 4 - The Escape to the Woods
The garden porch was wrapped in thick, overgrown ivy and faced the dense pine forest behind the estate. Martha brought me a glass of iced water, watching me like a hawk as I sat on the wicker bench, clutching my forehead and making a show of taking slow, deep breaths.
"You really should lie down," Martha said, her eyes darting toward the house where Julian was pacing back and forth inside the library window, talking animatedly on a satellite phone. "Julian is under a lot of pressure, Evelyn. You really shouldn't make things harder for him."
"I just need five minutes alone with Leo, Martha," I whispered weakly. "My stomach is turning. Please... just let me sit in the quiet."
Martha hesitated, looking back at the house. "Five minutes. No more. I’ll go tell Julian to have Mr. Vance wait in the parlor when he arrives."
The moment Martha’s heels clicked back inside the house and the heavy French doors swung shut, I stood up instantly. My dizziness vanished.
"Leo," I whispered, grabbing his coat from the wicker chair. "Put this on. Now."
"Are we running away, Mommy?" Leo asked, slipping his arms into the sleeves without hesitation.
"We’re going to take a walk in the woods," I said quietly. "We need to find a house near the old timber mill."
I led Leo down the porch steps, keeping our bodies hidden behind the thick rhododendron bushes that lined the perimeter of the lawn. The air outside was freezing, biting at my nose and cheeks, but my blood was burning with adrenaline. We ducked beneath the heavy iron archway that marked the boundary of the formal gardens and plunged directly into the shadow of the pine forest.
The ground was soft, covered in thick layers of pine needles and damp earth that muffled our footsteps. I pulled the gray handkerchief from my pocket, double-checking the handwritten instructions: FIND THE MILL.
"Mommy, look," Leo pointed toward a narrow dirt track that cut through the trees. Deep tire ruts were visible in the mud, leading deeper into the valley. "There’s a path!"
We followed the track, moving as fast as Leo’s small legs could carry him. Every snapped twig behind us made my heart leap into my throat. I knew it wouldn't take Julian long to realize I wasn't coming back to the porch. Ten minutes, at most. Once he saw the empty bench, he would come after us in his SUV or on foot with his estate workers.
After twenty minutes of relentless walking, the dense forest suddenly gave way to a wide, clearing overlooking the dark waters of a mountain lake.
Standing on the edge of the water was the old timber mill—a massive, decaying structure of rusted iron and weathered cedar planks. Its windows were broken, its roof partially collapsed, standing like a giant wooden skeleton against the grey morning sky.
Beside the mill stood a small, rustic stone cottage with smoke curling gently from its stone chimney. Parked in the gravel driveway was an old, beat-up green pickup truck.
"Is someone living there?" Leo asked, holding my hand tightly.
"I hope so," I said.
We hurried down the dirt slope toward the cottage. As we reached the gravel yard, the front wooden door of the cabin swung open with a slow, heavy creak.
A man stepped out onto the porch.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a faded canvas work jacket and heavy boots. His hair was thick and iron-gray, his face weathered by years of mountain wind. But it was his eyes that made me stop dead in my tracks.
They were intense, sharp, and unmistakably familiar.
May you like
He looked down at me, then looked at Leo standing beside me. His expression softened, a deep sigh escaping his lips into the cold air.
"You made it, Evelyn," he said, his voice deep and gravelly—the exact same voice that had whispered to me on the regional bus eighteen hours ago. "I was beginning to think Julian had locked you in the cellar."
