Chapter 8
The retreat through the sprawling, brilliantly lit estate gardens was terrifyingly tense. Grace’s mother kept herself positioned between her sobbing daughter and the advancing relatives. The bright, natural colors of the blooming hydrangeas and the pristine green lawns offered a stark, surreal contrast to the desperate chase unfolding.
"Security! Get out here!" Sabrina screamed, her voice echoing off the high stone walls of the mansion.
Grace’s mother knew she only had minutes before the estate’s private guards descended upon them. She pushed through the heavy wooden gate, dragging Grace swiftly down the paved driveway toward where her battered sedan was parked among the luxury vehicles of the party guests.
"Keep moving, Grace. Don't look back," she urged, her work shoes slapping against the asphalt.
She reached the car, fumbled for her keys with shaking hands, and unlocked the doors. "Get in the back. Get down on the floorboards and stay there."
Grace scrambled into the back seat, her ruined hair falling into her tear-filled eyes, completely terrified.
Grace’s mother threw herself into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut and hitting the central lock button just as Sabrina and Grandmother rounded the corner of the driveway. Sabrina was sprinting, her floral blouse flapping, a look of unhinged, predatory panic on her rosy face.
The engine roared to life. Grace’s mother threw the car into reverse, tires screeching loudly on the expensive pavement as she backed out of the parking spot.
Sabrina reached the car, slamming her fists violently against the driver's side window.
"Give it to me! You don't know what you're doing!" Sabrina shrieked through the glass, her face contorted in rage. "I will ruin your life! I will have you fired from the hospital!"
Grace’s mother ignored the screaming woman. She shifted into drive and slammed her foot on the gas. The sedan surged forward, forcing Sabrina to jump back to avoid being run over. The car accelerated down the long, winding driveway.
Ahead, near the massive iron security gates, two men in dark suits were rushing out of the guardhouse, alerted by Bella. They began to manually push the heavy gates closed.
"Hold on, Grace!" her mother yelled.
She didn't hit the brakes. She aimed the heavy sedan directly for the narrowing gap between the closing iron gates. The car shot through the opening with only inches to spare, the side mirror clipping the iron bars with a loud, metallic crack that sent the mirror spinning into the street.
They burst out onto the public road, leaving the estate and the screaming relatives behind. Grace’s mother didn't slow down until they were miles away, entirely lost in the traffic of the bustling American suburbs.
Her hands were shaking so violently she had to pull the car into an empty strip mall parking lot. She threw it in park and let out a massive, shuddering breath, resting her forehead against the steering wheel.
"Mommy?" Grace asked softly from the back seat, slowly sitting up. "Are we safe?"
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"Yes, baby," her mother breathed, turning around to look at the eleven-year-old. "We are safe. They can't hurt you anymore."
She reached over to the passenger seat, her eyes locking onto the digital tablet resting there. The device felt heavy, practically radiating a dark, dangerous energy in the bright sunlight of the car. She had to know what she was holding.
