Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CLAIRE
One month later and my world looks entirely different. Freya is nearly twelve weeks old now, round-cheeked, soft-haired, and obsessed with staring at ceiling fans as if they’re constellations.
Grace has slipped into motherhood like she was born for it, and she moves with this serene glow that makes the entire room feel safer.
I spend most of my days near her, typing orders for the bookstore from her couch while she rocks Freya and tells me breastfeeding horror stories that make us both giggle.
But on the days I’m not here, I’m with Erik. Because Erik has given me a new kind of sanctuary. A little Corner in his office at Halvorsen Corp. There’s a soft carpet and a lavender beanbag, small art supplies, a plush otter, and a little white shelf labeled “Claire’s Space.”
Erik made it with his hands and painted it himself. He told the entire executive team that anyone who mocked it would be “reassigned to Antarctica.”
He wasn’t joking. Every time I sit there, knees tucked under me, coloring while he works, I feel the safest I’ve ever felt. My Daddy makes me feel safe.
My heart warms every time I say it now. Daddy. The word began in a hospital bed, shaken loose from a place of fear. The word that has grown into something tender and chosen.
Today, I’m sitting in his office corner, typing up online orders while humming softly. Erik glances at me every few minutes, like he still can’t believe I’m actually here. Like he still expects me to disappear.
ERIK
Time hasn’t eased the memories. Her oversized breasts strapped into that machine. The faint chemical smell of sedation floating off her like smoke. There are nights when I still wake up shaking. And then Claire shifts closer to me, hand pressing over my heart, and whispers, “Daddy, I’m here.”
She anchors me. Just like I anchor her. Healing isn’t a straight line, Dr. Alvarez keeps saying. It spirals. It circles. It revisits old wounds until the body finally believes the danger is gone.
So I added another little Corner. This one in our loft. Soft blankets, a reading nook, soft fairy lights, and a pillow shaped like a sunflower.
She crawls into it whenever her chest begins to tighten, and I sit beside her until the tremors fade. Some days she sits in my lap while she pumps, quietly, calmly, with no shame at all.
We chose a silent portable pump. No tube or straps, just softness that eases that internal tension. And I will always give her what she needs.
CLAIRE
Grace’s front door flies open as I arrive for our weekly lunch visit. “Claire!” Grace grins. “Get in here. Freya just passed a monumental poop, and I refuse to face the aftermath alone.”
I burst out laughing. “On my way.” Inside, Sven is making faces at baby Freya while Leander wipes down the counters like a very compulsive raccoon. And hovering near the hallway is the new cousin, Leander's and Sven’s older brother, Anders.
He’s twenty-one, has bright blond hair and piercing blue eyes, and is built like someone who lifts refrigerators for fun.
“Hi, Claire,” Anders says shyly, raising a hand. “I stocked all the new manga you ordered for the shop. And, uh, your online inventory is updated.”
“Oh! Thank you.” I smile. “You’re settling into the rotation nicely.”
He blushes a deep crimson. “I’m trying.”
Grace whispers behind me, “He’s adorable.”
I whisper back, “He’s a golden retriever in human form," and the two of us giggle hysterically together.
ERIK
Later that day, I pick Claire up to take her to meet with the investigative team.
The aftermath of the raid has been… staggering. FBI. Texas Rangers. Human Trafficking Task Force. HPD Special Investigations.
They uncovered four other women on-site, one lactating, two in hormonal induction cycles, and one early pregnancy confirmed through forced artificial insemination prep.
Claire was the “premium specimen.” My stomach burns just thinking about it. Authorities haven’t located Dr. Rhys. Because Dr. Rhys isn’t his real name.
He’s a ghost. A surgeon who’s changed identities three times. A man who treats women like currency. And I will find him. I don’t care if it takes years.
CLAIRE
We finish giving our final victim impact statements, and as we walk to the car, Erik gently places a hand on my back.
“Baby,” he says softly, “are you okay?”
I nod. “I… yeah. I think so. It felt rewarding to speak, to answer their questions, and to learn how the investigation is going.”
He studies my face like he’s memorizing every line. And then I feel my heart push forward, like it’s been waiting for the right moment.
“Daddy?” I whisper. His brows lift, warm and attentive.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
I take a tiny breath. “I think… I’m ready.”
He stills.
“Ready for what, baby?”
“For us to try,” I whisper. “For a baby. For real. With you.”
His breath leaves him like he’s been punched. I have a sense that his response is not from fear but with emotion so intense it borders on trepidation. In truth, I feel all of that and more knowing what a major milestone this would be for us both.
“Baby girl,” he murmurs, cupping my cheek. “Are you sure? I don’t want you rushing because of what they did to you.”
“I’m not rushing,” I whisper. “I’m choosing.” My throat thickens. “Daddy, you’re my safe place. My home.And I want to build something beautiful after everything they tried to take from me.”
He pulls me into his arms. Tight. Protective. “Then we’ll try,” he murmurs into my hair. “But only at your pace. Your rhythm. Your timing. You’re in control of this, sweetheart.”
And for the first time since my rescue, I feel whole.
LEIF
At the family dinner later that evening, I catch Mara watching Claire and Erik with an expression I can’t quite name.
Longing. Hope. Curiosity.
“Hey,” I murmur, stepping beside her.
She startles slightly. “Sorry, I was just…”
“Looking,” I finish gently. “It’s okay.” She nods, fingers twisting together.
“Do you think healing like that is possible? After something so awful?”
I glance at Claire, curled in Erik’s lap, head tucked against his chest, smiling softly as she watches Freya gurgle on a play mat.
Then back at Mara. “Yeah,” I say. “I think it is. And you’ll get there. You’ve been through something hardly anyone else has, and I’m here by your side.”
She breathes out. “Thank you, I’m trying.”
I grin. Slow. Deliberate. “You’re amazing, little bunny.” Her cheeks turn pink.
CLAIRE
Later that night, curled against Erik in our bed, I whisper, “Daddy?”
“Mmm?”
“I’m really ready.” His arms slide around me, strong and warm.
“Then we’ll start trying whenever you want, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “But tonight?” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Tonight, we just rest. You’ve earned peace.”
I fall asleep in his arms. Hope is blooming, soft and warm inside my body.