21. Chapter 21
The humming fluorescent lights do nothing to brighten the drab beige walls of the immigration office. I fidget in the hard plastic chair, my heels tapping an anxious beat against the scuffed linoleum floor.
Gerald”s man shuffles his feet beside me now and then, his expression stony as he monitors me to make sure I don”t do or say anything to cause Gerald concern.
The immigration lawyer Gerald appointed me flanks my other side, but I”m not under any illusion that he”s there for me at all.
My fingers twist the strap of my purse as I glance around. The other immigrants waiting looked just as on edge as I feel. A baby wails while her mother bounces her gently, murmuring in a language I don”t recognize. An elderly man clutches his cane, his rheumy eyes staring blankly ahead.
We”re all here for the same reason—the hope of a better future. My future with Yara depends on this interview going well.
”Alina Petrov?”
I startle at the sound of my name, pulse racing. This is it.
I stand on shaky legs, smooth my skirt, and follow the officer to his desk.
He rifles through my file, his face impassive. I clasp my clammy hands in my lap, trying not to fidget.
After an agonizing silence, he looks up at me over his glasses. ”Your petition seems to be in order. Provided your relationship with Mr. Gerald Cranshaw remains...intact, of course.”
My stomach drops. Gerald.
This isn”t about my merits at all—it”s all about him, and he holds all the cards.
”I understand,” I say softly, my fate crystal clear.
As long as I belong to Gerald, I can stay in America.
I belong to him.
The realization makes my skin crawl.
But if that”s what it takes to keep Yara safe, so be it.
I will find another way, in time.
I stand on shaky legs, thanking the officer politely before I leave.
My steps grow more determined as I walk away, my jaw set.
Gerald won”t control me forever. I just need to be patient.
I push open the bathroom door, grateful for a moment alone to collect myself. The interview has shaken me more than I want to admit.
I lock myself in the farthest stall, leaning back against the door. My breath comes in shaky gasps as the reality of my situation crashes over me.
I”m trapped, bound to Gerald by forces beyond my control. The life I”ve fought so hard to build here could be ripped away in an instant if I step out of line.
Hot, angry tears prick my eyes. After everything I”ve endured, to have my fate resting in that monster”s hands...it isn”t fair.
As I struggle to rein in my emotions, a flyer taped to the back of the stall door catches my eye. ”Need help? Call this number for assistance with domestic violence or human trafficking.”
A bitter laugh escapes my lips. If only it were that simple. Gerald”s tendrils likely run too deep for me to outmaneuver him so easily.
Still...perhaps I owe it to myself and Yara to try. To at least make one desperate grasp for freedom before resigning myself to captivity.
My hand shakes as I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over the keypad. Do I dare?
I hesitate, my finger still poised over the number. If I go through with this, there will be no going back. Gerald”s wrath will be swift and merciless if he discovers I”d tried to break free of his control.
Not just for me, but for my sweet Yara too. She would bear the brunt of his fury because he knows she”s the one way he can truly get at me. The thought makes my heart seize with terror.
As much as I yearn for escape, I know rash action now might only make things worse. Gerald”s influence likely runs deep, even into the very organizations claiming to help people like me.
Calling the number could be walking right into his trap, handing ourselves over and removing the sliver of autonomy we still cling to. The risk is too great.
I lower my phone with a shuddering sigh, tears streaking down my cheeks. The choice to stay is agony, but it”s ironically the only way to keep Yara safe.
For now, at least.
Gerald”s smug confidence in owning me is not unfounded. His tendrils wrap around every aspect of my life, backed by a network of complicity and corruption.
I’m not paranoid enough to think he had the flyer placed their himself as some type of warped test. Or that the first person who answered the line would be complicit.
But the one after that, or the one after that—no, it would only be a matter of time until word got back to him.
But that doesn”t mean I”m giving up. If anything, this only strengthens my resolve to break free, somehow. I”ll bide my time, plan meticulously, and when the moment is right, Yara and I will disappear like ghosts.
Gerald”s days of controlling me are numbered. I just have to be patient and smart.
Wiping my eyes, I emerge from the bathroom, my head held high.
Now the real fight begins.
I steady my breathing as I walk back to the waiting area, each step deliberate. This isn”t the time for panic or despair. I need to be focused, alert.
The fluorescent lights of the immigration office seem harsher now, almost blinding. The hushed conversations around me blur into white noise. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart, keeping time with each click of my heels on the linoleum floor.
I nod politely at the lawyer and Gerald”s goon.
Outwardly, I”m the picture of calm.
Inwardly, my mind races.
They nod back at me and gather their belongings, ready to transport me back to the mansion.
The interview today had been meant to secure our future here. Instead, it has only cemented how precarious our situation really is.
We”re trapped in Gerald”s web, and even the authorities are tangled up in it.
But I refuse to lose hope. Gerald holds all the cards now, but I still have my wits. And I”ll use them to slowly, methodically pick apart the foundations of his control. It will take time. Patience. Sacrifice.
I steel myself for what lies ahead.
For now, I have to play the role Gerald expected. Be obedient. Compliant.
All the while watching, waiting, gathering what I need to make our escape.
Although it may feel like it, this is not the end. It”s only the beginning. The battle lines are drawn, and I won”t stop until I win our freedom.
No matter what it takes.