Chapter 8 Told Sarah #2
“Then I make sure there is no baby.”
My voice didn’t waver this time.
“Because there is no world , none , where I carry a child for nine months and hand it over to a man like him.
The room went quiet again.
But this silence felt different.
Not shocked.
Not horrified.
Focused.
Resolved.
And somewhere deep in the back of my mind, a colder truth settled into place.
I wasn’t planning to beat the devil.
I was planning to out-negotiate him.
I stared at my phone for ten full minutes.
My thumb hovered over her name like pressing it would detonate something irreversible. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat , a frantic, uneven rhythm that made my fingers tremble.
I felt like a liar before I’d even opened my mouth.
When the call finally connected, the sound of my mother’s voice hit me like a punch to the chest.
“Isabella? Honey? Is everything okay? It’s late for a school night.”
A dry, aching smile tugged at my lips.
“It’s summer break, Mom. Remember? No school. No textbooks. No exams. I’m allowed to stay up past midnight now.”
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of my window. Below me, New York pulsed , neon lights, honking taxis, people rushing toward futures that still belonged to them.
I no longer felt like one of them.
To everyone else, it was just another humid Monday night.
To me, it was the first night of becoming a ghost.
“I just… wanted to hear your voice,” I whispered.
“You sound tired, Bella. Are you working too many shifts again?” Concern sharpened her tone. “I told you I can try to find something part-time. Even just for groceries , ”
“No.” I cut her off too quickly. My heart squeezed. “No, Mom. The doctor said you need to focus on recovery. That’s it. I’ve got everything handled. I always do.”
I listened to her breathing , fragile, uneven. The quiet rhythm of someone who had survived something brutal and was still learning how to exist afterward.
“How are you today?” I asked gently. “Really. Are the shadows staying where they belong?”
There was a pause.
“The shadows are behaving,” she said softly. I could hear the small, careful smile in her voice. The kind that might break if touched too hard. “I took my medication on time. I even made dinner. Pasta. The way your father liked it.”
My throat tightened.
“I’m not seeing things that aren’t there anymore,” she continued. “The static in the back of my head… it’s quieter today.”
I closed my eyes and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“That’s amazing, Mom. I’m so proud of you.”
“But the nights…” Her voice thinned. “The nights are still hard. When the sun goes down, the house feels too big. The nightmares find me. I wake up reaching for him and…” She swallowed. “There’s nothing there. Just cold sheets.”
My hand flattened against the window.
“I know,” I whispered. “I know it’s hard.”
New York blurred in my vision.
“But you’re fighting. And that’s what matters. I’m with you. Even when I’m not physically there, I’m with you. Two more years of school, and I’ll come home. We’ll build something again. A real life.”
“I’m so sorry, Isabella,” she broke, a quiet sob slipping through. “I’m supposed to be the mother. I’m supposed to protect you. Instead, you’re carrying everything. Paying bills. Managing the world. I turned you into a parent before you ever got to just be a girl.”
“Mom.” My voice firmed. Protective. Steady even when I wasn’t. “You don’t apologize for being sick. Ever. We’re a team. Your job is staying healthy. That’s it. I’ll handle the rest. I’d do it a thousand times if it keeps you safe.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve everything.”
The words left my mouth easily.
The truth behind them burned.
I took another breath. This was the part.
“Mom… I’ve made some changes. I’m moving for a new job.”
Her breathing stilled on the other end.
“A big one,” I added. “It’s going to pay off everything. Dad’s debt. Every cent. We won’t have to look over our shoulders anymore.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Not confused.
“Isabella...” her voice was trembling, the fragile peace we’d built starting to fracture. “What kind of job pays off a debt that big? Did they find us? Did those men come to you? Tell me the truth, Isabella!”
“No one came to me, Mom,” I lied, the words tasting like copper and ash in my mouth. “It’s a corporate position. High-level. But I’ll be busy, and I might not be able to call every night. Don’t be scared if I’m harder to reach , it’s just a lot of responsibility.”
“Isabella, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, the paranoia I fought so hard to suppress starting to leak back into her tone. “You’re sounding like your father did right before... before everything went dark. He used to say everything was taken care of, too.”
“I’m not like Dad,” I snapped, then immediately softened my voice, hating the bite in my tone.
“I’m not taking risks, Mom. I’m closing the book. I’m ending the story he started so we can start a new one. By this time next year, we’ll be free. Truly free. No more cashier’s checks. No more ghosts. I just need you to stay strong for me. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try,” she sobbed. “I’ll try so hard.”
I hung up before the sound of her breaking could shatter what was left of my resolve.
The phone slipped from my hand, bouncing uselessly onto the duvet.
I felt like a monster, a hollowed-out version of the daughter she thought I was.
Lying to her was becoming a second language, but the truth was a luxury I couldn’t afford , not when her safety was the currency I was using to pay for it.
I stood up and walked to the mirror, wiping the salt from my face. Tomorrow morning, I had to finalize the “Womb Clause” and negotiate a payout for a failed pregnancy. I had to look like a cold-blooded negotiator, not a girl who had just broken her mother’s heart to save her life.
But there was another problem.
The Alexander problem.
How was I supposed to live in that house and not get pregnant?
My body was already betraying me. One touch from him and my thoughts dissolved into static. He carried control the way other men carried cologne , effortlessly, intentionally. You could tell just by the way he moved that he understood power in every form.
And I knew , with a terrifying clarity , that desire would not be my ally.
I couldn’t simply demand boundaries. The moment I showed resistance, he’d know I was sabotaging the deal.
So how did I protect myself without exposing my strategy?
Some silent prevention. Some invisible line of defense.
I didn’t know the answer yet.
But I knew one thing with a certainty that settled deep in my bones:
There was no universe where I carried his child.
No signature. No clause. No threat disguised as a contract could override that instinct.
I picked up my phone again. The clock felt like it was racing ahead of me. If I hesitated, I’d lose my nerve.
I typed before I could second-guess myself.
Isabella: I want to go over the contract together before I sign anything. Tomorrow. 9:00 a.m. Your office.
The reply came instantly.
As if he’d been waiting.