Chapter 428

“If she is,” Dosha hissed, leaning forward in her chair, “if that little tramp is carrying a Koch heir — I will make sure it never takes its first breath. Do you hear me? I will cut it out of her myself.”

A chill ran down Jeannine’s spine. She knew it was no idle threat.

“Get them out,” Jeannine ordered the guards.

As the guards escorted the screaming women away, Jeannine pulled out her phone. Her hand was shaking.

She had to move Eliza. Tonight.

Eliza woke in a private room. The lights were dim.

She sat up, her head swimming. Her hand went instantly to her stomach.

“It’s still there,” a voice said from the shadows.

Jeannine stepped into the light. She looked tired.

“You know?” Eliza whispered.

“I know everything,” Jeannine said. “I saw the report before I shredded it.”

Eliza swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Does Dallas know?”

Jeannine sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Eliza with a gravity she had never shown before.

“That depends on you, Eliza.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dosha Norton was just here. She threatened to kill your baby.”

Eliza gasped, her hands moving protectively over her womb.

“And Dallas.” Jeannine paused, choosing her words carefully. “Dallas is unstable. He believes he is cursed. If he finds out about this child, he will think he has doomed it. He might do something rash to save you from the burden.”

Eliza nodded slowly. It made sense — it fit with everything Dallas had been doing. Pushing her away. Calling himself a monster.

“So what do I do?” Eliza asked, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t lose this baby, Jeannine. It’s the only piece of him I’ll have left.”

“Then you have to disappear,” Jeannine said. “You have to leave New York. Leave Dallas. Leave everything.”

“Run away?”

“Not run away. Go into hiding. Until the baby is born. Until Dallas has dealt with Dosha. Until it’s safe.”

Eliza looked out the window at the rain-streaked glass. Leave Dallas. While he was dying.

But if she stayed, she risked his child.

“Okay,” Eliza whispered. “I’ll go.”

Eliza was packing the few things she had into a small duffel bag Jeannine had provided when the door to her room clicked open. It wasn’t the soft entry of a nurse — it was the quiet, deliberate sound of a matriarch with one final piece of business.

Jeannine entered and closed the door behind her. She was holding a thick manila envelope. Her face was grim, etched with a sorrow that seemed ancient.

“There is one last thing,” Jeannine said, her voice low.

Eliza paused, a silk blouse clutched in her hand. “What is it?”

Jeannine laid the envelope on the bed. “Divorce papers.”

The words landed like stones in the quiet room. Eliza stared at the envelope as if it were a snake.

“But — we’re already divorced,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

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