Claimed By Four Billionaires

Chapter 3: Escape

Chapter 3: Escape

(Roxana's POV)

After sunset, the last ray of light disappears into the shadows of the trees. On the worn street, I run frantically, my footsteps splashing through puddles.

The fabric clings to my legs, heavy with dirty water. I run desperately, like a prisoner escaping captivity.

My lungs burn with each ragged breath. Behind me, I can still hear Victor's voice echoing in my mind, feel his hands on my skin.

I am Roxana Flora, daughter of a prostitute who worked the streets of Oakhaven, a small town in Pennsylvania. The place is perpetually damp, with sycamore trees lining the narrow alleys and walls plastered with advertisements for treating sexually transmitted diseases.

Heavily made-up women stand in front of small dark rooms waiting for clients. The man, full and satisfied, picked and chose a few times, and when he found one he liked, he pushed her into the room. He pulled down his pants and shoved his d**k into her p***y, which had been f****d countless times.

My mother was no exception, and I had seen all kinds of men enter her room, fat and thin, old and ugly.My family lived in the tenement building above the small dark room where my mother worked.

As a child, I didn't understand what "w***e's daughter" meant. The other kids would whisper it behind my back, their voices dripping with disgust.

But later I realized it was the lowest possible status. Lower than dirt, lower than the rats that scurried through our walls.

My mother insisted I study, but when I was seventeen, I dropped out of school because she fell ill. On that day, I wrote in my diary: "Life is like walking in a pitch-black alley without light. Every helping hand has ulterior motives, wanting to drag her into the swamp, but she will never give in."

During the two years my mother was sick, I refused countless ill-intentioned hands and borrowed massive debts. Everyone around said how good Victor Stone was.

"He helped pay off her debts," they whispered. "Let her mother be buried with dignity."

"And now he even works with Marcus Thorne from Kensington, Philadelphia, who has government connections." But I firmly refused to be picked and chosen by anyone.

I would rather die than become another man's property. I would rather starve than sell my soul.

Now I run toward Oakhaven Train Station, my only chance at freedom. Before he wakes up.

I had to seize this only opportunity. The memory of his hands on me, his breath on my neck, makes me run faster.

At the last intersection, someone grabs my wrist. I spin around, ready to fight, but it's Chloe Evans, my high school classmate.

"Roxy!" she gasps, her face flushed from running. "I've been waiting for you at here all along."

She presses a handful of bus tickets into my palm. "I bought all the bus tickets for tonight. Pick the nearest departure and board immediately after entering the station."

My hands shake as I look at the tickets. "Chloe, how did you know?"

"I saw Victor's car at your place earlier. I knew something was wrong." Her eyes are fierce with determination.

My tears flowed involuntarily. Chloe was one of the few girls who showed me kindness, my best friend.

"The offer arrived," she says breathlessly. "It's from Columbia University's Literature department."

My heart stops. That's our dream school！

Chloe, who loved modern literature, wanted to study English Literature. I, who wanted to make money, planned to study finance.

But all dreams died when I dropped out of school. At seventeen, I couldn't escape this town.

"But at eighteen, you can now," Chloe says, as if reading my thoughts. "This is your chance, Roxana."

Tears blur my vision. "I can't afford it. I have nothing."

"You have everything," she insists. "You have your brain, your determination. You'll find a way."

When we part, I tearfully promise Chloe: "I will definitely find a way to continue my education!" I would not leave my fate in others' hands.

She shouted loudly: "You must work hard, my only friend."

I turn and run toward the train station entrance. My ankle throbs from where I twisted it escaping Victor's house.

After entering the train station, I learn that the train to Aspen, Colorado will close its doors in five minutes. The ticket checker, a young man with kind eyes, looks at my torn dress and muddy appearance.

"Miss, are you alright?" he asks.

"Please," I gasp. "I need to get on that."

He nods and waves me through. I push through the crowd, desperate to reach the platform.

Just as I'm about to go downstairs, I suddenly hear Victor's shouts. "Roxana! Where are you, b***h?"

He has already chased to the station. His eyes are dark and sinister, blood seeping from his forehead where I hit him with the lamp.

He looks even more terrifying now, like a wounded animal. His shirt is torn, his face twisted with rage.

In the critical moment, I pull out the wad of cash from my pocket - from Victor's. I throw it into the air.

"This money is real!" someone shouts from the crowd.

They swarm forward, creating an impenetrable mass of grasping hands and pushing bodies. Victor curses as he jumps over the barrier to chase me.

I fall on the stairs, my ankle giving out completely. Despite the shooting pain, I continue to stumble forward.

Each step sends agony up my leg, but I don't stop. I can't stop.

(Victor's POV)

"Roxana, come back with me." My voice echoes through the station, causing people to turn and stare.

"You think you can get away? Even if you get on the bus, I'll still drag you back." The blood from my forehead drips into my eyes, but I don't care.

"Regret not killing me, don't you? If you had been braver, you should have finished me off with one blow." I push through the crowd, my hands reaching for her.

She's so close I can almost touch her red dress. "If you don't stop, I'll tie you up and f**k you until you call me daddy."

(Roxana's POV)

Just then, the train sounds its door-closing warning. A sharp beep that cuts through the chaos like salvation.

I seize the opportunity and rush toward the door. My ankle screams in protest, but adrenaline carries me forward.

I slip inside at the last second, Victor frantically pounds on the door from outside.

He stares at me through the glass with clenched teeth, cursing viciously. His fists leave bloody smears on the window.

But I smile at him. This is the first genuine smile from my heart in eighteen years.

"Goodbye forever, Victor."