CHAPTER 4: THE UNSEEN PREPARATION
1269 Words
The news of the twins was a razor blade disguised as a miracle. It didn't just cement Ariel's decision to leave; it imposed a terrifying deadline. Henry wouldn't wait long to "manage" his liabilities, and now, those liabilities were multiplying inside her.
That night, Noel slept soundly beside her, his arm draped possessively over her waist, a pose that used to feel protective and now felt like a chain. Ariel lay wide awake, her body already attuned to the subtle, frantic demands of the two tiny lives she carried. The morning sickness, which had confirmed her pregnancy, was a persistent, cruel irony: the proof of her greatest joy was also the mechanism that might expose her greatest danger.
In the pre-dawn hours, Ariel slipped out of bed, retreating to the small, private sitting room attached to their suite. She grabbed her burner phone—a cheap, untraceable device she used only for her mother.
She called Betty White.
“Mama, it’s me. Don’t use my name. Don’t ask questions. Just listen.” Ariel’s voice was a tight, controlled whisper, laced with a fear Betty immediately recognized.
Ariel relayed the minimum details—the discovery of the financial file, Henry’s escalating hostility, and the cold confirmation that he considered her a "liability" to be managed. She hesitated, then choked out the final, terrible piece of news.
“I’m pregnant, Mama. With two. Twins.”
The line was silent for a long moment, then Betty’s voice came back, firm and steady, stripped of all her usual light humor. “We move now, honey. Today, if possible. The stakes are too high. Henry won’t stop at threats now. He will act.”
Betty, a woman who had spent her life navigating the realities of bills and bad luck, was immediately practical. “You need a new history, Ariel. A new name, a new place where the Anderson network can’t track status or wealth. I’ll liquidate my retirement savings—it’s not much, but it’s a start. We’ll say you’re a distant cousin who needed a clean break.”
“The twins, Mama. When they’re born, they’ll look like him. People will ask.”
“Then we give them a dead father, honey. A good man who died before they were born. Someone who loved you, but wasn’t part of that mess.” Betty paused. “We need a neutral zone. Somewhere coastal, quiet. I know of a sleepy little town where the only currency is coffee and kindness. I'll get us a rental cottage tomorrow, first thing.”
Ariel felt a profound gratitude for her mother’s rock-solid strength. Betty wasn't just providing logistics; she was providing an escape route for Ariel’s soul.
The next forty-eight hours were a relentless exercise in emotional manipulation and physical endurance. Ariel was constantly nauseous, constantly terrified, and constantly smiling.
Noel, energized by the merger and determined to make amends for the tension caused by his father, was overflowing with affection.
“You’re still pale, my love. Seriously,” he insisted one afternoon, gently pulling her face toward the sunlight filtering through the window. He ran a worried hand over her forehead. “The fatigue, the nausea you mentioned—it’s not just a cold. I’m calling Dr. Chen.”
Panic flared in Ariel’s chest. A visit from Dr. Chen—the Anderson family physician—was unthinkable. He was bound by Henry's confidentiality agreements, and he would instantly recognize the signs of pregnancy.
“Noel, please, no doctors,” Ariel pleaded, injecting a fragile, almost hysterical note into her voice. “I hate Dr. Chen. He’s pompous. It’s just stress, truly. If you want to help, just… take me out of here. Take me somewhere completely anonymous. Let me breathe.”
The manipulation was agonizing. She was using his love, his guilt, and his deep-seated desire to protect her against him. Noel immediately bought the distraction.
“You’re right. We need a break. But the ski lodge is too formal. Tell you what—let’s just drive. I’ll block out the next two days. We’ll pick a direction and go. That’s what we used to do when we were first married.”
Ariel managed to steer the conversation away from an immediate road trip, citing her overwhelming "fatigue," but the suggestion gave her an idea. She needed to be out of the manor, in transit, when the final break happened. And she needed to appear vulnerable and alone.
She had to get out of the house now to establish a temporary, untraceable hideout before the final escape.
That evening, under the guise of packing a 'go-bag' for an impromptu road trip with Noel, Ariel was strategic. She took no designer clothes, nothing traceable back to Anderson luxury. She collected her small, private inheritance from her own grandfather—a modest necklace and a few heirloom rings that could be pawned if necessary. She wrapped them in a plain handkerchief and tucked them into a worn, unassuming backpack. She also ensured she had enough cash for several days of travel.
She also took something else.
Noel’s childhood photo album. It was a simple, well-loved book that showed Noel before the weight of the legacy settled on his shoulders—a gap-toothed boy, a mischievous teen, a young man full of fierce, open emotion. It was a brutal piece of sentimentality, but she needed it. She needed proof that the man she was about to destroy with her lie was a man worth saving.
On the third day, Betty called back, her voice low. “It’s set, honey. I’m driving down tonight. I’ll meet you at the old, abandoned motel off the I-95, exit 43. No witnesses. We leave tomorrow morning.”
Ariel knew the time had come. She couldn't walk out the door while Noel was home; he would stop her, or worse, he would immediately be tracked by Henry.
She needed to set the stage for an immediate, irreversible split, and she needed a cover that would convince Henry that she was acting rashly, out of weakness.
She waited until Noel was called into a late-night emergency board meeting—a perfect, traceable alibi. She prepared her final act: the letter of abandonment.
She didn't write it in their suite. She walked down to Henry's study, sitting at his immense, imposing desk, using his stationary. She wrote the words that would rip her husband's heart out and secure her children's future, tears blurring her vision as she forced the hateful words onto the page.
“Noel, I can’t do this life. It’s too much. The pressure, your father, the expectations… I am leaving you. I am not cut out for this world. Please, do not look for me. I am gone.”
She deliberately left it on his pillow, placed so he couldn't miss it. Next to it, she left her wedding ring. The gold was heavy, hot against her fingers. It felt like breaking a vow, but in truth, it felt like keeping the only vow that mattered: the one to her children.
Ariel quietly slipped out the back door of the manor, where a simple, anonymous car Betty had arranged was waiting. She didn't look back. She didn't let herself pause. She knew that any moment of hesitation would cost her everything.
She was gone. Now, she just had to survive the consequences of the terrible lie she had left behind.
- Writer
