TRAPPED IN VOWS

Chapter Four

Shortly after the officer left, they realized that it was just a routine check and the police were not there for anyone in particular.

Through the silent roadways, the bus rumbled.

Lillian and George sat beside each other in the dim light of the overhead lights, their bodies pressed together by need and an inability to communicate.

They were silent for a time.

Lillian laid her head against the cool windowpane and used her fingers to draw designs on the misty glass. Even though there was no longer any immediate danger, her heart continued to race.

George was sitting stiffly beside her, his fists locked in his lap, as she turned to face him. His jaw was clenched as he gazed straight ahead.

She put her fingers through his and sought for his hand.

His grip was solid, yet his body remained rigid.

"You're overthinking it," she said.

He shook his head and let out a hard exhalation.

The fact that we actually succeeded in doing this is astounding.

A faint, weary smile came to her face.

His thumb brushed absentmindedly over the back of her hand. “They’re going to look for us.”

She nodded. I know.

Your uncle won’t let this go easily.

Her throat tightened. I know that too.

George hesitated, then turned to face her fully, his dark eyes searching for hers. Do you regret it?

Lillian inhaled sharply. Regret? The word felt too heavy, too final.

No. She squeezed his hand. Not for a second.

His face softened in some way. He leaned back against the seat and let out a breath for the first time since they got on the bus.

After a long night of travel, they reached a small city that neither of them had ever been to before in the morning.

George nudged Lillian awake, his voice low. We are here!

She wiped her eyes and blinked drowsily.

As soon as they got off the bus, the chilly morning air woke them up. The city was still asleep, and the streets were silent.

George combed his hair with his hand. We need to find somewhere safe.

Lillian nodded. We will.

They walked in silence for a few blocks, aimless but determined. George stopped suddenly.

Following his eyes, Lillian noticed a little, dilapidated motel sandwiched between two bigger structures. Above the entrance, a "VACANCY" sign buzzed and flickered.

They stepped inside.

The receptionist barely glanced at them as George slid the cash over to him.

One night, he said.

The man grunted, handing him the key. Second floor, room five.

The room was excellent; it was large enough to accommodate a dresser and a bed. The walls were a vivid beige color.

They were actually alone for the first time.

Lillian raked a hand through her hair while perched on the bed's edge. "We really did it," she whispered.

George remained standing, watching her.

Tension had been building between them for days and for weeks. The stolen glances, the desperate touches, the emotions which they had not been able to fully express.

Now, there was nothing holding them back. No walls, no interruptions, no fear.

George took a step closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. She stood up and drew the distance between them.

As if he were struggling with something inside of him, she could hear his breathing changing and saw his muscles stiffening.

She whispered, "I'm here for you, with you."

His hands twisted in her hair as he reached for her, hungry and desperate, and kissed her passionately.

The room swirled around them as they fell back against the bed, bodies intertwined, hearts pounding.

They had lost everything. But at that moment, they found each other.

It had been nearly three weeks since Lillian disappeared without a trace. Mr. Rogers Smith’s frustration had reached a boiling point. His niece, the girl he had arranged for Clement to marry, was nowhere to be found.

In those three weeks, he had done everything within his power to locate her. The city of New York was vast, a maze of neighborhoods and hidden pockets, but with enough money and influence, finding someone wasn’t impossible.

Clement sat across from Rogers in a quiet, dimly lit office in midtown Manhattan, glancing through lists of private investigators and surveillance teams.

He hadn’t spoken a word since he entered. His silence spoke volumes. Though he had more at stake, his frustration was similar to that of his uncle, Mr. Alex.

Mr. Rogers Smith spoke calmly but impatiently. It's only a matter of time. She can’t hide forever.

The search had escalated from simply looking for Lillian to interrogating friends, associates, and anyone who might have even the slightest clue.

It wasn’t long before Mr. Rogers Smith turned to Isabelle, Lillian’s close friend, knowing that there was a chance she might know where Lillian had gone.

She was the weak link, the one whose loyalty could be bought.

Isabelle had always been a loyal friend of Lillian. She had shared everything with Lillian, including secrets, heartache, and dreams.

The conversation Mr. Rogers Smith had with her over the phone was brief and straightforward.

Isabelle denied knowing her whereabouts.

Okay, in case you know anyone who knows their whereabouts, I've promised to give the person five thousand dollars, Mr. Rogers Smith said, his voice silky and persuasive.

Isabelle hesitated for a long moment and then dropped the call.

The decision has been made. It was too much to turn down, too much money to walk away from. I wouldn’t be the first person to sell out a friend for a price, Isabelle thought!

It was just about three minutes when she called back. Hello! I just sent you my account details and the address of where Lillian is, Isabelle said…

Mr. Rogers Smith and Clement didn’t waste a second. They had the information they needed.

Mr. Rogers Smith had gone to the police station to report and get the police there while Clement went there before him.

Lillian and George were busy having a chit-chat when they heard a knock!

The quiet motel room reverberated with the faint sound.

George squinted and sprang to his feet, snatching his shirt from the chair. Lillian was standing already. Her hands shaking, she snatched up her purse and hurried to dress.

Who could that be? Lillian whispered, a knot forming in her stomach.

George shook his head. Stay quiet. I will check.

He walked over to the door and peeped through the drapes. His face went pale as he saw Clement standing at the door.

Shit! George muttered under his breath. He grabbed Lillian’s arm. We have to go now!

But it was already too late. The door slammed open before George could react.

George! Clement’s voice was like a whip, sharp and filled with contempt.

Just as she turned back, Lillian saw Clement walk into the room. Anger flashed in his eyes. He glanced at George and then at Lillian, admiring their unkempt appearance.

What on earth is happening here? Clement stepped forward and demanded. Did you truly believe that you could simply flee from me?

Lillian reached for the heavy glass vase on the side table without thinking. She swung it toward Clement, her strength born from pure desperation.

Clement lost consciousness and fell to the ground as the vase shattered against his skull.

There was a spooky silence in the room.

George took the broken vase from Lillian's hand and was about to dispose of it to cover up the evidence; just then, the police arrived and found the broken vase with him and the unconscious body of Clement.

The officers had their hands tight on George's arms and were dragging him away before Lillian could react.

One of them cuffed George's wrists and stated, "You are under arrest."

Lillian’s heart skipped.

“No! "No!” She cried, rushing toward him, but they pulled him out of the room.

As he was being pulled away, George whispered, "I love you."

As the officers moved him, her vision became blurry due to tears. She made an ineffective achievement.

Mr. Rogers Smith stepped into the room, a sickly sweet smile on his face. Lillian, you made a huge error tonight.

Unable to take her gaze off of George's vanishing body, she stood motionless.