Chapter 97
Chapter 97:
She retrieved her phone from the armchair and tried to call Dallas, her thumb shaking as she tapped his name. The call wouldn’t connect. Just static. She tried a text. A red Not Delivered warning appeared. She opened a browser. Nothing.
A low hum, almost imperceptible, seemed to emanate from the walls.
A signal jammer.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. This wasn’t a drunken impulse. Anson had planned this. He had isolated her.
She ran to the window, hoping to see the headlights of the security detail Dallas had assigned to shadow her. The driveway was dark. The dense treeline of the Hyde estate swallowed everything.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway again — heavy and uneven. They stopped directly outside her door.
Eliza held her breath and gripped the brass lamp until her knuckles went white. The doorknob jiggled. The chair groaned under the pressure, but it held.
“You can’t hide in there forever, El,” Anson’s voice came through the wood, muffled and slurred. A heavy thud against the wall followed, then the sound of him stumbling away down the hall.
She wasn’t safe. She was trapped in a dead zone with a drunk man who believed he owned her. But she knew the layout of this house better than anyone. Morning would bring the staff — the cook, the cleaner.
𝗠𝗈𝘀𝗍 rеа𝘥 𝘁𝗁іѕ 𝘄𝘦ek o𝘯 𝘨а𝗅𝘯𝗈𝘃еlѕ.𝗰𝗼𝘮
Witnesses.
Eliza didn’t sleep. She sat with her back against the wall farthest from the door, the lamp in her lap, watching the handle and counting the seconds until sunrise.
The first grey light of dawn filtered through the curtains, finding Eliza exactly where she had been all night — sitting on the floor, wide awake, her eyes gritty with exhaustion.
The house was silent. The terrifying footsteps had ceased hours ago.
Eliza moved slowly, her limbs stiff. She stood, quietly dismantled her barricade, and winced as the chair scraped lightly against the floor. She didn’t change her clothes. She threw her coat over the navy blazer she had worn the day before, grabbed her bag, and opened the door a crack.
The hallway was empty.
She moved like a ghost down the stairs, every sense sharp and alert. Her only goal was the front door. Get to the car. Get out of the jammer’s range.
She rounded the corner into the foyer and stopped.
Victoria was already at the dining table, sipping tea from a delicate floral cup, perfectly composed.
Eliza considered making a run for the door, but Victoria looked up.
“You look tired, dear,” Victoria said, her voice eerily normal. “Did the storm keep you up p>
Eliza tightened her grip on her bag and stepped into the doorway, keeping the exit in her peripheral vision. “Something like that.” She didn’t pour coffee. She didn’t sit. She stood ready to move.
The heavy double doors across the room opened. Anson walked in.
He looked terrible — sallow skin, bloodshot eyes, moving stiffly, favoring his left side. He froze when he saw Eliza standing there, fully dressed and clutching her bag.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Leaving,” Eliza said sharply. “Move out of my way p>