“He suspects something. If he finds out she’s on the island, everything falls apart. Do it tonight. Make sure he can’t leave tomorrow.”
Michael waited in the shadows until she left.
He didn’t wait for morning.
He gently woke Lily. “We’re going on a trip. Be very quiet.”
She nodded and grabbed her teddy bear.
In the garage, his car wouldn’t start—cut wires. They were trapped.
But the old landscaping truck roared to life.
They escaped just as the mansion lights flared on behind them.
Michael called his lawyer, Daniel, while speeding down dark back roads.
“I need a plane. Now. Claire is alive.”
A pause. Then: “Meet me at the north airstrip in thirty minutes.”
They flew to Maine under tense skies. Lily slept, unaware she was flying toward her mother.
On the coast, heavy fog rolled over crashing waves. No ferries were operating.
“I need to get to that island,” Michael told an old fisherman.
“It’s dangerous,” the man warned.
“I don’t care.”
The crossing was brutal. Waves slammed the small boat. Cold water drenched them. Lily clung to him.
Then the engine stalled.
Behind them, headlights cut through the fog—a speedboat. His family’s security.
“Start!” Michael shouted.
