THE WIFE WHO SOLD OUR SOUL

The storm broke just as I hit the highway, rain lashing against the windshield in sheets. I pushed the accelerator to the floor, the engine of the borrowed hospital security cruiser roaring in protest.

St. Abigail’s Academy was nestled in the deep woods of the neighboring county. It was isolated, exclusive, and currently in the crosshairs of a desperate woman with nothing left to lose.

I called the local county sheriff on Bluetooth while I drove, screaming over the thunder.

“I need units at St. Abigail’s Academy immediately. Attempted kidnapping in progress. Suspect is Victoria Whitmore.”

“Sir, we don’t have any units in that sector right now due to the mudslides on Route 9. We can dispatch a cruiser, but it’ll take at least forty minutes.”

“I don’t have forty minutes!” I yelled, slamming the steering wheel. “She has a private jet on standby at the county airstrip! If she gets the girl, she’s gone!”

I hung up and floored it.

I reached the academy gates in record time, smashing through the wooden security barricade without slowing down. The campus was dark, the gothic stone buildings shadowed in the heavy rain.

I slammed the brakes in front of the main dormitory, tires sliding on the wet gravel.

There was a sleek black town car parked out front, engine running, headlights cutting through the downpour. The trunk was popped open, revealing two large suitcases.

I jumped out into the rain and ran for the dorm entrance.

Inside, the grand foyer was dimly lit. I heard voices coming from the second-floor landing.

“Let me go! I don’t know who you are!” a young, frightened voice cried out.

“Stop fighting me, Lily! I am your mother, and we are leaving right now!” Victoria’s voice cracked like a whip.

I took the stairs three at a time.

At the top of the landing, Victoria was dragging a slender, terrified fifteen-year-old girl by the arm. Lily looked pale, clutching a medical inhaler in her free hand. She was crying, digging her heels into the carpet.

Victoria looked up and saw me. Her face twisted into a mask of pure panic and rage.

“Charles! Stay back!”

“It’s over, Victoria,” I said, stepping between them and the stairs. “The police have the ledger. They have Marcus’s confession. The bank accounts are frozen. There’s nowhere to go.”

“I’m not leaving without her,” Victoria snarled, yanking Lily harder. The girl let out a yelp of pain.

“She doesn’t even know you!” I shouted. “You threw her away fifteen years ago so you could marry money. You don’t get to play mother now just because you need a companion on the run!”

Lily stared at Victoria in horror. “You… you’re the donor? The woman from the foundation?”

“I’m your mother, Lily,” Victoria pleaded, her voice suddenly softening into a sick, desperate manipulation. “I did everything for you. I paid for your treatments. I kept you alive! And now these people are trying to tear us apart. We have to go.”

“No,” Lily whispered, pulling her arm free. She backed away, pressing herself against the wall. “You’re a monster.”

The word hit Victoria like a physical blow. She staggered back, staring at the girl she had abandoned. For a fraction of a second, I saw genuine devastation in her eyes. But it was quickly replaced by cold, hard survival.

She reached into her designer trench coat.

I thought she was going for a gun. I lunged at her.

But it wasn’t a gun. It was a heavy brass paperweight from a desk in the hallway.

She swung it wildly, catching me hard on the side of the head. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and I crashed to the floor, my vision blurring.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Victoria hissed, stepping over me. She didn’t try to grab the girl again. She knew she was out of time.

She sprinted down the hall toward the fire escape.

I forced myself up, blood dripping down my temple, and staggered after her.

I burst through the fire escape doors out into the freezing rain just in time to see Victoria climbing down the iron stairs.

“Victoria!” I roared.

She didn't look back. She hit the ground running, sprinting toward the black town car.

But as she reached for the door handle, the roar of an engine ripped through the courtyard.

A hospital security SUV tore around the corner, blocking the exit.

The door flew open, and Daniel jumped out.

He didn’t have a weapon. He just stood in the rain, blocking her path, staring at the woman who had terrorized his mother and stolen his birthright.

Victoria froze. She looked at Daniel, then back at me on the fire escape, and finally at the flashing red and blue lights of three police cruisers tearing up the main driveway.

She was trapped.

The police swarmed the courtyard, guns drawn, shouting orders over the rain.

Victoria didn't fight. She slowly raised her hands, letting the rain wash away the perfect makeup, the expensive perfume, the entire illusion she had spent fifteen years building.

As they slapped the cuffs on her wrists, she looked up at me.

“You think you won, Charles?” she screamed over the wind, her voice filled with venom. “You’re just a pathetic man who fell in love with a ghost! You have nothing!”