Chapter 3

　　The airport is quiet at this hour. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting pale shadows across empty benches. I sit in a corner near the departure gates, my small suitcase at my feet, my hand still pressed against my stomach as if I can protect what is growing there just by touch.

　　Lena finds me ten minutes later. Her heels click against the tile, sharp and steady. She is still in her work clothes, a navy blazer, her hair pulled back. She sits beside me without a word and takes my hand.

　　I tell her everything. The anniversary dinner. Celeste in my dress. Nathaniel's text. The pregnancy test.

　　Lena listens. She does not interrupt. When I finish, she squeezes my fingers and says I did the right thing.

　　I ask if she can help me disappear. She says she already started. The divorce papers are drafted. She will file them in the morning. Nathaniel will be served at his office. I will not have to see him.

　　I ask about the baby. She says we will handle it. My medical license is still valid. My old mentor at the hospital already agreed to take me back. I will not be Mrs. Preston anymore. I will be Dr. Preston. No one needs to know about the child.

　　I lean my head on her shoulder. I have not cried yet. I think I am afraid that if I start, I will not stop.

　　She asks if I told Marcus. I nod. He is arranging a place for me to stay, somewhere Nathaniel will not think to look. Lena says Marcus is already tracking Celeste's private investigator. She laughs softly and says Marcus always hated Nathaniel. I smile despite myself. Marcus warned me for years. He said Nathaniel was cold, that he never looked at me the way a husband should. I did not want to see it.

　　I see it now.

　　My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen. Nathaniel's name.

　　Lena takes the phone from my hand. She silences it and slips it into her bag. She tells me to focus on what comes next. I will have time to feel later.

　　The private plane Marcus arranged takes off at dawn. I watch the city shrink beneath me, the towers turning to toothpicks, the rivers to threads. I left my wedding ring on the nightstand. I left the emerald dress on the bedroom floor. I left the pregnancy test in the bathroom, two pink lines that will tell him nothing because he will not look.

　　I lean my head back and close my eyes. I do not sleep. I plan.

　　I will return to surgery. I will rebuild my reputation. I will raise this child alone. I will not let Nathaniel Preston take anything else from me.

　　The apartment Marcus secured is in a different state, a quiet city where no one knows my face. It is small but clean. A bedroom, a kitchen, a window that faces east. Marcus meets me at the door. He is taller than I remember, broader, his jaw set in that stubborn line that means he is holding back anger.

　　He hugs me. He does not ask questions. He just holds me until I pull away.

　　He has already stocked the fridge. He has already set up a security system. He has already hired a lawyer to help with the divorce. Lena sent him the files. He tells me Nathaniel will not find me. Not ever.

　　I ask if Nathaniel knows I left. Marcus says he probably does not. He came home late last night. Celeste was with him. They did not notice the missing suitcase until this morning.

　　I ask how Marcus knows. He says he has eyes everywhere. I do not ask what that means.

　　Three days pass. I do not look at my phone. I do not check the news. I do not search for Nathaniel's name.

　　I call the hospital. My old mentor, Dr. Patricia Vance, answers. She remembers me. She asks where I have been. I tell her I took time off for personal reasons. She does not press. She says there is an opening in cardiothoracic surgery. The position starts in two weeks.

　　I take it.

　　I find a new doctor. An obstetrician. I go alone. I lie on the examination table and stare at the ceiling while the ultrasound wand moves across my stomach. The screen flickers. The doctor points to a small shape, a heartbeat flickering like a tiny flame.

　　She says I am seven weeks. She asks if I have a partner. I say no.

　　She does not ask more questions.

　　A week after I leave, Marcus calls me into his office. He has a folder on his desk, photographs spread across the leather surface. I recognize Celeste's face. Nathaniel's mother, Patricia, standing beside her outside a restaurant. They are laughing.

　　Marcus tells me they are working together. Patricia hired a private investigator to track me down. Celeste is spreading rumors that I left Nathaniel because I was having an affair. She has already planted stories in the tabloids.

　　I ask what Nathaniel is doing.

　　Marcus slides a newspaper across the desk. The headline reads Preston Heiress's Wife Abandons Marriage, Leaves With Mystery Lover. Below it, a photograph of me walking out of the airport, blurred but recognizable.

　　I read the article. It says I was seen leaving with an unknown man. It says Nathaniel is devastated. It says his mother confirmed the affair.

　　I put the paper down. My hands are steady. I tell Marcus that Nathaniel knows none of it is true. He knows I was never unfaithful. He knows Celeste is lying.

　　Marcus asks if that matters. He already chose her. He already chose them.

　　I do not answer.