Friday afternoon we moved. Victor drove his old truck. Andrew followed in his car. We parked in the brush near the gate and walked in under the cover of a delivery schedule. Victor wore an old delivery jacket he’d kept—and it worked. The guard waved us through as a furniture drop. The garage doors were open; we slipped inside.
Inside, the house smelled of expensive perfume and antiseptic. Susan met us at a service entrance and mouthed that Kate was in the living room. I walked in quietly. Kate sat curled on the sofa clutching a cold teacup. She looked hollow, thin, and exhausted—documentary evidence of what Susan had said.
I called her name softly. She flinched and spilled cold tea on herself. When she turned her face to me I saw a terror that went beyond anger—she seemed to doubt whether I was real. After a moment she whispered, asking if I was actually there. The sedatives had left her unsure.
I told her I’d come to take her home. She panicked and begged me not to leave, terrified Michael would kill us. She said she’d lose everything without him; he’d taken her passport and cards. Susan, quick-thinking, handed her a passport she’d snatched from a safe. Kate stared at it like it was a lifeline.
Victor told us we had minutes. Kate was in shock but also knew something had to change. She clutched the passport and we helped her into the waiting van. Susan refused to come. She said if she left with us Michael would know she’d cheated him of his perfect story. She wanted to stay and be inside to gather updates and throw him off—she insisted she could manage it and that someone needed to remain a plausible “witness.” We argued, but respected her decision.
We pulled out of Pine Hollow and got on the highway. After a few miles Andrew’s phone buzzed. The guard had noticed a vehicle on the cameras and told Michael. He was furious and had booked the earliest private flight out with his people on the move. That gave us at most three hours to get out of the area and vanish. Our escape had just become a race.
