The two bodyguards stood like brick walls in front of the double doors, completely cutting off Evelyn's exit.

Evelyn stopped. She turned around slowly. Her eyes were like daggers as they locked onto Camila, who was walking up behind her.

Camila stopped a few feet away. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her chin tilted up in arrogance. "Open the suitcase. We need to inspect it."

"I am taking my own clothes," Evelyn said, her voice tight.

"I have to ensure you aren't smuggling out any Harrison family assets or confidential documents," Camila replied.

Evelyn sucked in a sharp breath. Her chest burned with the effort to keep her anger contained. She let go of the suitcase handle and took a step back.

She gestured toward the bag with an open palm. "Be my guest."

Camila crouched down. She yanked the zipper open roughly. She dug her manicured hands into the neatly folded sweaters, tossing them aside and messing up the entire contents.

Then, she reached out and snatched the tarnished silver necklace from Evelyn’s coat pocket. She inspected the clasp, realized it was worthless junk, and tossed it back onto the pile of clothes with a sneer.

Then, Camila stood up. Her eyes fell on the black hardcover notebook that Evelyn was clutching tightly against her chest.

"Hand over the notebook," Camila demanded.

Evelyn's heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers dug into the leather cover. This was the core of Aura Beauty.

"No," Evelyn said coldly. "This is my personal diary. It has nothing to do with the Harrisons."

Camila let out a dry laugh. She flicked her eyes to the bodyguard on the left. The massive man stepped forward, grabbed Evelyn's wrist, and forcefully ripped the notebook out of her arms.

The sudden violent pull threw Evelyn off balance. She stumbled sideways, her shoulder slamming hard into the drywall of the entryway. A sharp, familiar cramp bloomed in her lower abdomen, making her breath hitch in terror.

Camila took the notebook from the guard. She flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the pages filled with complex chemical formulas, molecular structures, and botanical extraction ratios.

Because Camila’s expertise lay in ironclad contracts rather than science, the advanced cosmetic chemistry looked like absolute gibberish to her. She dismissed the complex notations as nothing more than a pathetic collection of cooking recipes or DIY skincare notes.

Camila scoffed loudly. She tossed the notebook back at Evelyn like it was a piece of trash.

The heavy book hit Evelyn in the chest and fell to the hardwood floor. Evelyn crouched down immediately. She picked it up carefully, brushing an invisible speck of dust from the cover.

Camila clapped her hands together, signaling the end of the search. "You can take your garbage and leave now."

Evelyn knelt on the floor and zipped her suitcase back up. She stood tall. She didn't say a single word to Camila. She grabbed the handle and walked out the front door.

She stepped into the elevator. She watched the stainless-steel doors slide shut, finally sealing off the prison she had lived in for three years.

As the elevator descended, Evelyn pulled her phone from her pocket. She dialed Elliot Thorne's number.

He answered on the first ring. "Evelyn?" His deep voice was immediately laced with concern.

"Come get me. I’m at the penthouse," Evelyn said. Her voice cracked, just once.

Evelyn walked out of the lobby. The sky above Manhattan had turned a bruised, dark gray. A freezing, steady rain was falling.

She stood under the narrow awning of the building. The biting wind whipped the cold rain against her thin trench coat. She shivered violently, her teeth chattering. The biting cold seeped into her bones, and a dull, rhythmic throb began to pulse in her womb—a grim reminder of the doctor’s warning.

The doorman watched her through the glass, his eyes full of pity, but company policy kept him inside.

Evelyn positioned her suitcase to block the wind. She wrapped her arms around herself, counting the minutes until Elliot would arrive.

Half an hour later, what felt like an absolute eternity to Evelyn, a black, armored Maybach tore through the rain and slammed on its brakes right at the curb in front of the building. During those agonizing thirty minutes, the biting wind had completely soaked through her thin coat, freezing her to the bone while passing pedestrians cast pitying glances at her shivering frame.

The rear door flew open. Elliot Thorne, dressed in a bespoke black suit, stepped out. He popped open a massive black umbrella and took the stairs two at a time.

Elliot reached her. He tilted the massive umbrella entirely over Evelyn's head, completely exposing his own broad shoulders to the freezing downpour.

Elliot looked down at Evelyn. He saw her pale lips and the rain soaking the hem of her jeans. A dark, violent rage flashed in his deep eyes.

He reached out with his free hand and took the handle of her battered suitcase. With a swift motion, he shrugged off his suit jacket, which still held the heat of his body, and draped it over Evelyn's shivering shoulders.

Evelyn pulled the oversized jacket tighter around herself. The sudden warmth seeped into her skin. "Thank you," she whispered.

Elliot guided her down the concrete steps toward the waiting Maybach. His bodyguard had already opened the rear door for them.

Just as Evelyn bent down to slide into the leather seat, the screech of tires tore through the sound of the rain. A silver Aston Martin swerved aggressively in front of the Maybach, completely blocking it in.

The driver's side door was shoved open. Julian Harrison stepped out. He didn't bother with an umbrella. He marched straight into the freezing rain.

He had driven back to the penthouse to grab a file he left in the study, only to pull up and witness this exact scene.

Julian's eyes locked onto Evelyn like a targeting laser. He saw Elliot's suit jacket draped over her. The rain ran down Julian's sharp jawline, but the fire in his eyes was burning out of control.

He closed the distance in long, angry strides.

Elliot immediately stepped forward. He positioned his large frame directly in front of Evelyn, shielding her entirely from Julian's view.

Julian stopped two feet away. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Kicked out of my house for five minutes, and you've already found your next sponsor."

Julian shifted his gaze to Elliot, his lip curling in disgust. "I didn't know you had a fetish for wearing my used shoes, Thorne."

Elliot's eyes went dead cold. He shoved the umbrella into his bodyguard's hand. He lunged forward and grabbed Julian by the collar of his wet dress shirt.

"Watch your mouth," Elliot snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I have no problem beating a CEO to a pulp on the street."

Julian didn't flinch. He glared right back, slapping Elliot's hands away and adjusting his ruined collar.

Julian looked past Elliot's shoulder, aiming his words directly at Evelyn. His mouth twisted into a vicious sneer.

"Good for you, Evelyn," Julian shouted over the rain. "You finally found a sucker to raise those bastards in your stomach."

The word bastards hit Evelyn like a poisoned blade straight to the heart. Her body jerked under Elliot's jacket.

She stared at the man she had loved for ten years. He looked like a complete stranger. A monster.

Elliot lost his mind. He pulled his right arm back and drove his fist directly into Julian's cheekbone.

The sickening crack of bone hitting bone echoed in the rain. Julian stumbled backward, caught entirely off guard. Blood immediately pooled at the corner of his mouth.

Julian's driver jumped out of the Aston Martin, rushing forward. The tension on the street spiked to a lethal level.

Just as Elliot raised his fists again, Evelyn stepped out from behind him.

She reached out with her pale hand and wrapped her fingers around Elliot's clenched fist. She gently pulled his arm down and shook her head.

Evelyn turned to look at Julian. He was wiping the blood from his lip. The agonizing pain and desperate love that used to live in her eyes were completely gone. There was nothing left but dead, gray ash.

"From this second on," Evelyn said, her voice so cold and flat it cut through the rain, "my children and I have absolutely nothing to do with you."

She didn't wait for a response. She turned around and slid into the back of the Maybach.

Elliot shot Julian one last look of pure disgust, like he was looking at a pathetic loser. He got into the car and slammed the door shut.

The Maybach's engine roared to life. It reversed smoothly, steered around the Aston Martin, and disappeared into the gray rain.

Julian stood alone on the wet pavement. He watched the red taillights fade away. Suddenly, a sharp, unexplainable pain pierced the center of his chest, making it hard to breathe.

The Maybach glided smoothly over the slick Manhattan asphalt. Inside the cabin, the rich scent of leather and Elliot's cologne filled the air.

Evelyn leaned her head back against the plush headrest. The rigid tension in her spine finally collapsed. She let out a long, shaky breath, expelling the toxic air of the last three years.

Elliot reached into the small built-in refrigerator between the seats. He pulled out a bottle of room-temperature Fiji water, twisted the cap off, and handed it to her.

Evelyn took a slow sip. The water soothed her dry, burning throat. She turned her head. "Thank you. For hitting him."

Elliot turned his head, his gaze meeting hers in the dim light of the cabin. A cynical, protective smirk touched his lips. "I've been wanting to break his jaw for three years."

At that exact moment, a soaking wet Julian stepped out of his private elevator and into the penthouse. He walked into the entryway and violently kicked a massive porcelain floor vase. It shattered into a hundred pieces.

He marched into the master bedroom and stared at the empty corner of the closet. The space where her cheap clothes used to hang was bare. It made his chest feel uncomfortably tight.

Julian pulled out his phone and dialed Camila. "Find out what properties Elliot Thorne owns in the city. Track her down. Now."

Half an hour later, the Maybach descended into a highly secure underground garage beneath a luxury high-rise on the Upper East Side, right off Central Park.

Elliot led Evelyn to a private elevator that required a retinal scan. They rode it straight up to the 68th floor.

The doors opened directly into a massive, sprawling penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around 270 degrees of the living space, offering an unobstructed, breathtaking view of Central Park.

The interior was warm, filled with rich textures and soft lighting-the exact opposite of Julian's cold, minimalist aesthetic.

Elliot tossed a set of keys onto a silver tray near the door. "This place is owned by an offshore shell company. Julian's people will never find a paper trail linking it to me, or to you."

Evelyn slipped off the damp trench coat. She walked slowly toward the glass wall, looking out over the sprawling city skyline.

Elliot walked up behind her. He unfolded a thick, heated cashmere blanket and draped it gently over her shoulders.

Evelyn pulled the blanket tight across her chest. Her hands moved down, resting protectively over her lower abdomen. A fierce, resilient light sparked in her eyes.

She turned to face Elliot. "Elliot, I can't stay here for free," Evelyn said, her voice steady despite the lingering chill in her bones. "Let me work for you to cover the rent, or at least let me sign an IOU. I will pay you back, with interest."

Elliot chuckled, shaking his head. He knew her stubborn pride too well. He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and emailed her a digital lease agreement.

Evelyn opened the email on her phone and signed it with her finger immediately.

She walked over to her battered suitcase and unzipped it. She pulled out the black hardcover notebook and carried it to the massive mahogany desk in the corner of the room.

Evelyn sat down in the leather executive chair. She flipped the notebook open. Her fingers traced the complex chemical formulas written on the pages.

Evelyn took a deep, slow breath, placing a trembling hand on her still-flat stomach. The cold fury and lingering heartbreak inside her rapidly solidified into a diamond-hard resolve. It was no longer just about her survival; it was about theirs. She closed her eyes for a long second, and when she opened them, all remaining vulnerability was completely gone, replaced by a chilling, undeniable focus—the look of a woman who had finally stopped playing the victim and found her weapon.

"I need you to source top-tier, lab-grade raw materials through a blind supply chain," Evelyn said. Her voice had changed. The tone was absolute.

Elliot dropped his casual demeanor. He pulled out a tablet and a stylus, ready to work.

Evelyn rattled off a list of highly restricted botanical extracts and synthetic peptides. Her eyes were sharp, calculating. She looked like a general preparing for war.

"Aura Beauty’s flagship anti-aging line must be ready for production by next month," Evelyn commanded. "It’s time to claim the market share that should have been mine."

Elliot watched her profile. This was the real Evelyn Reed.

"Consider it done," Elliot said. "I'll use my family's logistics network."

He told her to get some rest and take care of the two babies. Then he walked out, leaving her alone in her new fortress.

The apartment was dead silent. Evelyn walked into the massive kitchen and heated a mug of milk.

She stood by the window, the warm mug in her hands, looking down at the glittering lights of New York. We are free, she told her stomach silently.