Elinor Flowers POV

The next morning, I went to work as usual. The studio, "Evolve Designs," was my dream. Kimberly and I founded it three years ago. We poured our hearts into it. Every brick, every blueprint, every client meeting—it was all us. I trusted Kimberly with everything. She was my partner, my confidante. We shared a vision. Or so I thought.

My mind replayed future Jadon's chilling words: "She will steal your architectural firm using my venture capital funds." The words echoed in my head, cold and precise. I walked past Kimberly's empty desk. A cold fear gripped me. I had to check. I had to know.

Future Jadon had said this had been years in the making. If Kimberly had been planning since college, there would be a trail. I needed to find it.

I sat at her computer. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I knew her password. We shared everything. I logged in. My heart hammered against my ribs. I navigated to our shared network drive. I found a folder marked "Personal Backups." I opened it.

The screen filled with files. All of my design drafts. Every single one. Even the ones I hadn't shared with anyone yet. They were meticulously organized, dated, and copied. My breath caught in my throat. It was all there. My entire life's work.

My hands flew to my phone. "She copied all my designs," I typed to future Jadon, my fingers shaking. "All of them. Why?"

His reply came almost immediately. "She's been planning this for years. She'll use my venture capital to acquire a controlling stake in Evolve Designs. She'll force you out. The designs are her leverage. She wants to be the sole owner, the face of the firm."

My vision blurred. I stared at my screen, at the endless list of files. My designs. My creations. Each one represented countless hours, sleepless nights, boundless passion. Jadon had been my biggest supporter when I started Evolve Designs. He encouraged me. He even helped me with the initial seed money, calling it a "good investment." I had been so proud. So grateful.

Now, I realized the cruel irony. He wasn't just supporting my dream. He was unknowingly financing its theft. He was handing over my life's work to the woman who wanted to destroy me. The realization turned my gratitude into a burning rage. My stomach twisted.

In the late afternoon, Kimberly walked into the studio. She carried two coffees. Her usual bright smile was plastered on her face.

"Hey, Elinor," she said, her voice chirpy. "You look tired. Long night? All that wedding planning, I bet. I brought you coffee."

She placed the cup on my desk. Her eyes, filled with a false concern, met mine. I forced a smile. My face felt stiff. My voice was calm, steady.

"Thanks, Kim," I replied, taking a sip. The coffee was bitter. "Just a lot on my mind. Excited about the engagement, you know."

She nodded, her smile widening. "Of course! I'm so happy for you two. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

She left a few minutes later, humming a cheerful tune. The sound grated on my nerves. I watched her go, my hand clenching around the coffee cup. As soon as the door closed, I messaged future Jadon again.

"Did you regret it?" I asked, my thumb hovering over the send button. "Did you regret letting her do this to me?"

His reply was a long pause. Then: "Every day. But she made a good case. She said you were too trusting. Too naive. That you needed to be protected from your own generosity. She convinced me she was helping you, helping us."

The words were hollow. Empty. They offered no comfort.

That evening, Jadon was in the kitchen, humming a tune as he cooked dinner. The aroma of garlic and herbs filled our apartment. He made my favorite pasta dish. He looked happy. Content. He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"Rough day, honey?" he asked, his voice full of warmth. "You seem a little distracted."

I shook my head. "Just a lot of work. Deadlines."

"Well, you just relax," he said. "Let's talk about the wedding. Have you thought about colors? A venue?"

I forced a smile. "Whatever you want, Jadon. I trust your taste."

He beamed. He had no idea. The thought was a cold, hard lump in my chest.

Later, after Jadon had fallen asleep, I slipped out of bed. The silence of our apartment felt heavy. I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hot water cascaded over me. I traced the faint scar on my right shoulder. It was an old scar. A memory.

I was thirteen. Kimberly and I were playing near the old abandoned construction site. She had dared me to climb a rickety scaffolding. She lost her footing. I grabbed her. The metal beam gave way. I pulled her to safety, but a jagged piece of rebar sliced my shoulder. She cried, saying she was so sorry. I told her it was okay. We were best friends. Sisters. We would always protect each other.

The memory brought a fresh wave of grief. The hot water couldn't wash away the bitterness. I picked up my phone. I needed more answers. All of them.

"Tell me everything," I typed to future Jadon. "No more half-truths. Everything."

His reply came in a series of fragmented messages. He started with my father. My heart seized.

"Your father… his heart condition… it wasn't supposed to be that bad. Not then," he wrote. "He could have been saved. The day he died… you were away, on a business trip. I had already arranged for the best team. Specialists."

Then, the messages stopped. The screen went blank. My heart pounded. My father. My sweet, kind father. He was my rock. My world. I couldn't breathe.

"What happened?!" I messaged, my hands shaking. "Jadon! What happened to my father?!"

No reply. I waited. The minutes stretched into hours. My phone remained silent. The fear was a living thing, clawing at my throat.

Elinor Flowers POV

The night dragged on. I didn't sleep. The image of my father, his kind eyes, his gentle smile, haunted me. Each ticking second was agony. I kept refreshing my phone, hoping for a message, a sign. Nothing.

Finally, as the first hint of dawn colored the sky, my phone buzzed. Future Jadon.

"I needed to breathe," he wrote. "It's hard to talk about this. The hardest."

He paused again. Then, the truth began to unfold, piece by agonizing piece.

"Your father… he had a sudden attack. A major one. The one we always feared," he wrote. "You were in Singapore, presenting your new project. I was told. I immediately called Dr. Chen, the best heart surgeon. I arranged everything. They were on their way."

Another pause. The suspense was unbearable.

"Then Kimberly called me," he continued. "She said she was pregnant. With my child. She said she was having complications. She was bleeding. She said she was losing the baby. Our baby."

My blood ran cold. My head swam.

"I panicked," he wrote. "I left immediately. I told my assistant to make sure the doctors got to your father. I told him to call me with updates."

"I was with Kimberly in the ER. She was distraught. Crying. She said she lost the baby. I believed her. I was shattered."

"When I finally called my assistant, he told me Dr. Chen's team had been canceled. Someone called the hospital, impersonating me. She knew my assistant's name, the hospital, the surgeon—everything. She'd been in my office, gone through my emails while I was in the shower. She planned it for weeks. They said I wanted to use a different team. A cheaper, less experienced one. They said the surgery was delayed."

The words blurred. My vision swam.

"By the time I rushed back, it was too late. Your father… the surgery failed. He died on the table. You screamed for an entire night outside the operating room. I never forgot your face."

"I have carried that guilt for five years, Elinor. Every single day. It was her. She did it. She cancelled the team. She faked the pregnancy. She knew. She wanted him gone. She wanted you broken. And I let her."

I closed my phone. My hands were shaking. My head felt light. I couldn't process it. My father. Dead. Because of Kimberly. Because of Jadon's weakness.

I ran to my parents' house. The door was unlocked. My father was in the living room, reading the morning paper. He looked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Elinor! What a surprise, sweetheart!" he said, his voice warm. "Rough night? Did Jadon finally get on your nerves?"

I walked over to him, my legs trembling. I sank into the armchair beside him. I buried my face in his shoulder. His familiar scent, a mix of old books and pipe tobacco, filled my senses. I held him tight.

"No, Dad," I choked out, my voice muffled. "I just… I just wanted to see you."

I spent the whole day at their house. I helped my mother make lunch, chopped vegetables, listened to her chatter about the neighbors. I played chess with my father, letting him win, just like always. Every laugh, every glance, every touch felt precious. So incredibly fragile.

As I was leaving, I messaged future Jadon again.

"My mother," I wrote. "What about her? What happens to her?"

His reply was swift this time. Filled with raw anguish.

"Kimberly put her in a nursing home. Not a good one. A cheap one. She said it was too much for you to handle, after your father. She said you needed space. She convinced me. I let her."

"The staff… they weren't good. They over-medicated her. She became confused. Lost. She didn't recognize anyone. Not even me. She just sat there, staring blankly. She died a year later. From neglect. From a broken heart."

My phone slipped from my hand. It clattered to the floor. I looked back at the kitchen. My mother was humming a tune, washing dishes. Her apron was dusted with flour. She looked so happy. So alive. The image of her lost, confused, in a terrible place, suffocated me.

I pulled over on the drive home. The city lights blurred through my tears. I leaned my head against the steering wheel. My shoulders shook uncontrollably. How could they? How could Jadon, the man I loved, let this happen? How could Kimberly, my supposed sister, orchestrate such cruelty?

I remembered Jadon's kindness. His unwavering support. His laughter. His embrace. Now, it felt like a hollow shell. A phantom limb. I tried to reconcile the man I loved with the man who stood by and watched my family be destroyed. I couldn't. The evidence was too strong. The future Jadon's words were too specific.

I wiped my face. My tears tasted salty. Cold. I drove home.

The first thing I did when I got back was open my laptop. I started searching. Hospitals. Nursing homes. Architectural firms. I wasn't just planning my escape. I was planning their downfall. I would not let this future happen. My parents would be safe. My firm would be mine.

Then my phone rang. It was the hospital. My annual check-up results. I braced myself for the usual "everything looks normal."

"Ms. Flowers," the doctor's voice was calm, professional. "We have your results. You're three months pregnant."

My world tilted. The phone almost slipped from my grasp. I pressed a trembling hand to my abdomen. Pregnant? Three months? That meant… before the engagement. Before the proposal. Before the FaceTime call. Before the betrayals.

Tears sprang to my eyes. They weren't tears of joy. Not exactly. They were tears of a horrifying, twisted irony. A child. Our child.

I sat in the sterile hospital hallway for what felt like an eternity. My mind raced. A baby. Jadon's baby. The one future Jadon said would be lost.

I opened my phone again. "Did we have a child?" I messaged future Jadon.

The screen showed "typing…" then stopped. Then, "typing…" again. It paused for a long time. My heart pounded.

Finally, a short message appeared. "We did. Once."

Then, "Don't ask any more, Elinor. Please."

An hour passed in agonizing silence. Then, a new message. A voice note. Future Jadon's voice. It was raw, strained. Shaken.

"Elinor," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Listen to me carefully. Don't tell anyone. Not him. Not Kimberly. Get rid of it. Please. Don't let it happen. Don't let her take it from you again."

Elinor Flowers POV

I bombarded future Jadon with questions for three days. He resisted. He pleaded with me to let it go. But I wouldn't. I needed to know. I deserved to know.

On the second night, I lay awake with my hand on my stomach. The faint curve was barely there, but I could feel it now—a hardness, a presence. Lily. I tried to imagine a future where I kept this baby. Where I told Jadon, where we raised her together, where Kimberly's schemes somehow didn't touch us.

But every scenario ended the same way. Kimberly would find out. Kimberly would act. And I would lose Lily anyway—only later, only after I'd held her, named her, loved her in the flesh. After I'd seen her face.

I wasn't choosing to end a life. I was choosing which way to lose her. Fast and clean, on my terms, before Kimberly could make it slow and bloody. That was the choice future Jadon had given me. Not a good choice. Just the less cruel one.

By the third morning, I had made my decision. I didn't tell him. I just let him keep talking, filling in the gaps of a future I was already rewriting.

Finally, he gave in. His words came in a torrent, each one a fresh stab to my heart.

"You were five months pregnant when it happened," he wrote. "Jadon... he was consumed with Kimberly's new venture. He was pouring all his energy into it. He spent every night at her office. You were alone. Taking care of yourself."

My vision blurred. I remembered those weeks. I had been so tired. So nauseous. Jadon had been distant. He said work was crazy. He was "investing" in Kimberly's firm. He said he was helping me, too, by expanding "our" network. It was all a lie.

"Kimberly found out you were pregnant," future Jadon continued. "She saw your medical records when she was 'cleaning up' your office. She panicked. She knew a baby would solidify your place. She knew she'd never have Jadon then. She became desperate."

My breath hitched. A cold dread enveloped me.

"She switched your prenatal vitamins. With a drug that induces miscarriage. You had a hemorrhage. A massive one. You were rushed to the emergency room."

My stomach clenched. I relived the phantom pain, the terror.

"Jadon? He was with Kimberly. Celebrating her birthday. He was unreachable. By the time he got to the hospital, it was too late. You lost the baby. A girl. Seven months along. You could see her face. She looked so much like you."

"You had already picked a name for her. Lily. You never fully recovered, Elinor. The grief… it broke you."

My hand flew to my belly. My baby. My precious girl. Lily. She was real. She was inside me. This child, the one I had just found out about, the one who wasn't supposed to be here, was Lily. The horror of what Kimberly planned, what she would do, was unbearable.

At four in the morning, I drove to a private clinic. The streets were deserted. My mind was eerily calm, focused. I walked in, my resolve hardened to steel.

"I need to terminate my pregnancy," I told the doctor. My voice was steady.

The doctor looked at me, her expression kind but searching. "Are you absolutely sure, Ms. Flowers? It's a big decision."

I closed my eyes. "Yes," I said, the word a whisper, but firm. "I am sure."

The procedure was quick. Painful. But I didn't cry. I couldn't. After it was over, I folded the ultrasound pictures, the proof of a life that would never be, and tucked them deep into my wallet. A secret grief. A necessary sacrifice.

That afternoon, I drove my parents to the airport. I had convinced them to take an extended vacation, a trip to Europe I had "won." I had secretly arranged for them to live in a secure, anonymous location, under new identities. They believed it was a luxury trip. I told them specialist doctors in Switzerland would monitor my father's heart condition.

"Why the long face, sweetheart?" my father asked, hugging me tightly. "Are you sad to see us go?"

I forced a smile. My throat ached. "Just a little, Dad. I'll miss you both."

I watched them disappear through the security gate, their figures growing smaller and smaller. My parents. Safe. That was all that mattered. I sank to my knees, shaking, silent tears streaming down my face.

That night, I walked into Jadon's apartment for the last time. He was in the living room, immersed in a financial report. He looked up, a warm smile touching his lips.

"Hey, you're back," he said, closing his laptop. "Long day? Did your parents enjoy their fantastic 'prize'?"

I sat across from him, my gaze fixed on his face. This man, my childhood sweetheart, my fiancé. The man who would allow my family to be destroyed. The man who would enable my best friend to murder our child.

"Jadon," I said, my voice quiet. "What would you do if I wasn't here anymore? If I just… disappeared?"

He put down his report. He took my face in his hands, his eyes full of concern.

"What are you talking about, Elinor?" he said, his voice firm. "Don't say things like that. If you disappeared, I would find you. I would search the ends of the earth. You're my world."

He kissed the tip of my nose. His voice was full of conviction. "Please, don't ever leave me."

He pulled me into a tight embrace. I buried my face in his neck. His scent, familiar and comforting, filled my senses. It was the last time. I knew it. This was the last time I would ever let myself lean on him.

I would disappear. He would search. But he would never find me. Not the real me.