Before I could answer, I heard Miya in the background. Sugary, fake concern dripping off every word. “Who are you even talking to?”
“It’s Lesley,” he said flat.
Miya gasped. “Lesley? What does she want now? Is she begging again? Fredrinn, I don’t want drama. I’m scared of her. I slapped me, I’m traumatized. Maybe after a month, once I calm down, I’ll do the surgery. I know she’s jealous. I don’t want you two fighting. I’m sorry.”
“No, Miya. Don’t apologize.”
The line went dead. He hung up. Just like that.
My phone buzzed before I could pull it from my ear. A new message.
“Look who won. Me. Poor Lesley. Your husband doesn’t even look at you. Do everyone a favor. Disappear. That’ll make life easier for all of us.”
I stared at the black screen. My chest burned. No tears. I turned to my mother and whispered, “Do it now, Mum.”
She didn’t hesitate. She pulled out her phone, face unreadable. I watched her make calls quietly. Shadows moved across the city that night. Cars drove empty streets. Envelopes changed hands. My phone ended up somewhere it shouldn’t have.
I didn’t ask for details. Didn’t want to know.
All I remember was tires screeching, headlights flashing, then silence. My phone abandoned, my wedding ring and bracelet planted like proof for someone else to find. My mother’s face calm, staring down at the staged wreck.
By morning, news broke everywhere. “Local woman killed in car crash en route to hospital.” Reporters buzzing, police tape flapping, neighbors crying. No confirmed name, but my phone and ring were shown. Proof enough.
In the suite, the TV glowed. My mother turned it off, hand steady. “It’s done, child,” she said.
I nodded. My chest was full of grief and relief all tangled together. I couldn’t tell which was which.
She handled everything in hours. New passports, new names, a private jet waiting. The concierge packed our luggage quietly, under a fake name. The world bent around her money and certainty.
By dawn, we walked through a silent private terminal. My mother’s hand on my back, guiding me. I looked at the city skyline one last time. My chest tightened, but I turned away and stepped onto the plane.
“Cabin secure. Preparing for takeoff,” the pilot’s voice said.
My mother leaned close. “You okay?”