Chapter 5

The next day, Coleman brought several documents to me.

"Sign here."

Once I did, he turned another file toward me.

"Irrevocable trust from your grandmother. You're the sole beneficiary. Thirty million in principal, a Manhattan co-op, a place in Greenwich. You're eighteen. The first tier of funds can be released."

"Can my parents touch it?"

"Not a single cent."

I looked down at the numbers.

So, I wasn't trapped after all.

He opened another folder. "Three years ago, when your parents decided to send you to Cedar Ridge, I formally objected in writing."

He slid a printed email across the table. "I did my due diligence. That place already had active abuse complaints. I warned them. They didn't listen."

I sat in silence for a long time.

"It's not too late for them to listen now," he said, looking at me, laying out the battle plan. "We're replacing your SSN and state ID. Opening new personal accounts. Expediting the trust release. I'm pulling your hospital, ER, and 911 records, getting you a new number, and reaching out to other victims."

"What about Lila?"

"Until the evidence is secured, you go back home as usual. You play whatever part she thinks you're playing."

He pulled a digital voice recorder from his drawer and slid it over. "New York is a one-party consent state. Legal and binding. You don't need to argue with her. Just let her talk."

On the third day, Lila knocked on my door and poked her head in, smiling. "Sis, can we chat?"

She closed the door behind her and stared at me for a few seconds. "You called Coleman. You got your memory back."

It wasn't a question.

I lowered my eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She walked right up to me, looking down her nose. "Eleanor, this family believes me. I said you pulled a knife, they shipped you to the desert for three years. You don't belong here anymore. Leave."

My lips trembled. "If I leave... how am I supposed to live? I have no money, no cards. If you want me gone forever, never mentioning the past, you have to give me something to survive on."

She crossed her arms. "A lump sum. You sign an NDA. Renounce the family, shut your mouth about the past, and never contact them again."

I slowly nodded. "Ten million."

Her face twisted. "Are you insane?"

I looked up at her. "Then I'm not leaving. When they get back, I'll start asking questions."

She glared at me. A few seconds later, she gritted her teeth, pulled out her phone, and initiated a wire transfer. "Ten million. It clears today. Once it hits, you get the hell out."

My phone buzzed. The transfer was complete.

She let out a cold, arrogant laugh, like she couldn't hold it in anymore. "So what if I sliced my own wrist? So what if I threw myself down the stairs? They will always believe me. You'd do well to remember that."

I lowered my eyes. "I'll remember."

She slammed the door on her way out.

The moment the door clicked shut, I reached under my pillow. The recorder was still running.

I pressed stop.

This time, my hands were perfectly steady.

That evening, Mom, Dad, and Harry all received the same email simultaneously.

Attached: Lila's audio recording, preliminary evidence against Cedar Ridge, photos of my scarred back, and Coleman's business card.

The body of the email contained only one line.

I'm moving out. Don't look for me.

The wheels of my suitcase rolled across the living room floor. No one was there to stop me.

I pushed the front door open, walked out, and never looked back.