Kia
Dinner had ended with my crystal glass half empty and my plate scraped clean, but I could barely remember what I'd eaten. I spent dinner nodding where manners dictated, smiling where necessary, and forcing food down my throat trying to ignore the weighted lump I felt hanging there. Each bite was a chore and no matter how hard I tried I could not drown out the small talk between my husband and Holland.
And so, as both men withdrew to the study, I rested back against the cold marble countertop in the kitchen; feeling slightly at ease though, I could still hear the muffled mumbles of the male voices behind the heavy oak door at the end of the hall.
Daisy stood across from me and for the first time this evening, there was no need for pretense. "We have to leave. Here, this life," I said quietly, but the desperation in my tone was clear. Daisy released a sharp breath, putting the glass down on the counter with a soft clink. "I know." She smoothed out her perfectly styled hair, the strands now a bit frizzy. "I knew the moment I heard Holland say their plans out loud." She shook her head. "Our children, Kia. They're only babies."
My fingers curled into fists. "And they want to turn them into shards of their empire. Sculpt them into heirs of a world they shouldn't have been born into." There was silence between us, heavy and suffocating. "They'll never let us go." Daisy's voice was raw, her eyes scanning mine as if searching for an answer. "They won't have a choice," I said, already in planning mode. "We aren't asking them. We are choosing to take our lives back, along with the lives of our children. We'll disappear." I could see that Daisy wasn't sure we could pull it off. "How?"
I drew in a deep breath. We only had one chance at this. If we failed, our children's lives would be lost forever, and we would be worse off than dead. But if we managed to do it—if we could vanish into the night—we could give Genesis and Caspian a future that was free of crime and violence.
I yanked Daisy's hand into my own, grasping tightly. "The engagement." Daisy was confused. "What?" "The night of the children's betrothal" I answered, my tone stronger now. "That's when we'll leave." Daisy pulled her hand back, shaking her head. "But that's months from now."
"I know. It'll give us enough time to prepare. They'll be distracted. Our husbands would be too busy doing business, making announcements, and celebrating their unstoppable union. There would be lots of guests and the guards of those guests would be the ones at the exterior, tending to the cars. The fewer, more loyal eyes would inside be on Richard and Holland. No one would be observing hard enough to notice us escaping in the middle of all the chaos." Daisy questioned- "And where do we go? We can't just drive off to another state and hope they don't find us." I had already thought of that. "We would go overseas. To a place where Richard and Holland don't have a base established yet. South America, maybe. I have some friends in Argentina who owe me a favor."
Daisy's mouth fell open in surprise. "Have you been planning this"? I nodded. "I had to. I knew this day would arrive." I didn't say it out loud but my previous planning hadn't included daisy and Caspian nor was my destination Argentina. My plans would definitely have to change.
He won't be happy about this.
Daisy swallowed, looking down at her hands. "What about money? Identification?" "I'll handle the money," I assured her. "I've been withdrawing small sums from Richard's accounts for the past year. He hasn't noticed. If I can manage to do so for the next few weeks, we'll have enough to start over." Daisy's eyebrows went up a little, but she didn't say anything in response. "As for identification, I have a friend who can get us new birth certificates and new passports. We can't leave any trace behind. Our records would need to be cleared."
Daisy let out a slow breath. "Genesis and Caspian will have a hard time adjusting. They won't understand why we're doing this." My gut twisted. That was the hardest part. Genesis had never known a life outside the limits of our compound, outside the security and indulgence her father provided. To remove her from all she'd ever known would be confusing. But in the long run it would be better than keeping her here.
"We'll let them know when we're ready," I stated with conviction. "In the meantime, we make arrangements." Daisy nodded, relief flooding her face.
We had a plan.
We had an escape.
Now we just had to ensure we survived long enough to carry it out.
Back in our quarters after the guests had left, as I listened to Richards soft snores but struggled to find sleep myself, I tried to imagine what our lives would be like if we were successful in escaping.
…6 months later, the night of the betrothal…
In my and Richard's quarters within the west wing of the house, Daisy and I moved with nervous haste, our footsteps making muffled sounds as the shuffled across the marble floors. My hands trembled as I shoved some of my less elegant dresses into a leather satchel. My breath was uneven as an anxious ache in anticipation of the upcoming trip clung to the base of my stomach. As I rushed to round off my packing- which I was unable to complete days prior due to my husband's lurking; my fingers brushed against something cold. A locket. Pure silver and lined with diamonds containing an image of Richard, Genesis and I on the day of her birth. Richard had gifted it to me as a push present after Genesis was born. A rare moment of softness in a man who believed emotions were best used as leverage. I used to hold it when the house grew too quiet, when pretending grew too hard. I used to believe it meant something.
Supposedly a symbol of our love after the tension for a child almost wrecked our marriage. I remember how this bedroom for years felt like a prison. How for such a long time it felt like I was confined to this bed- treated like an animal for breeding in hopes that I would give him the heir he was so desperate for. For a second, I just held it, pressing it against my palm like it could anchor me. I remembered his fingers fastening it around my neck, the way he had smiled. Even after the doctors had delivered the news that I would never be able to conceive again. He still seemed so pleased with the one daughter I had given him. How had I been so naive? That smile hadn't been love. It had been ownership. My jaw clenched. I shoved it into the bag. It was mine. Whatever else I had lost, this—this piece—I would keep.
I looked around the room. The ridiculous bed, drowning in silk sheets. The vanity crowded with crystal perfume bottles. Grief surged through me—not for the man, or the gilded prison he had offered me—but for the girl I used to be. The one who thought love would be enough. The one who walked into this house with stars in her eyes. I was leaving her behind, too.
Daisy was beside me, breath ragged as she crammed books and papers into her bag. She never hid what she felt—it spilled out of her, raw and honest. I could feel it on her like static. Her fear was loud. And it was justified.
"What do you think will happen to us if we get caught," she whispered.
"We won't get caught" I said. My voice lightly trembled, even as my grip on the bag tightened.
She looked at me like my words had been enough to assure her. I think she just wanted to believe me. And for a second, I think she almost did. But we knew what we were doing was extremely dangerous. She knew the truth. It wasn't courage pushing me forward—it was desperation.
"Kia," she whispered again, "They have the resourced to find us. You know that, don't you? We're in over our heads here"
I paused, my hand brushing over the velvet box I'd left untouched for years.
"They won't find us" I said, colder; "There won't be a trail for them to follow, it'll simply be like we vanished into thin air. But on the slim chance they do find us…." I opened the box, the steel pink gun I was given by my mom slid into my grasp. "The wont take us easily"
Daisy blinked, and I saw her swallow her fear. She wanted to believe me so badly. But she'd seen too much. She'd seen what happened to those who tried to leave.
A girl had tried to run a few weeks ago when Daisy was over planning some details of the engagement. She was Seventeen. A servant. She thought she could slip out of the compound unnoticed. I don't even know why she had been trying to leave. Holland had somehow known about her plan. He always managed to know what was happening in the compound. He beat her so badly where he found her before dragging her bloodied and broken down to the basement and calling for a household meeting, He made her an example towards everyone. In front of us all he placed a knife in her hand, whispered something to her that made her eyes go wide before he guided her hand to rape herself with the sharp end of the knife until she went limp and lifeless.
Now Daisy was looking at me like she could already picture our bodies sprawled across the cold floors, our stories cut short.
"How can you be sure?" she asked, voice cracking. "How can you be so sure we won't end up like—"
"Because I won't let them." I cut her off, sharp. My voice wasn't loud, but it didn't have to be. I met her eyes, and I let her see what was left in me. Not hope. Not faith. Just the determination to survive.
She nodded.
She adjusted the strap of her satchel across her shoulder and turned to me. "Then let's go."
A sound suddenly rang through the hallway. Low. Groaning.
My breath caught. My heart slammed so loud I could hear nothing else. Daisy reached under her skirt and pulled out a dagger. She wasn't shaking. Not anymore.
We stood there, frozen. The shadows twitched.
Then—laughter. Distant clinking glasses. A slammed door. My body jumped.
I exhaled shakily. My hand pressed against my chest, trying to hold myself together. Daisy didn't put the dagger away.
"We need to leave now," she said.
I nodded. My eyes flicked toward the corner of the room—the crib. Genesis used to sleep there, swaddled in pink, soft breath rising and falling like a lullaby. My throat tightened. I had wanted more time. Just a moment. But time was gone.
Daisy reached for my wrist, her fingers grounding me. We didn't speak.
We slung our bags over our shoulders. The door to the servants' hall groaned as it opened, the sound too loud in this silent war.
Beyond it was a corridor lined with darkness. I could smell freedom in it. Or maybe just the unknown.
I looked back, once. At everything I had survived.
Then I stepped forward, into the dark, and didn't look back again, heading towards the garden where we knew our children would be waiting.