Jessica hadn't planned to tell Cecelia so soon.
Not because she didn't trust her, but because the very thought of putting it into words made everything feel too real — too heavy. But after Spencer King's chilling warning the night before, the weight pressing down on her chest became unbearable.
The moment Cecelia came out of the kitchen with a steaming mug of tea in her hand, Jessica blurted out, her voice trembling:
"Cecelia… I'm pregnant."
The ceramic mug stopped midair. Tea sloshed against the rim. For a moment, Cecelia just stared at her, blinking like she hadn't heard correctly.
"You— what?"
Jessica swallowed hard, forcing the lump in her throat down. "I said I'm pregnant." Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater, knuckles white. "And it's… it's Spencer King's."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Cecelia set the mug down on the coffee table with deliberate slowness, like any sudden movement might cause Jessica to break apart. Then, her brows drew together sharply. "That night at the hotel…" she said slowly, piecing it together.
Jessica nodded, shame flooding her cheeks. "I took the morning-after pill. I thought it was over. But… apparently, the tea I drank—Pu-erh—interfered with it. And now…" Her voice cracked. "Now he wants me to terminate it."
Cecelia's mouth fell open, outrage igniting in her eyes. "He what?!" She shot to her feet, pacing in front of the couch like a lioness who'd just been told her cub was in danger. "Jessica, are you insane? Why are you even telling me this now? We could have been planning something sooner!"
Jessica's head dropped into her hands. "Because I didn't know what to do! I wanted to avoid telling you until I'd figured it out myself."
"Well, guess what?" Cecelia said sharply, crouching in front of her. "There's nothing to figure out. You are not getting rid of that baby, do you hear me? We're leaving. Today."
Jessica's head snapped up. "Leaving? Where would we even go?"
"Anywhere he can't find you." Cecelia's tone left no room for argument. "I've got some cash saved up. We'll pack just the essentials. You'll take a train under a fake name. You'll stay somewhere until we figure out the next move."
Jessica's heart thudded violently. The thought of running — of leaving everything behind — both terrified and comforted her. She thought of Spencer's cold eyes, of his voice dripping with warning: It's best not to test my patience.
"He's going to find me," she said quietly, almost to herself.
"Not if we're careful," Cecelia replied firmly, her hand gripping Jessica's. "You told me yourself — this might be your only chance to have a child. Do you really think I'm going to let him take that from you? Over my dead body."
Jessica blinked back tears. The loyalty in Cecelia's eyes was almost too much to bear.
The Plan
By mid-morning, they had a plan. Cecelia rummaged through her wardrobe, tossing clothes into a duffel bag. "You can't take too much — the heavier the bag, the slower you'll be. Just basics, and the documents you must keep."
Jessica was already moving around the apartment, collecting her ID, a small amount of cash, and a change of clothes. Her hands shook with every zipper she pulled. "What about my phone?"
"Leave it," Cecelia said without hesitation. "He can track it. I'll give you an old one of mine that's not in your name."
Jessica hesitated, staring at her phone lying on the nightstand. That device was her only connection to the outside world — but Cecelia was right. Spencer King had eyes everywhere.
By noon, everything was ready. The duffel bag was tucked under the couch, a disguise cap folded neatly on top. Cecelia glanced at her watch. "We'll leave at two. You'll take the back staircase and go straight to the bus station, not the train — less surveillance there. I'll come with you to make sure you get on safely."
Jessica nodded, but unease churned in her stomach. Every tick of the clock made her heartbeat louder.
The Knock
At 1:15, they were sitting in the living room, the TV playing on low volume to mask their whispers. Jessica's duffel was within arm's reach. She told herself it was almost time — almost time to slip away before Spencer could arrive.
Then came the knock.
A sharp, deliberate knock.
Jessica froze.
Cecelia glanced at her, then toward the door. "Who the hell—"
The knock came again, louder this time.
Jessica's chest constricted. Her mind flashed back to his words: I'll pick you up tomorrow.
It couldn't be him. It was too early.
Cecelia motioned for her to stay put and walked toward the door. She peered through the peephole — and went pale. She turned back slowly, her lips parting in disbelief.
"It's him," she mouthed.
Jessica's blood ran cold.
The Confrontation
The third knock wasn't a knock at all — it was the sound of the door handle turning.
Before Cecelia could react, the door swung open. Spencer King stepped inside, flanked by two men in black suits. The air in the apartment seemed to thin instantly.
Jessica stood, her pulse pounding in her ears. He was wearing a charcoal suit, his presence filling the room with an oppressive weight. His gaze swept over her, lingering for a fraction of a second on the duffel bag by the couch.
His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Going somewhere, Miss Cooper?"
Jessica's mouth went dry. "You're early."
"I don't like waiting," Spencer said smoothly, stepping further into the room. His eyes locked onto hers — sharp, assessing, and unreadable. "And it seems I had a good reason."
Cecelia stepped forward, her arms crossed. "You can't just barge in here—"
His gaze flicked to her, cold enough to freeze her mid-sentence. "This doesn't concern you. I suggest you stay out of it."
Cecelia's jaw clenched, but she stayed put, her eyes burning with defiance.
Spencer turned back to Jessica, his tone deceptively calm. "Do you really think you can disappear from Summer City without me knowing? Without me… finding you?"
Jessica lifted her chin, even though her knees felt like they might give out. "You have no right to decide what I do with my life."
His expression didn't change, but his voice dropped, quiet and dangerous. "When it involves my child, I have every right."
Her stomach twisted. "You mean our child," she corrected, forcing the words out.
Something flickered in his eyes, gone before she could name it. "Get your coat," he ordered. "We're going to the hospital."
"I'm not going anywhere." Her voice trembled, but she held his gaze.
For a moment, the room was utterly still. Then he took a slow step toward her, his height casting a shadow over her. "You think this is a negotiation?"
"It's my body, Spencer," she shot back, surprising even herself with the strength in her tone. "And I'm keeping this baby. Whether you like it or not."
His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching. "You're making a mistake."
Jessica's heart pounded so loudly she thought it might break the silence. "Maybe. But it's my mistake to make."
Spencer stared at her for a long, tense moment. Then, without looking away, he addressed the men behind him. "Take the bag."
One of the men moved toward the couch, grabbing the duffel. Cecelia lunged forward. "You can't just—"
The other man stepped between them, his hand out in warning.
Jessica felt her chest tighten as she watched her last chance at escape disappear into Spencer's possession.
He turned toward the door, then looked back at her, his voice lower but carrying enough steel to cut through the air. "You have until I reach the car to decide if you're coming willingly. If not…" His gaze swept over Cecelia before returning to Jessica. "I won't be so polite next time."
With that, he stepped into the hallway, the men in black following.
Jessica's knees gave out, and she sank onto the couch, gasping for air. Cecelia crouched beside her. "Jess—"
But Jessica shook her head, her eyes fixed on the door where Spencer had disappeared. Her heart was still racing, but beneath the fear was something else — something dangerous.
Determination.
Because if Spencer King thought this was over, he was wrong.