She left by an early train, a small bag packed with cash, a passport, and the realization that in the public mind, she was either a sham or a spectacle. She did not want to be either.
The town she chose smelled of salt and laundry and new paint. She found a cheap room over a bakery and sat on the bed until morning stretched the city into a line of possibilities. Her hands shook when she made coffee. She felt hollow and outrage and a sharp, impossible bloom of fear in the center of her that had nothing to do with scandal and everything to do with the knowledge that she was changing.
The pregnancy test was an accident. She had not planned the choice or the consequence, only the instinct to protect herself. When two lines appeared, so stark and impossible, it felt like a small stern miracle. Her reaction was not the cinematic gasp one might read in novels: it was a wild, sudden flood of modern details—insurance forms, a mother who could not know, rent due in three weeks.
She thought of the slap, of Adrian's hand. She thought of the vow they had signed like a bandage. She had married for reasons that could be tactical; pregnancy changed the calculus. It made her wary of his ranching ego and protective of what grew inside her.
She would not be anyone's pawn.
Renée found her within a week—part detection, part loyalty. She hugged Mei like someone mending a bruise with towels. "We'll keep you," Renée said, which was less a promise than a plan. The small group they gathered—veteran girlfriends, Mei's childhood friend, a nurse who owed Renée a favor—formed a soft wall around her, a constant of people who believed she deserved safety.
Cliffhanger: A private investigator working for Liao Holdings traces Mei to the town. Adrian sends a single message: I want to fix this. Let me try.