Elena's POV
"You're making a mistake."
Moira's words echo in my head as I step off the plane in Shanghai, six months pregnant and carrying everything I own in two suitcases.
Maybe I am making a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed in New York, accepted Moira's training, become the weapon she wanted me to be.
But I couldn't.
Because becoming her weapon meant staying close to Adrian. To Vanessa. To everything that broke me. And my baby deserves better than a mother consumed by revenge.
My baby deserves peace.
Even if peace means starting over in a foreign country where I don't speak the language and don't know a single person.
The airport is overwhelming. Signs in Chinese I can't read. Crowds pushing past me. The humid air making my pregnant body sweat immediately.
I find a quiet corner and sit down, trying not to cry.
I made it three minutes before the tears start.
"Stupid," I whisper to myself. "So stupid. What are you doing here, Elena?"
I left New York six months ago with Moira's money—the hundred thousand dollars she gave me to "disappear." I told her I needed time to think. She told me I was wasting my potential.
"You could be powerful," she said. "Instead, you're choosing to hide."
Maybe I am hiding. But after going viral as #PregnantAndRejected, after watching my life become a joke on social media, after seeing Adrian and Vanessa's engagement announcement three months ago—hiding sounds pretty good.
My phone buzzes. Email from Moira. She sends one every week, like clockwork.
The offer still stands. Come back. Stop running.
I delete it without responding. Like I've deleted the last twenty-six emails.
My stomach cramps suddenly, hard enough to make me gasp. The baby kicks—strong, angry kicks that say they're just as overwhelmed as I am.
"I know, baby girl," I whisper, rubbing my belly. "I know this is scary. But we're going to be okay. I promise."
It's a lie. I have no idea if we'll be okay.
But I'm trying.
The coffee shop is small and quiet, tucked away from the tourist areas. I found it by accident, desperately searching for somewhere with air conditioning and a bathroom.
I order tea I can't pronounce and sit by the window, watching Shanghai rush past. It's so different from New York. Faster somehow. More alive.
Or maybe that's just how the world looks when you're not drowning anymore.
My phone buzzes again. This time, it's a news alert.
WOLFE ENTERPRISES ANNOUNCES MERGER WITH CHASE TECHNOLOGIES. CEO ADRIAN WOLFE TO MARRY VANESSA CHASE IN PRIVATE CEREMONY.
The merger finally went through. Dad's company is gone. Vanessa won completely.
And they're getting married. Not just engaged—actually married. In private, which means it probably already happened.
I stare at the photo attached to the article. Adrian in a suit, looking cold and perfect. Vanessa in white, smiling like she won the lottery.
They look like the perfect couple.
No one would ever guess that six months ago, Adrian got another woman pregnant and threw her away like trash.
The tea tastes bitter in my mouth. I set it down before I throw it across the cafe.
"Are you okay?"
I look up to find a man standing beside my table. Chinese, maybe mid-thirties, with kind eyes and a concerned expression. He's holding a napkin toward me.
"You're crying," he says gently. "I don't mean to intrude, but you look like you could use this."
I take the napkin, embarrassed. I didn't even realize I was crying again.
"Thank you," I manage. "I'm fine. Just... tired."
"You're American?" His English is perfect, barely accented. "Are you traveling alone?"
I should lie. Should say my husband is parking the car or my friends are meeting me soon. But I'm so tired of lying.
"I'm alone," I admit. "Just moved here. Today, actually."
His eyebrows rise. "Today? And you're..." He gestures carefully at my very pregnant belly.
"Six months." I laugh, but it sounds broken. "I know. Great timing, right?"
"May I sit?" He asks it like a real question, not a demand. "I promise I'm not a creep. Just someone who remembers what it's like to be alone in a new city."
Something about his kindness makes me nod.
He sits across from me, ordering something in Chinese from the waitress who appears immediately. Whatever he said makes her smile and bring me a plate of small pastries.
"You need to eat," he says simply. "Pregnancy and crying is not a good combination. Trust me—my sister was pregnant three times. I learned."
I pick up a pastry because refusing feels rude. It's delicious, and I'm hungrier than I realized.
"I'm Marcus Zhang," he says. "And before you ask—yes, my family is wealthy. Yes, I know I shouldn't talk to random pregnant Americans in coffee shops. And yes, I genuinely want to help if you need it."
His honesty is startling. "Why?"
"Because six months ago, someone helped me when I was falling apart. A stranger who didn't have to care but did anyway." Marcus's smile is sad. "My wife died. Cancer. I was lost, angry, ready to destroy myself. A woman I didn't know sat with me in a hospital cafeteria and talked to me until I could breathe again. So now I try to pay it forward when I see someone drowning."
"I'm sorry about your wife."
"I'm sorry about whatever made you move to Shanghai alone and six months pregnant." He pauses. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I shouldn't. He's a stranger. But maybe that's exactly why I can talk to him.
So I do.
I tell him everything. The gala. The drugging. Waking up next to Adrian. The pregnancy. The public rejection. Going viral. Vanessa's victory. Moira's offer that I ran from.
I don't tell him Adrian's name—just call him "someone powerful." Don't tell him about the Morven family. But I tell him enough.
Marcus listens without interrupting. When I finish, he's quiet for a long moment.
"You're brave," he says finally. "Running away isn't cowardice when you're protecting your child. It's survival."
"Moira says I'm wasting my potential. That I should fight back."
"Maybe. Or maybe you're choosing a different kind of strength." Marcus leans forward. "Elena—that's your name, right?—I run a tech company here. Zhang Industries. We're expanding, and I'm always looking for smart people. If you need a job, a place to start, I can help."
"You don't even know me."
"I know you're six months pregnant, alone in a foreign country, and still trying. That's enough." He pulls out a business card. "Think about it. No pressure. But if you want to build something here, away from the people who hurt you, I can give you that chance."
I take the card, reading it through tears. Zhang Industries. Marcus Zhang, CEO.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Because the world is cruel enough. Someone should be kind." He stands, putting money on the table for both our orders. "Call me if you need anything. Even just someone to talk to. You don't have to do this alone."
He walks away before I can respond.
I sit there, holding his business card, feeling something I haven't felt in months.
Hope.
Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can build a life here. Maybe my daughter will grow up safe and loved and far away from the Wolfes and Chases and Morvens.
Maybe peace is possible.
My phone rings. Unknown number with a Chinese area code.
My first instinct is to ignore it. But something makes me answer.
"Elena Morven." The voice is male, sharp, Chinese accent. "Or should I say Elena Chase? Hard to keep track of your names."
My blood runs cold. "Who is this?"
"Someone who knows your grandmother is very angry you ran away. Someone who knows Marcus Zhang just offered you a job." The voice chuckles. "Did you really think you could hide from the Morven family? We have eyes everywhere. Even in Shanghai."
"Leave me alone."
"Soon. But first, a message from your sister." The voice turns icy. "Vanessa says congratulations on the baby. She hopes you enjoy being a single mother. And she wanted you to know that Adrian signed over all parental rights this morning. Legal documents. He officially doesn't want your child."
The words hit like bullets.
"You're lying."
"Check your email. Vanessa had her lawyer send you the papers." A pause. "Oh, and one more thing. The coffee shop you're sitting in? Zhang Industries owns it. Marcus Zhang didn't find you by accident. He was sent to recruit you."
No.
"Moira sent him. She's not giving up on you, Elena. You're too valuable. So you can run all you want, but the Morven family will always find you." The caller laughs. "Welcome to Shanghai. Enjoy your fresh start—while it lasts."
The line goes dead.
I look up, searching for Marcus, but he's gone.
My email notification pings. New message from a law firm.
Subject: Termination of Parental Rights - Adrian Wolfe
I open it with shaking hands.
It's real. Legal documents signed by Adrian, officially giving up all rights to our child. He doesn't want to be a father. Doesn't want any connection to us.
He erased us.
And Marcus—kind, helpful Marcus—was sent by Moira. This whole meeting was planned. I never escaped at all.
I sit in the coffee shop in Shanghai, six months pregnant, holding legal proof that I'm completely alone.
And I realize something.
Peace was never an option.
Moira was right.
The only way out is through power.
I pull out Moira's business card, the one I kept even though I deleted her emails.
I dial her number.
She answers on the first ring. "Ready to stop running?"
"Yes." My voice is steady now. Cold. "I'm ready. Train me. I want them destroyed."
"Good girl." Moira sounds pleased. "I'll have you on a plane back to New York tomorrow. And Elena? Your daughter will be born into power, not poverty. That's my promise."
I hang up and put my hand on my belly.
"I'm sorry, baby girl," I whisper. "I tried to give you peace. But they won't let us have it. So instead, I'm going to give you the world."
Even if I have to burn it down first.