It was 2:00 AM. The rain battered the East Wing windows.
Victoria lay in the bed, feigning sleep. She had palmed the sedative pill Elena had given her, hiding it under her tongue.
Beside her, William slept in the armchair. He was holding her hand, his head resting on the mattress. He looked exhausted, a man trying to hold back the tide with his bare hands. He had burned the paternity test. He loved her. She knew that now.
But his love wasn’t enough to stop the machine of the Croft legacy. If she stayed, they would drug her. They would cut the baby out of her. And Beatrice would take it.
She had to break his heart to save their child.
Victoria slowly, painfully extracted her hand from William’s grip. He stirred but didn’t wake.
She slid out of bed, grabbing her coat and shoes. She moved silently to the French doors, the ones with the lock William thought only he had the key to–but she had stolen the spare from his dresser while he slept.
She stepped out into the storm. The wind whipped her hair across her face.
She ran to the service gate, where a black sedan was idling in the shadows. The window rolled down. Dominic Valerius looked out, his face grim.
Victoria opened the door and climbed in, shivering violently. She looked back at the Manor, at the dark window where her husband was sleeping, guarding an empty bed.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, tears mixing with the rain on her face. “Get me out of here.”
Dominic nodded and hit the gas. As the car disappeared into the night.