Chapter 2202
Chelsea hadn’t run away just to be with Jason. There was another reason gnawing at her—a reason she rarely said aloud. The suffocating air of her parents’ house had finally become more than she could bear.
Since she’d entered her mid-twenties, every conversation with them felt like a broken record. Either they pressured her about marriage, or they compared her to some cousin who already had a glowing career and a chubby grandbaby on the way.
In the end, she packed her life into two suitcases, rented a modest loft, and moved in with Jason. She found an ordinary nine-to-five job, and to her surprise, the steady routine made her feel as light as a kite drifting over an open field.
That night, she tugged the blanket over her shoulders and drifted back to sleep, completely unaware that across town, her parents lay wide-eyed in the dark, their racing heartbeats ticking in time with the bedroom clock.
Kingston paced the rug as though trying to grind his worry into the floorboards. “So this is your perfect daughter!” he shouted, his voice cracking with frustration.
Phoebe rolled her eyes, arms folded tightly across her chest. “Oh, please. As if she isn’t yours too.”
Kingston opened his mouth, but no words came. His breath soured into helpless silence.
“What are we supposed to do now?” he demanded, slicing the air with his palms. “We can’t just watch Jason ruin her life.”
Phoebe’s shoulders slumped. A sigh escaped before she could stop it.
“You know how stubborn Chelsea is,” she said, staring into the pitch-black window. “Once she’s decided on something, nothing moves her. Are we supposed to drag her home in ropes?”
Drag her home…
The idea flickered in Kingston’s eyes like a struck match. “Maybe we should,” he said darkly. “We can’t risk her giving that boy a child, can we?”
Because if Chelsea carried Jason’s baby, tearing the two apart would be nearly impossible.
Morning arrived pale and uncertain, as if even the sun wasn’t sure whose side to take.
Chelsea woke before her alarm, swallowed a quick breakfast, and headed out, steam from her coffee curling behind her in the hallway.
She had barely stepped beyond the residential gates—and was still scrolling for a rideshare—when a black van glided to a stop beside her, its tinted windows swallowing her reflection.
Three suited bodyguards poured out, boots striking the pavement like iron hammers. Before she could process the danger, strong hands seized her arms and lifted her off the ground.
“Help! Somebody—help!” she screamed, her voice shredding the cold air.
The lead guard clamped a gloved hand over her mouth. “Forgive us, Miss,” he said calmly. “You won’t be harmed.”
The respectful address forced Chelsea to steady her breathing. Her pulse slowed just enough for him to release her mouth—though the van was already pulling away from the curb.
She studied their faces, suddenly recognizing them from childhood parties and holiday photographs. “You’re from my family’s security team, aren’t you?” Her voice tightened. “Did my parents send you?”
The leader gave a single, heavy nod.
Her brows knit. “Where are you taking me?”
“Sir and Madam instructed us to escort you home,” he replied.
The realization hit like ice water. She slammed her palms against the locked door. “I’m not going back. Let me out—now!”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” he said without meeting her eyes. “We have our orders. We can’t allow you to leave the vehicle.”
Her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. “How can they do this?” The words trembled with fury.
The van slowed at a red light.
Chelsea seized the moment. She yanked the door handle, shoved the door open, and hurled herself out before fear could anchor her in place. Momentum threw her forward. She landed hard on the asphalt, the impact exploding through her body in a dull, brutal thud.
Almost mockingly, the light turned green.
“Ah—my leg!” she screamed, her cry slicing through horns and humming engines.
Unaware she had escaped the back seat, the driver tapped the accelerator—then slammed the brakes, his heart leaping into his throat.
The lead bodyguard bolted out and scooped Chelsea into his arms, panic flashing behind his mirrored lenses.
“Hospital. Now—step on it!” he barked.
Blood dotted her arms and legs. Her left thigh throbbed as though bone had been crushed, cold sweat glazing her skin.
The driver and the remaining guards stood frozen, terror locking their faces.
Shaking, the bodyguard pulled out his phone and called Kingston to report the disaster.
Across town, Jason was settling into his cubicle when an HR clerk from Chelsea’s company called to ask why she hadn’t clocked in. He tried calling her immediately—but her phone was powered off, unreachable.