Page 60 of His By Contract
“Come here, baby.” Evelyn reached out, her arms open and waiting. The moment Georgia felt her mother’s embrace, something inside her shattered. The tears came silently at first, just the trembling of her shoulders against Evelyn’s chest. Then the sobs broke free, rough and unrestrained, the pressure finally finding release.
Georgia clutched at her mother’s sweater, pressing her face into the familiar softness of her shoulder. “I can’t keep fighting,” she whispered between ragged breaths. “Everything I build falls apart. The business, my designs, my reputation—it all crumbles. I tried so hard to prove I belonged in his world, but I don’t. I never did.”
Evelyn rocked her gently, one hand stroking Georgia’s hair, the other rubbing slow circles on her back. The gesture was so achingly familiar, the same comfort she’d offered when Georgia skinned her knees or faced playground bullies. Georgia feltherself becoming that little girl again, seeking shelter in her mother’s arms.
“I love him,” Georgia choked out. “But loving him makes him weak. They’re using me to hurt him. And I can’t—I can’t be the reason his empire falls. I can’t watch everything he built crumble because of me.” Each admission came between hitching breaths, each truth more painful than the last.
The tears gradually slowed, leaving Georgia’s cheeks wet and hot. She pulled back slightly, wiping at her face with trembling fingers. Embarrassment crept in, but exhaustion won out. She had no energy left for pride. Evelyn’s fingers smoothed Georgia’s hair back from her face, the touch as gentle as it had been when Georgia was small.
“Sometimes, my sweet girl,” Evelyn murmured, “surviving means knowing when to let go. Even when it’s messy. Even when it hurts more than anything.”
Georgia pulled away from her mother’s embrace, swiping at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. Her spine straightened, shoulders squaring as she forced her breathing to steady. A fragile smile curved her lips, more for her mother’s benefit than any real feeling behind it.
“I’ll be okay.” The words came out stronger than she felt. “I just need to find somewhere quiet for a while. Somewhere I can…” She swallowed hard. “Somewhere I can breathe again.”
She reached for her bag, pulling out a small stack of prepaid cards. “I bought these today. They’re loaded with enough to last me months.” The plastic caught the light as she turned them over. “No one can trace them. No paper trail.” Her voice dropped. “No way for anyone to find me.”
The duffel bag felt heavier as she lifted it, settling the strap across her shoulder. The weight of everything she owned, everything she could safely carry, pressed against her side. Her mother’s hand reached out, catching hers in a final grasp. The warmth of that touch nearly undid her composure.
Georgia squeezed back once, memorizing the feeling of her mother’s fingers wrapped around hers. Then she let go, each finger uncurling with deliberate care. If she held on any longer, the tears would start again, and she wasn’t sure she’d find the strength to leave.
The hallway stretched before her as she walked out, her footsteps echoing against sterile walls. She didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. The air outside hit her skin like a slap, but she welcomed the sharp bite of cold. It helped clear her head, helped remind her why this was necessary.
Adrian would be stronger without her. His empire would stand, unshakeable, once she was gone. That thought had to be enough to keep her moving forward.
Georgia drew in one deep breath, letting it out slowly. The grief settled in her chest like a stone, heavy and permanent. But she’d learned to carry heavy things before. She could learn again.
CHAPTER 19
Three years later…
Georgia’s fingers guided the worn denim under the presser foot, the familiar hum of the sewing machine filling the cramped back room of Stitch & Save. Dust motes danced in the thin beam of sunlight that filtered through the grimy window, catching on loose threads and fabric remnants scattered across her workspace. The jacket beneath her hands had seen better days: frayed edges, a torn pocket, patches wearing thin at the elbows.
Her muscles moved on autopilot, years of practice making each stitch precise despite the persistent ache in her joints from yesterday’s double shift at the diner. The rhythm steadied her, each pass of the needle through fabric creating a meditation of sorts. No complex designs here, no delicate beadwork or intricate patterns. Just simple repairs, honest work that kept clothes wearable for people who couldn’t afford new ones.
The boutique’s morning quiet wrapped around her like a familiar blanket. Only Doris’s occasional muttering from thestockroom broke the silence, probably sorting through the latest donation boxes. Georgia preferred these early hours, before customers started trickling in with their mending needs and worried expressions.
Threading another needle, Georgia’s mind drifted back to mornings in the penthouse, surrounded by silk and chiffon instead of secondhand cotton. Three years felt both eternal and instant; a lifetime ago she’d been Georgia Adler, every movement scrutinized, every choice weighted with consequence. The ghost of Adrian still clung to her skin sometimes, an unseen burden of his watchful eyes and iron will that had once ruled her every breath.
The first months after leaving had felt like learning to breathe again. No photographers tracking her steps, no social obligations suffocating her schedule, no careful calculations behind every word she spoke. She’d thought simple anonymity would be enough, that she could piece together something real from the fragments of her old life.
Then came the morning sickness, the missed period, the drugstore test that changed everything. Georgia’s hands stilled on the fabric as she remembered that moment: staring at those two pink lines, understanding that freedom wasn’t just about her anymore. Her child needed more than just his mother’s desperate bid for independence.
Georgia’s hands smoothed the denim as Theo’s face flashed in her mind; his bright smile, those eyes that looked so much like Adrian’s it hurt sometimes. Everything had shifted the moment she’d held him in her arms that first time. Her world narrowed to a single purpose: keeping him safe, protected from the sharks that circled the Adler name.
The familiar panic crept up her spine whenever she thought about being discovered. One photo, one wrong move, and everything she’d built would crumble. No official employment records, no credit cards, no social media. She’d erased herself as thoroughly as she could. Each under-the-table job felt like another layer of protection, another degree of separation between her son and the world she’d left.
The life in Adrian’s penthouse felt like a fever dream now. Sometimes she caught herself staring at her callused hands, remembering how they once sketched designs for thousand-dollar dresses instead of patching worn jeans. The whisper of silk against her skin, the burst of camera lights, Adrian’s domineering shadow—it all felt like scenes from another woman’s life.
A nagging thought interrupted her stitching. Theo had complained about his shoes pinching during dinner, trying to hide his discomfort behind a brave smile. She’d noticed him walking on the sides of his feet, the soles flapping loose at the edges. Her stomach clenched as she mentally counted the cash hidden in various spots around their apartment. Thirty behind the loose bathroom tile, forty-five tucked into an old coffee tin, maybe twenty in her work apron.
The thrift store had a decent children’s section. If she was lucky, she might find something that would last more than a few months. But the rent was due next week, and the grocery money was already stretched thin. She’d have to cut back somewhere, maybe skip lunch for a few days, water down the milk a little more.
The thud of fabric hitting her workstation startled Georgia from her calculations. Doris dropped a pile of clothes beside her.
“These need hemming by tomorrow.” Doris’s voice carried its usual gruffness. “The blue dress has a tear in the sleeve too.”
Georgia forced her lips into a smile, gathering the clothes into her to-do pile. “I’ll take care of it.”
