Now, thanks to the different cards, I have almost twenty thousand in cash, most of which I store in my bank safety deposit box, along with my flashy diamond engagement ring and my wedding band. I briefly consider pawning them, even though the very thought makes me nauseous, but I still force myself to slip them off and leave them in the security box. The weight of their absence is a stark reminder of everything I've lost.
I haven’t used this box since I married Niko, thinking I was finally secure, but now I'm glad my mother insisted I keep all the ID and the passport I retained in the name Emylyah Bascov. Even as distraught as I am, I’m not so far gone that I don’t know it’s a mistake to parade myself around as Lyah Radaeva now I don’t have the benefit of security.
I leave the bank with two goals in mind. Get a new power charger for my phone and work out how to get to Gabi. At least the first is simple, even if I don’t have anywhere to plug it in just yet.
My phone chimes and pings as I power it on to search for flights, and I hold my breath, half-expecting a barrage of messages from Niko. But there’s nothing from him. I guess he really is done with me.
His silence is both a relief and a fresh wound, but I push down the ache and focus on my next move.
A quick search reveals no direct flights to the remote island where Gabi works. If she’s even there. She married recently. Another thing to be sad I missed. I try not to consider if she’s not on Elysium, because the alternative means she’s not even in the country, but in England. I can’t cope with that right now.
As it stands, I'll still need to piece something together since there appears to be no public or unauthorized means of transport to the exclusive resort. Another search shows no vacancies either, so I can’t slip in that way.
At least the domestic flight from JFK airport to Miami is simple enough and it costs less than $100 for the economy ticket I buy. It’s different from what I’m used to, but I can live without luxury. I’ve never been pretentious like that, regardless of my lavish lifestyle. There are more important things in life.
I gather my meager belongings and head to the airport, anxiety churning in my stomach. The bustle of travelers feels overwhelming after the isolation I’m used to and the bodyguards who keep everyone at arm’s length, so I keep my head down, feeling slightly paranoid.
At the gate, I curl up in an uncomfortable plastic chair, cradling my phone. I need a plan to reach Gabi, but my mind is foggy with exhaustion and fear. The pregnancy nausea, which seems to have suddenly made itself known, doesn't help either.
On top of all that, I’m worried about putting Gabi in Niko’s line of fire after she supplied the marriage certificate that sparked this whole shitstorm, so I’m cautious about using the email address Niko obviously monitors.
As passengers start boarding, a flash of inspiration hits me. I pull up the Elysium Resort website, scanning for any hint of how to contact staff. There, at the bottom of the page, is a tiny ‘customer service’ link, so I make myself a brand-new email address and use it to send a message to Gabi, letting her know I’m on my way to Miami, and asking her to help organize transport from there.
All I can do now is pray she gets it.
As I settle into my cramped economy seat, the gravity of my situation hits me all over again. I'm alone, pregnant, and fleeing from the only life I've known. The cabin pressure changes as we take off, and my ears pop painfully. Out of the window, I watch the city getting smaller and it feels symbolic somehow - like I'm leaving behind not just New York, but my entire identity.
The elderly woman next to me smiles kindly, offering a piece of gum. "First time flying, dear?" she asks, noticing my white-knuckled grip on the armrests.
"No," I mumble, accepting the gum gratefully and hoping it will help equalize the pressure in my eardrums. "Just... a lot on my mind."
She nods sympathetically, then turns back to her book. I envy her calm, wishing I could lose myself in a story right now. Instead, my mind races with possibilities and fears.
What if Gabi doesn't get my message? What if I can’t find a way onto the island? And even if I do reach her, what then? Will she be able to get hold of this Zack Kincaid guy that fast? I really didn’t think this through properly. My mind seems to have defaulted to taking one step without any plan for what to do after that.
Well, it’s too late now, I’m on my way. But I guess a cheap, crappy motel in Miami is as good as one in Brooklyn.
Inevitably, my thoughts lead me back to the tiny life growing inside me and sends a wave of protective instinct through my body. I rest a hand on the tiny bump that still doesn’t look much like a baby, trying to imagine the changes that will come, and a surge of determination washes over me. No matter what happens, I have to stay strong for this child. It deserves better than the chaos I grew up with or the turmoil Niko has thrown us into.
My thoughts are interrupted as the flight attendant's voice crackles over the intercom, announcing our descent into Miami. “Will passengers please return to their seats and ensure all carry-on luggage is stowed. Please fasten your seatbelts and return tray tables to the upright position. We will be landing at Miami International Airport shortly.”
I rest my forehead on the scratched plexiglass as the city unfurls beneath us, a patchwork of aquamarine pools, neon roofs, and bright green palms. The sun glances off mirrored skyscrapers and scatters across the bay. The heat almost shimmers off the tarmac even from up here, promising a humidity that will cling to my skin like unwelcome hands.
All around me, children squeal with excitement, pressing their faces to the glass, pointing out cruise ships or the blue rectangles of hotel pools.
My pulse thunders as wheels screech down on the runway, watching palm trees whip by as we slow and taxi toward the terminal.
As soon as we park at the gate, everyone springs up in frantic impatience, ready for their holidays or meetings, or whatever else they’re here for. I just wait until most are gone before inching into the aisle. I'm already sweating, but not all of it is because of the heat.
No, part of my mind is calculating escape routes. Every new location means unfamiliar threats. Niko has enemies everywhere, and I’m not that far from home.
The moment I step off the jetway, competing scents assail me and I fight not to gag - espresso, bleach, perfume, diesel. The chaos of arrivals blares at me from every direction: families arguing over suitcases, businessmen shouting into Bluetooth, toddlers dragging plush animals by their ears. Overhead, an LED board cycles through names and statuses in relentless order. It’s pretty overwhelming and all I can think about is how exposed I feel. I've never navigated an airport alone before, always whisked through VIP lounges and private entrances. Now, I'm just another face in the sea of travelers, clutching my duffel bag like a lifeline. Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I remind myself that anonymity is exactly what I need right now.
As soon as I’m clear of the chaos, I pull out my phone and power it on, praying for a response from Gabi. Nothing. The knot in my stomach tightens as I follow the crowd out of the terminal.
“You can do this,” I tell myself, somehow comforted by the sound of my own voice.
When I step outside, the oppressive Miami heat hits me like a wall and perspiration immediately beads on my forehead. I scan the sea of taxis and shuttles, trying not to feel lost and overwhelmed. My pep-talk didn’t last long.
