Brought By Destiny

Chapter 10

The Calm and the Storm

Lilly’s POV:

I knew I couldn't stay. I decided to leave directly from the police station to begin the process of reclaiming my life. I had called Jazz and Andy earlier to explain the situation; I asked Jazz to take Ryan for the day while Andy came to pick me up.

For a long time, I thought they were the only two people in this massive world I could count on. Now, I realize there is a third. Michael did so much for me, more than most men would ever do for a stranger.

He saved me and my son when we had nowhere else to go. But precisely because he had done so much, I felt it was better to leave his home for good. His parents were due back in a few days, and I didn't want to be a burden or a source of scandal. I spent three days in a stranger's house, bared my soul to him, and even lied to the federal authorities by claiming he was my boyfriend. It was surreal, but I believe everything happens for a reason.

"Here... hold your coffee," Jeni said, sitting beside me on the sofa at Andy’s place.

"So, how did it go with the cops?" she asked, taking a sip from her mug.

I took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the coffee settle my nerves. "It went well. They believed my lies and the truth," I sighed.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, looking confused.

"The truth about the abuse from my stepfather, and the lie about Michael being my boyfriend," I said with a small, weary chuckle.
Jeni laughed softly and nodded.

"Are they still searching for Anthony?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

My face fell as I nodded. The thought of him still being out there was a shadow that wouldn't lift.

"Andy mentioned you need a job,"
Jeni said with a supportive smile.
"I have a place for you... if you’re interested."

"Jeni, I’ll owe you my life if you can find me work," I said urgently.

"Don't be dramatic!" she laughed.

"My cousin, Flora, owns a bakery. I’ll tell her all about you, and then you can go and meet her."

"That would be amazing!" I replied, feeling a wave of relief.

The next few days were a whirlwind. I returned to my house and found it in shambles everything had been tossed and turned upside down by the intruders. It took a full day of scrubbing and organizing to make it feel like home again.

Then, I met Flora. She was just as sweet as Jeni and immediately hired me as a receptionist.

I finally felt empowered enough to file charges against Steven and his father. Their café was shut down, and both were arrested for sexual harassment. For the first time, I felt the scales of justice tipping in my favor.

A week passed. Life was becoming normal. I brought Ryan back home, enrolled him in a nearby playgroup, and began to truly breathe again.

Today is Sunday, and I decided to celebrate by cooking a special lunch. Ryan requested chicken curry, so I was busy in the kitchen mixing the batter for the chicken.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I checked the clock, wondering who would visit unannounced at this hour. I washed my hands and opened the door. My heart did a nervous little flutter when I saw who was standing there.

"Hi!" Michael said, a bright smile on his face.

Before I could even find my voice, Ryan came sprinting down the hall. "Bubby!" he screamed, launching himself at Michael.

"Hey, my little munchkin!" Michael caught him, hoisting him into the air with hugs and kisses.

"I mish you cho mash..." Ryan mumbled, kissing Michael’s cheek.

"I missed you too," Michael replied, his eyes shining. He looked over at me. "May I come in?"

"Oh! I’m so sorry, yes, please," I said sheepishly, stepping aside to let him in. We moved into the living room and settled on the sofa.

"So, have you been busy?" he asked.

"A little. I was just preparing lunch," I said with a small smile.

"You never thought of calling me? It's been a whole week," he said, and for a moment, he actually sounded hurt.

I felt a pang of guilt. The truth was, whenever he was around, I felt a strange, electric tension that I didn't know how to handle. Staying away felt safer.

But I could never forget what he did for us. "I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"I'm not forgiving you," he teased, his eyes dancing. "Unless... you let me have some of that chicken you're making."

"How did you even know I was making chicken?" I asked, shocked.

"Babe, the fragrance is so good it reached the street," he laughed.

"Okay, so if I feed you, I'm forgiven?" I asked innocently.

"Your apology will be accepted based strictly on the taste," he chuckled.

I nodded, smiling back. Michael stayed the entire day. We watched movies, played video games, and simply enjoyed each other's company. Before he left that night, we finally exchanged phone numbers.

After putting Ryan to bed, I was in the kitchen cleaning up the last of the dishes. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the hallway.

What was that? My heart began to race. I crept into the hallway and saw that the front door was still locked, but the flower pot beside the shoe rack had been knocked over, spilling dirt across the floor.

I knelt down to clean it up, scooping the mud back into the pot with trembling hands. Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I felt a cold presence behind me.

Before I could turn around, something heavy and hard struck the back of my head. Pain exploded in my skull, and the world vanished into darkness.

When I finally regained consciousness, a dim, flickering light blinded me. I tried to move, but my hands and feet were bound tightly. I was in a cold, dark room with nothing but a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Panic surged through me. Where am I? Where is Ryan? The thought of my son being alone or in danger made me want to scream, but my throat felt tight with terror.

The door creaked open, and the man I feared most stepped inside. He was carrying a bag, which he dropped carelessly before kneeling in front of me. I wasn't afraid for my own life, but the thought of what would happen to Ryan if I died was unbearable.

"You filthy bitch! You told everything to the police. How dare you?" Anthony hissed. He lunged forward, his fingers clamping around my throat.

I gasped for air, my vision swimming as he squeezed. I struggled against my bonds, but it was useless. He looked at me with nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred. Finally, he released his grip, and I slumped over, coughing violently.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a heavy leather belt. He stepped closer, a sadistic glint in his eyes, and began to strike me. He hit me "black and blue," the world dissolving into a haze of pain until, mercifully, I passed out once again.