Chapter 34

Esther’s POV

I had once believed the hardest part of leaving Nicholas behind was the first time, fleeing with nothing but my unborn children.

My legs had carried me through the woods, the city streets, and the cold nights, dragging me forward with hope tethered to sheer survival. I had thought I could leave him, thought the distance would be enough.

I was wrong.

The hardest part was now. Now, when every morning I was greeted with the cold truth.

I was still shackled to him, even from afar. Not by chains, not by walls, but by the invisible hand that reached into every corner of my life, turning opportunity into impossibility.

It began with whispers. Shopkeepers who had once greeted me warmly now turned away as I asked about postings. The seamstress who had trusted me to mend her son’s wounds now crossed the street when I appeared, eyes downcast, murmuring excuses.

At first, I tried to tell myself it was simple gossip. The way women in the market loved to chatter about Kevin’s “mysterious mistress” and her “bastard children” was a way to pass the time.

But then it happened again. And again.

Every door I knocked on closed before I could step inside. Every opportunity slipped like water through my fingers. I began to sense it like a subtle pressure against my back, the world tilting just enough to keep me from steady footing.

And tonight, the truth revealed itself with a sharpness that cut deeper than any blade.

I stood before the apothecary who had posted up signs looking for help. I even had one in my pocket.

When I asked, his face went pale.

“Esther,” he said, voice tight, lips pressed into a thin line. “You know I respect you. But… I can’t. Not now.”

“Why not?” I pressed, voice brittle, splitting like glass. “You said you needed help. Last week, you said so yourself.”

He wrung his hands nervously. “I can’t explain… Just—please, don’t come back. It’s not safe for me if I hire you.”

The words landed like a hammer to my chest.

By the time I reached home, fury throbbed in me.

Sofia sat at the table, legs swinging, humming to herself, a tiny anchor in my storm. Carl lay on the couch, a thin blanket draped over him, eyes following me with the kind of awareness no child his age should possess.

“Did you find work?” Carl asked quietly, voice small.

I forced a smile, brittle as porcelain. “Not today.”

Sofia pouted, lower lip trembling. “But you promised me new paints for my drawings.”

I knelt beside her, brushing the hair from her face, trying to hide the panic behind calm words. “I will, sweetheart. Just… not today.”

Her lip quivered, but she nodded. Trying to be brave, even for me. Carl turned his face away, staring at the wall, silent.

I wanted to scream. To smash something into pieces. Instead, I excused myself, retreating to the bedroom, locking the door before tears could fall.

The next morning, I rose with the sun, jaw set, determination hardening in my chest. If the legitimate world was barred to me, I would carve another path. If I had to survive in shadow, so be it.

I would provide for my children, no matter the cost.

The market was alive with morning bustle. There were screaming vendors, haggling customers, and the smell of bread and smoke mingled in the cold air. I ignored the glances, the whispers, the children pulled close to their mothers as I passed.

“She’s cursed.”

“She’ll bring trouble to anyone who hires her.”

“She should have left when she had the chance.”

I ignored them all. I had to.

A tacked noticeboard caught my eye at the back of a dim tavern. Nothing official, just hand-scribbled offers, some desperate, some shady. One stood out: Work available. Quick pay. Ask for Brenn.

I tracked the name to a warehouse at the edge of town. The air inside was thick with rot and smoke, cloying and suffocating. Brenn, squat and greasy-haired, looked me up and down with appraising eyes that made my skin crawl.

“You’re desperate,” he said flatly. “I can see it. That’ll make you cheap.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, but I swallowed it. “What’s the work?”

“Carrying, cleaning, a bit of bookkeeping if you can read,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Nothing fancy.”

It wasn’t honest work. It wasn’t safe work. But it was work.

I nodded. “I’ll take it.”

The first week passed in a blur of aching muscles and sweat. I hauled crates, scrubbed grime from ledgers I barely understood, swept floors that felt permanent in their filth. The pay was paltry but enough for bread, medicine, a few paints for Sofia, secondhand, but still something.

Brenn’s attention made me uneasy. He brushed past me, lingering, eyes darkening when I looked his way. At first, I tried to ignore it. I’d survived worse. I could endure this.

Then came the cornering.

Brenn leaned too close, breath hot and foul, muttering about what he “wanted” from me in exchange for keeping me employed. My stomach twisted in revulsion.

I slapped him. Hard.

The sound cracked across the warehouse. Silence fell. For a heartbeat, everything froze.

Then Brenn’s face contorted into a snarl.

“You’ll regret that,” he hissed.

I didn’t wait to hear more. I ripped the apron from my body, threw it at his feet, and stormed into the street with my head held high.

Better broke than broken.

By the time I reached home, exhaustion weighed on me, limbs trembling. I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. Nicholas’s shadow loomed everywhere. He had shut me out of honest work. He had forced me into the arms of predators like Brenn. And yet I had refused to crawl back to him.

But as I lay in the dim room, listening to Sofia humming in the next room and Carl coughing softly, the thought crept in unbidden, sinister: How long could I hold out?

How long before hunger, illness, or sheer misfortune forced me to return to him?

Every day was a battle. Every door that closed behind me, every glance of suspicion, every whispered warning reminded me that I was never truly free.

I would not bow. I would not let the invisible hand win. I would find another way, even if it meant wading through shadow, danger, and despair.

I would fight for Carl. For Sofia. For myself.