The Morning I Finally Took My Life Back—And the Secret My Ex-Husband Tried to Destroy

Three men dressed in dark tactical raincoats stepped out of the SUV, their faces obscured by the glare of the headlights.

Kieran turned white as paper. "She tracked my car. She knew I came down here."

"I thought you said you were going to protect me," I whispered bitterly, backing toward the rear service door of the gatehouse.

"Freya, wait—" Kieran reached for my arm, but I ducked under his grip, threw open the back door, and sprinted out into the freezing downpour.

Behind me, the front door of the gatehouse splintered under a heavy boot. Shouts echoed into the night, followed by the dull thud of a physical struggle. Kieran screamed, a high-pitched sound of raw terror that was abruptly cut short.

I didn't look back. I ran through the manicured hedges, cutting across the expansive, rolling lawn toward the dark perimeter woods that bordered the estate. Cold rain lashed my face, blinding me, but the sheer adrenaline surging through my veins kept my boots driving into the slick mud.

A beam of blinding white light swept across the grass, pinning me in its glare.

"Stop right there, Mrs. Abernathy!" a harsh, amplified voice called out from behind. "Don't make this messy!"

I plunged into the tree line just as a suppressed gunshot cracked through the wet leaves above my head, showering me with shredded pine needles. They weren't using rubber bullets. They weren't trying to capture me.

Eleanor was tying up every loose end tonight.

I scrambled down a steep, rocky embankment, tearing my coat against the brambles, and hit the shallow creek bed at the bottom. The freezing water soaked through my boots, sending sharp shocks of pain up my calves.

I pulled my secondary burner phone from my waterproof pocket and pressed speed-dial.

"Marcus! They’re shooting! The gatehouse is compromised!"

"I saw the SUV!" Marcus’s voice crackled through the static. "I’m at the north service gate, three hundred yards past the old stone bridge! Can you reach it?"

"I'm in the ravine," I panted, scrambling over slippery boulders in the dark. "There are at least two men behind me with night-vision gear!"

"Keep low! I have the live stream running to seven different media newsrooms right now, Freya! The moment they broadcast the feed, Eleanor can't touch you without triggering an immediate national alert!"

Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed the collar of my coat from behind, yanking me backward into the mud.

My phone flew from my hand, splashing into the dark creek.

I kicked violently, driving the heel of my heavy boot into the knee of the man holding me. He grunted in pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to twist around. In the faint moonlight filtering through the bare branches, I saw the cold, scarred face of Eleanor’s chief security operative—a man named Vance Campbell.