Chapter 7: Out the Door

I didn’t wait for Grandpa Joe to return. I started packing for Maddie and myself, preparing to leave the Hartman house for good.

I wrapped Maddie’s teddy bear in a faded Cubs T-shirt, hoping Chicago would feel like home. My own things fit in two suitcases—clothes, a few books, some photos. The rest I left behind.

The housekeeper, confused, called Jason. When he arrived, the moving van driver was helping me load the last suitcase.

She watched from the window, wringing her hands. When Jason’s BMW pulled in, the driver straightened his cap, bracing for trouble.

Luke’s plane would land in three hours. He would take us away for good.

I checked the flight tracker, my fingers shaking. For the first time in years, hope felt real.

I lost my father young; I know how it feels. A little girl without a father is always bullied, always suffers more. I promised Maddie she’d never feel less than whole.

Jason stepped out of the car, his face grim in the porch light. His jaw ticked, eyes flickering with something I couldn’t name—regret, maybe, or just pride.

Maddie clung to my neck, frightened. I kissed her, then let the housekeeper take her to play.

"Go with Miss Rachel, sweetheart. I’ll be right here." Maddie nodded, but her eyes never left mine.

Once Maddie was gone, Jason approached, brows furrowed, eyes angry.

He stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets. The space between us felt wider than ever.

"Emily, have I indulged you too much all these years?"

He sounded accusatory, but there was something brittle behind it. Maybe, for once, he was afraid.

I smiled faintly. "Thank you for taking care of us."

I meant it. Apart from not loving us, he never treated us badly.

"Think carefully. If you leave the Hartman family, you and Maddie will be nothing."

His voice was low, urgent—as if leaving meant erasing everything we’d been.

"If we stay in the Hartman family, what are we?"

He didn’t answer.

"What else are you dissatisfied with? Other than a title, what haven’t I given you?"

I’d asked myself that for years. The answer was simple: love. Recognition. A place in his world.

Yes, I had him for four years. No other women, a beautiful daughter, and in this house, I was 'the lady of the house.' But outside, I was a plaything, Maddie an illegitimate child. I couldn’t even use her full name outside.

I was tired of whispers, of fake smiles at charity galas, of never being able to call Maddie my daughter without hesitation.

"I don’t want anything else. I just want to leave with my daughter. Is that too much to ask?"

My voice shook, but I meant it.

"Emily, there are some things I’ll only say once."

His jaw tightened, voice dropping to a dangerous calm. The words hung between us. Somewhere outside, a car horn blared, and I realized I was shaking.

He drew himself up, CEO mask on. "This is my last offer. Unpack your stuff. Both of you. We’re going to act like this never happened."

"What if I say no?"

My heart hammered, but I refused to look away.

He stared at me. "If you take even one step out of this house, you’re never coming back."

It was a threat—final, cold.

Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at it, shoulders relaxing a little as he stepped away to answer.

I heard his voice soften: "Don’t be afraid, I’m on my way. Okay, send me the address. Twenty minutes—I’ll be there soon."

I wondered who needed his comfort so badly. It was never me, never Maddie.

He hung up, walked toward the car, then turned back to the staff:

"Move their things back. Before I come home tonight, the whole house must be tidied up."

He looked at me again. "Tonight, move back to the master bedroom. Don’t go to the guest room again."

I nodded, just to end it. He didn’t stay—just got in the car and left.

The engine faded, replaced by the chirp of crickets. I stood on the porch, letting the night air wash over me.

The housekeeper smiled. "Ma’am, you go back to your room. We’ll take care of the luggage."

She glanced at my suitcases, then back at me, searching for hope.

They were about to unload my suitcase, but I stopped them. "No need. We’ll be leaving soon."

I stood firm, hand on the last box. For once, I felt in control.

"Ma’am?"

Her question was tentative.

"When Mr. Hartman returns, please tell him—"

My voice was calm, but my heart raced. I let my hair fall over my face, hiding the last tears.

"As he said, from now on, Maddie and I will never set foot in the Hartman house again."

I glanced at the porch swing where Maddie and I used to sit on summer nights. The wind creaked it back and forth—empty now, but waiting.

I stepped out into the night, Maddie’s hand in mine, and wondered—could freedom really be this simple?