Julian: We are almost through this, Chloe. Just keep breathing for me, okay?
Chloe: Are the bad people going to chase us when we go outside into the cold?
Julian: Let them try. They won't get within a mile of us while I'm breathing.
Julian reached over with one foot, sliding the metal forearm crutches closer before scooping them up from the floor without letting go of the baby. The infant had finally quieted down, resting its tiny head against Julian's heartbeat with a peaceful sigh that felt like a small victory. Chloe reached out with a trembling hand, gripping the lapel of his navy suit as if letting go would cause her to vanish into thin air. The towering white columns around them suddenly felt less like symbols of wealth and more like prison bars closing in on an innocent family. He knew the mistress of the house was watching from somewhere above, plotting her next move, but he no longer cared about her threats or her cutthroat inheritance games.
Julian: Look at me, Chloe. Do you trust me to take care of you?
Chloe: Yes... you look just like the pictures mom kept in her old wooden box.
Julian: Then close your eyes for a minute and let me do the heavy lifting.
Chloe nodded slowly, her eyelids fluttering shut as exhaustion finally began to pull her toward a deep, much-needed sleep. Julian adjusted his grip, balancing the infant against his chest while tucking the crutches securely under his free arm with practiced athletic precision. He stood up slowly from the marble floor, his muscles straining under the combined weight, but his posture remained rigid and resolute. The distant sound of a door clicking shut down the west wing corridor reminded him that time was running out, and every second they lingered in the foyer increased their risk of interception.
Julian: Come on, let's leave this nightmare behind us once and for all.
Chloe: Don't leave me behind in the dark... please promise me.
Julian: Never. We walk out of these front doors together, or not at all.