Chapter 3 - The Departure
An hour later, the apartment was entirely empty of Linda and Ryan’s presence.
Linda had packed her designer bags with furious, slamming efficiency, refusing to look at either of us before marching out the front door and calling a cab. We hadn't stopped her. Let her figure out how to explain to her friends why her son was sitting in an interrogation room at Great Lakes Naval Base.
Dad carried my single duffel bag down the narrow apartment stairs, his dress uniform jacket slung over one shoulder. I followed slowly, one hand resting protectively over my swollen belly. Every step felt lighter, as if the physical weight of the abuse was lifting away with every yard we put between ourselves and that front door.
When we stepped out into the crisp Chicago evening air, a black government sedan was idling at the curb, an MP standing by the open rear door.
“Colonel,” the driver nodded respectfully, opening the door wider for me.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Dad said, helping me carefully into the back seat.
As the car pulled away from the curb, I looked back through the rear window at the modest brick apartment building where I had spent seven months losing my mind. The windows were dark. The life I had pretended was happy was gone forever, burned to ash in a single afternoon.
“Where are we going, Dad?” I asked softly as we merged onto the highway heading north toward the base housing district.
“My quarters on base,” Dad said, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. “Until the baby arrives, you aren't leaving my sight. And after that... we’re going to file for a complete annulment and full custody. Ryan won't ever come near you or my grandchild again. I’ll see to that if it's the last thing I do on this earth.”
I nodded, resting my head against the cool leather of the seat. For months, I had lived in constant terror of what tomorrow would bring. For the first time, I felt a spark of fierce, unyielding hope.
The drive took forty minutes. By the time we passed through the security gates of the military base, the streetlights were flickering on, casting long, geometric shadows across the immaculate lawns of the officer housing blocks.
Dad’s house was a modest, two-story brick townhouse, impeccably neat and smelling faintly of coffee and floor wax. It was a bachelor’s home, devoid of soft touches or feminine decor, but to me, it felt like a sanctuary.
“Make yourself comfortable in the guest room upstairs, Emmy,” Dad said gently, setting my duffel bag on the living room floor. “I’m going to make some tea. Then we’re going to call Dr. Vance at the base hospital and get you a complete medical evaluation.”
I paused on the bottom step of the staircase, looking back at him. “Dad... what if Ryan’s family really does have connections? Linda mentioned something before she left—she kept talking about ‘the firm’ and how Ryan’s father left him protected trusts.”
Dad stopped walking toward the kitchen. His back was to me, but I saw his shoulders stiffen, the broad expanse of his uniform shirt tightening as he clenched his fists.
May you like
“Let them try,” Dad said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. “Ryan’s father was a civilian municipal lawyer who made a comfortable living shaking down small businesses. I am a colonel in the United States Army with thirty years of service and friends in every federal agency from here to Washington. Let them bring everything they have.”
---
