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Jo

W hen it rains, it pours . Her mother used to add that sometimes a little rain helps things grow but, right now, Jo couldn’t see it. It felt like she was living in a flood zone.

She’d thought she was doing okay, coming to terms with the biggest shock of her life. Last night, at the bar, with Hugo, she’d felt almost happy. Like maybe this baby growing inside her didn’t have to change everything between them. But you still didn’t have the guts to tell him.

Then, today, a second piece of news arrived, in the form of a letter from her lawyer, informing her that France had denied her long-stay visa application. Her lawyer’s recommendation was simple. Go back to the US and appeal the decision from there. According to him, she had everything that was needed for the Talent Passport Visa, and the mistake would eventually be sorted out. He still seemed so confident. But he didn’t know the half of it. She couldn’t go back. Leaving had already been risky enough. To get back on a plane now, while Bartholomew Horns was still free, would only put her and her parents at risk. And she knew what the FBI would say if she reached out. They’d tell her she and her parents could go into the witness protection program. Not something she wanted to do, to her parents … or to this baby growing inside her. In any case, she’d heard stories of the French legal system. An appeal would take time. Time she didn’t have anymore. Now that she was pregnant, the clock was ticking.

Shit. Pregnant. Health insurance . That was going to be an issue. She fired a quick email to the lawyer to check how long her health insurance would keep working for, now that her visa application had been denied.

Her hatred of Bartholomew Horns grew as she thought of everything that was going to happen over the next months. Being pregnant was going to cost money. And it wasn’t like she didn’t have money. She owned a condo in the US. She had a bank account with some savings. Parents who would help her, if she asked. But she couldn’t access any of that. Not if she wanted to remain invisible.

“If Horns finds out where you are, he will come for you. Stay out of sight until he’s caught.” The FBI agent’s words still resonated in her ears, so many months later. It was the reason she’d run. The weight of it all pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She stared blankly ahead, her mind racing. How had it all unraveled so quickly?

Her stomach churned, a mix of anxiety and nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness. She placed a hand over her abdomen, her touch tentative, unsure. A child. It still didn’t feel real. Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. She waited three rings, debating whether to answer. She didn’t think she could take more bad news. Finally, she picked it up.

“Jo,” her lawyer said, his tone brisk but not unkind. “I just got your email about the insurance. You’re covered for now, but only for the next thirty days. If you decide to appeal, you could move to a private health insurance until your visa situation is resolved.”

Jo stifled a laugh. No health insurance would touch her with a six-foot pole right now. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos in her mind. “Listen. I’d like to appeal the decision, but is there a way of doing it from here?”

The pause wasn’t encouraging. “It’ll be easier if you go back. I’m confident we can sort this out quickly.”

“I’d appreciate if you could look into alternatives,” she said, keeping her tone light. No need in letting him see just how scared she was.