Page 33 of Sexting the Silverfox Daddy

Cassie

I'd been sitting in O'Hare International Airport's departure lounge for three hours.

People rushed past me dragging their luggage, hurrying to catch flights, but I sat there like a stone, unable to move.

My fingers gripped the boarding pass to Los Angeles so tight the edges were starting to curl.

The departure time crept closer and closer, but my body felt like someone had poured lead into my bones.

I kept telling myself to go—leave this city full of painful memories, find Mom, start fresh. But every time I tried to stand, the little life inside me seemed to send a reminder—I was carrying Gennady's child.

This baby was proof of our love, and the continuation of our pain.

"Los Angeles flight LA1547 now boarding. First class and business class passengers..."

The announcement echoed through the terminal just as my phone buzzed. Seeing "Mom" on the screen made my heart squeeze painfully.

"Baby? Are you okay?" Mom's voice came through, heavy with worry and exhaustion.

"Mom." Hearing her voice broke the dam. Tears flooded down my face. "I-"

"Cassie, honey, I'm about to board." Mom said, the background noise crackling with a flight attendant's sweet voice checking tickets. "I'm flying to Chicago right now. I can't let you go through this alone."

What?

"Mom, what did you say?" My voice shook, the airport noise suddenly fading into the distance. "You're coming to Chicago?"

"Yes, baby. Something felt wrong this morning—you sounded so broken. I lay in bed thinking about it, then booked the earliest flight I could find." Mom's voice was gentle but firm. "Whatever happens, we face it together. Mother and daughter."

That's when I completely fell apart.

Tears poured out like a flood. I covered my mouth, trying not to sob out loud in the middle of the airport, but my whole body shook uncontrollably. People stared, but I was past caring.

"Mom," I choked out between sobs. "I need you. I really need you."

"I know, baby, I know." Mom's voice started trembling too. "Four hours and I'll be in Chicago. Where are you now?"

"The airport." I wiped at my tears, voice hoarse. "I was going to fly to LA to find you."

"Don't leave, you hear me?" Mom's tone turned urgent. "Wait for me. We'll figure this out together."

I nodded, then realized she couldn't see me. "Okay, I'll wait."

After hanging up, I rushed to the service counter to cancel my flight. The agent took one look at my swollen eyes and kindly didn't ask questions, just handed me a pack of tissues.

The next four hours were the longest of my life. I paced the arrivals hall, checking the time every few minutes. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

The baby seemed to sense my emotional turmoil. Mild morning sickness had me running to the bathroom constantly. Every time I caught my reflection—pale, gaunt, hollow-eyed—I remembered the pampered woman at the estate, the naive girl who thought she'd found true love.

That girl was dead. She died the moment the truth came out.

"Flight UA2156 from Los Angeles has arrived..."

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest at the announcement.

Passengers poured through the gate. I stood on tiptoes, desperately searching for Mom's familiar figure. She was always easy to spot—petite frame, slightly hunched shoulders, that careful way she walked. Years of illness had made her look more fragile than other women her age.

Then I saw her.

Mom dragged a beat-up suitcase behind her, hair a bit messy, face paler than usual. She was searching the crowd, too, and when our eyes met, every wall I'd built crumbled completely.

"Mom!" I screamed, running toward her, not caring about the stares.

"My baby!" Mom dropped her suitcase and opened her arms.

We crashed together in the crowded arrivals hall, both of us crying. My tears soaked her shoulder while hers dripped onto my hair. People stared—some sympathetic, some curious—but I didn't give a damn.

In that moment, I just needed my mother's arms around me.

"It's okay, it's okay." Mom stroked my hair over and over, her voice shaking as she comforted me. "Mama's here now. Nothing to be afraid of."

We cried until airport security came over to ask if we needed help. Mom pulled out tissues and wiped my face, just like when I was little.

"Look at you, so skinny." She touched my cheek tenderly. "You haven't been eating properly these past few days, have you?"

I nodded, not daring to tell her I'd been throwing up everything I tried to eat, whether from morning sickness or emotional trauma.

"Let's get out of here." Mom grabbed her suitcase handle with one hand and gripped mine tightly with the other. "Find somewhere we can really talk."

We didn't go back to my old apartment. Gennady knew where we lived, and while I didn't think he'd hurt us, what about Ginnie and the others? Besides, that place had already been broken into. I couldn't risk Mom's life.

We found a small apartment on the edge of the city.

Cheap rent, terrible conditions, just the bare basics—a worn-out couch, small dining table, two chairs.

The kitchen was just a corner with a fridge that made weird humming noises.

Water stains decorated the walls, and one corner of the ceiling was actively leaking.

But at least it was safe.

I finally told Mom everything. From that mistaken text message to meeting and falling for Gennady, finding out I was pregnant, and finally learning the truth about Dad's death.

Mom listened quietly, occasionally stroking the back of my hand, giving me strength and support. When I got to how Dad died, her body visibly trembled, but she fought to stay calm.

"So you're carrying his child?" Mom's voice was soft, but I could hear the complex emotions underneath.

"Yes." I placed my hand on my still-flat stomach. "Mom, I don't know what to do. I hate him, but this baby is innocent."

Mom was silent for a long time, then said quietly, "The child is innocent. No matter who the father is, this is your baby, with your blood running through its veins."

Her words steadied my heart a little.

"But right now the most important thing is your health.

" Mom's tone shifted, her expression turning serious.

She reached out to gently touch my increasingly gaunt face.

"Cassie, you can't go on like this. Look at you, how skinny you've gotten.

Even for the baby's sake, you need to get healthy again. "

Her fingers trembled as they touched my protruding cheekbones. I saw tears instantly well up in her eyes. Mom was trying to be strong, but I knew how much it hurt her to see me like this.

"But I can't eat anything." My voice was weak as a feather. "Not only can't I keep anything down, but just the smell of food makes me want to throw up. Mom, I feel like my body doesn't belong to me anymore. I can't control anything."

Deep pain flashed through Mom's eyes, that kind of suffering that's a thousand times worse than being hurt yourself. She gently, carefully pulled me into her arms, just like when I was a little girl, afraid that too much force would break me.

"Cassie, my baby, my heart." Her voice choked up as she stroked my hair over and over. "I know you're hurting and that you don't want anything right now. But remember, you're not bearing this alone. I will stay with you, stay until you're better and don't need me anymore."

Her embrace was so warm, so safe. That familiar scent—the faint smell of laundry detergent mixed with her unique scent—instantly transported me back to childhood. Back then, no matter what trouble I faced, hiding in Mom's arms made the whole world feel safe again.

"Mom." I held her tight, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat. "I'm so scared. Scared I'll never get past this pain, scared I'll be a terrible mother, scared this baby will suffer because of my weakness."

"No, baby, absolutely not." Mom kissed my forehead, her lips warm and soft. "You're the kindest, strongest girl in the world. You feel fragile now, but that's only because your heart's been badly wounded. Wounds heal, pain passes, and you'll stand up again."

In her gentle voice, in her rhythmic stroking, I felt a long-lost peace. All those anxious, fearful voices buzzing in my head started to fade, replaced by a deep sense of security.

Thanks to Mom's presence, my mental state improved noticeably. Though my body remained weak, and morning sickness still tortured me every day, music gave me a reason to keep going.

We even started planning for the future.

"When you're feeling better, we can move to another city," Mom said while preparing nutritious soup for me. "Maybe Seattle, or Portland. They have good music schools and hospitals."

"New city, fresh start." I touched my belly. Though I couldn't feel movement yet, I knew the little life was growing strong in there. "The baby can grow up somewhere safe."

"Yes, away from all the danger and lies." Hope sparkled in Mom's eyes. "We'll give them a childhood full of love and music."

The apartment filled with violin music again. The notes echoed through the shabby room, as if breathing soul into the broken space. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink completely into the world of music, temporarily forgetting all pain and fear.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang from downstairs.

I stopped playing, frowning. We weren't expecting anyone and hadn't ordered anything.

The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.

"I'll check." I set down my bow and walked to the intercom.

"Hello, I'm a delivery driver with an important package for Miss Cassie Monroe. Need her signature in person." A male voice came through the speaker.

I remembered Mom had ordered some prenatal vitamins online a few days ago. Must be that.

"Just a moment, I'll come right down," I told the intercom.

"Cassie, want me to come with you?" Mom poked her head out from the kitchen.

"No need, just the vitamins arriving. I'll be right back." I grabbed my keys.

Walking down the stairs, something felt off. Usually at this time, this run-down apartment building was noisy—kids crying, TVs blaring, neighbors arguing—but now it was eerily quiet.

Pushing open the building door, I felt the cool evening breeze. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street.

I signed for the package—it was indeed Mom's prenatal vitamins. The delivery driver politely had me sign on his tablet, then drove off in his van.

But when I turned to go back upstairs with the package, an unexplainable unease crept over me.

Just as I reached the building entrance, I felt like someone was watching me from behind. A chill ran down my spine. Pretending to adjust the package, I snuck a glance back.

A man in a gray hoodie stood across the street, head down, fiddling with his phone. Looked normal enough, but when I turned to enter the building, I noticed him lift his head, staring straight at me.

My heart skipped a beat.

Maybe I was being paranoid. I told myself this, quickly entering the building. But as I was about to go upstairs, I saw through the glass door that the man was walking this way.

Something was wrong.

Instead of going up, I pretended to check the mailboxes while watching outside. The man stopped at the building entrance, pulled out a cigarette to light, but his eyes kept watching the door.

Fear began spreading through my chest.

I quietly took out my phone, pretending to take a call, actually wanting to see his reaction. Sure enough, he immediately became more alert, even stepping forward a few steps, trying to hear what I was saying.

This was definitely not a coincidence.

My hands started shaking. This person was watching me, and probably wasn't alone.

Looking around, I finally noticed what was wrong with the street—it was abnormally quiet, disturbingly so.

Even the usually bustling corner store was closed.

The normally busy main street was completely empty of cars.

Only the hoarse cawing of evening crows echoed through the deserted street.

What made my heart pound harder was noticing dark sedans parked at both ends of the street. Shadows moved inside them, though I couldn't see faces.

I was surrounded.

The package in my hands suddenly felt heavy.

I knew I couldn't stay here, but I also couldn't go back upstairs—that would bring danger to Mom.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to pretend I hadn't noticed anything and go upstairs normally. Maybe they were just watching, not planning to act yet.

But the moment I pushed open the building door, the air suddenly went dead still. Even the wind stopped, like the whole world was holding its breath.

That's when I heard footsteps.

Not one person's footsteps, but several people moving at once. They were approaching from different directions, like a trained wolf pack closing in on prey.

I couldn't maintain my composure anymore. Fear flooded over me like a tidal wave, making my vision blur. Clutching the package, I prepared to rush back upstairs, but just then—

Several figures emerged from the shadows simultaneously, surrounding me. They wore masks, tall and moving with swift professionalism.

A damp cloth suddenly covered my nose and mouth. The strong chemical smell instantly filled my nostrils. The drug made me dizzy, my vision starting to blur.

No! I couldn't pass out! I had to protect my baby!

I struggled desperately, using every ounce of strength to break free. My arms flailed wildly, nails scratching at the attackers' arms and faces.

"Stop moving or you'll regret it!" one of them threatened in a low voice.

But I couldn't hear it. The baby inside me gave me extraordinary strength. I kicked, I bit, I scratched, like a cornered wild animal.

"She's too much trouble!" another voice said. "We need to hurry!"

More drugs pressed against my nose and mouth. The world started spinning. My limbs grew heavy, like they'd been filled with lead.

My baby. I have to protect my baby.

This thought repeated over and over in my mind. Even as consciousness faded, my hands instinctively protected my stomach.

Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I heard gunshots in the distance.

"Shit! Their people are here!" a voice shouted urgently. "Move!"

I was roughly shoved into the back of a van, the door slamming shut. The engine roared to life, the vehicle lurching forward, tires screeching against pavement.

The gunfire grew more intense but also more distant.

I wanted to fight, wanted to escape, but the drugs made my body completely unresponsive. My eyelids grew impossibly heavy, vision completely blurred.

In my last moments of consciousness, I heard Mom's voice—

"Cassie! Cassie!" She was screaming my name desperately from the upstairs window.

Then darkness swallowed me completely.