The airport smelled like coffee and recycled air.
Jasmine moved through the terminal with practiced calm, her suitcase rolling softly behind her. She wore a neutral coat, hair tucked beneath a scarf, nothing that would invite a second glance. No designer labels. No recognizable silhouette. She had dressed to disappear.
At the check-in counter, the attendant smiled. "Name?"
"Jasmine Towers," she said.
The sound of her maiden name landed cleanly, without weight. For a moment, she let herself feel it—who she had been before her life was folded into someone else's empire.
The boarding pass slid across the counter.
"Have a pleasant flight."
Jasmine took it and walked away without looking back.
---
Her phone buzzed as she waited at the gate.
Keith: Where are you?
She stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen.
Then she blocked the number.
The action felt decisive. Necessary. Like closing a door that had been left ajar too long.
She found a seat near the window and watched planes taxi across the runway. Each one carried someone toward something—home, opportunity, regret. She wondered briefly which category she belonged to now.
Her hand drifted to her abdomen again, a small, unconscious movement.
You're safe, she thought. I won't let anyone turn you into a negotiation.
The announcement for boarding crackled overhead.
---
On the plane, Jasmine chose the window seat. As the aircraft lifted into the sky, the city shrank beneath her—steel and glass reduced to patterns. She felt no rush of nostalgia. Only clarity.
She slept briefly, waking to sunlight spilling across the cabin. When the plane began its descent hours later, she was already braced for the new reality waiting on the ground.
This city was quieter. Slower. The airport smaller, the air cooler.
She rented a modest car and drove past tree-lined streets and low-rise buildings, the rhythm of the place settling her nerves. No towering headquarters. No paparazzi. No memories lurking in every corner.
The apartment she had arranged was modest but bright. One bedroom. Clean lines. A view of a park where children laughed in the afternoons.
Jasmine set her suitcase down and stood in the middle of the living room, listening to the unfamiliar silence.
This was it.
No staff. No schedule dictated by someone else's calendar. No expectations beyond what she set for herself.
She sank onto the couch and exhaled slowly.
---
Two days later, she sat across from a woman in her early forties with sharp eyes and an efficient manner.
"You're overqualified," the woman said, scanning Jasmine's résumé. "But your experience is impressive."
"I'm not looking for a senior role," Jasmine replied. "I want stability. Growth potential. Discretion."
The woman nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "We have a consulting position opening next month. Flexible hours. Minimal public exposure."
"That will work."
The handshake that followed was firm. Equal.
When Jasmine stepped back onto the street, offer letter secured in her bag, she allowed herself a small smile.
She was building something again. From the ground up.
---
That evening, Jasmine sat at the small kitchen table, paperwork spread before her. Lease agreements. Employment forms. Medical documents. Each signature reinforced the reality of her new life.
She paused when she reached the form asking for marital status.
She checked the box marked Single.
No hesitation.
Her phone chimed—a notification from a news app she hadn't bothered to disable yet.
Acland Group CEO Finalizes Divorce After Public Gala Fallout
Jasmine didn't open it.
She deleted the app instead.
---
Across the country, in a glass office that still smelled faintly of last night's celebration, Keith Acland stared at the city below.
"She booked a one-way flight," the investigator said quietly. "Under her maiden name."
"To where?" Keith asked.
"There are multiple possibilities. She planned carefully."
Keith's hand curled into a fist. One-way.
Not a pause. Not a threat. A decision.
"Continue," he said after a moment.
"Yes, sir."
When the line went dead, Keith remained where he was, unease settling deeper than before. For the first time, the narrative was no longer his to control.
---
Back in her new apartment, Jasmine stood by the window as dusk fell, watching the lights come on one by one.
She placed both hands over her abdomen, her voice barely above a whisper.
"This is our beginning."
Outside, the world carried on, unaware that a future had just been quietly rerouted.