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Silent Escape: The Runaway Heiress's Refuge

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 412    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

oranges. The stand was illuminated by a single,

lled out. "Don'

wrinkles, lined with age and kindness. She w

need apples, honey? Or did you just

d. She saw the figure

her hood. Her wet hair framed her face-p

froze. Her ha

gers. It hit the ground with a dull thud. Red apples roll

" Nana w

ung in the

She shook her head slowly. No.

ands trembling violently. "You.

. The resemblance was uncanny. Eva wasn't just a random runaway. She was a gho

scattered apples. S

red at Eva as if she were a hallucina

again, tapping a rhythm on

picking up the apples, giving them space, but h

t's me. I'm Eva. But the silence in her throat was

r throat with

ars pooling in her eyes.

k her he

pulled out the folded, crumpled piece of pap

es. He watched them, feeling like an intr

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Silent Escape: The Runaway Heiress's Refuge
Silent Escape: The Runaway Heiress's Refuge
“I was summoned home from boarding school for a funeral, thinking my family finally wanted me back. I stood in the pouring rain, watching a mahogany casket disappear into the mud, while the silence in my head felt like it was drowning me. That night, I hid behind a tapestry and listened through a vent to my father's study. He wasn't talking about grief. He was talking about "tissue compatibility" and "near-perfect matches" with the family lawyer. They didn't want a daughter; they wanted a donor. My father's voice was devoid of emotion as he discussed "the harvest." My half-sister was dying, and I was the spare part they had been growing for years. They had even removed the lock from my bedroom door so I could never truly shut them out. The realization shattered me. I was just a biological backup plan, a life deemed less valuable than the one they preferred. How could a father look at his own child and see nothing but a heart to be cut out and transplanted? I didn't wait for them to come for me. I stuffed a backpack, flushed my SIM card, and climbed out the window into a thunderstorm. I caught a bus to the middle of nowhere, ending up in a seat next to a massive, predatory man named Hoyt who looked like he'd killed people for less than a seat preference. He pinned my wrist with a grip like iron and growled, "Who sent you?" I couldn't speak to defend myself, but as we rolled into a dying town called Blackwood Creek, I knew one thing for certain. I would rather take my chances with a stranger with a gun than stay another night with the family that wanted me dead.”