Chapter 29
Chapter 29: The London Fog
The transition to London was everything Anna had dreamed of. Every week, she sent me photos of red double-decker buses, the historic stone walls of her college campus, and the bright, creative sketches she was producing for her design classes. For the first time in years, I could breathe without looking over my shoulder.
But distance doesn't completely erase old debts. In late October, while I was reviewing some quarterly reports at my office, my personal phone rang. It was an international number.
My heart skipped a beat as I answered. "Anna? Is everything okay?"
"Mom, I'm fine," Anna’s voice came through, but she sounded tense, her usual bright tone replaced by anxiety. "But something weird just happened. I was leaving my art history lecture, and a woman approached me outside the building. She was wearing a cheap trench coat and sunglasses, but the moment she spoke, I knew exactly who it was."
A cold sweat broke out across my neck. "Sabrina."
"Yes," Anna whispered. "She looked awful, Mom. Her hands were shaking, and she looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. She started begging me. She said she used the last of her credit card limit to buy a one-way ticket to London because she knew I was here. She said she wanted to 'make things right' between us."
"What did you do, Anna?" I asked, my voice hardening.
May you like
"I did exactly what you taught me to do," Anna replied firmly. "I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I pulled out my phone, took a photo of her face, and told her that campus security and the London Metropolitan Police were already on their way. She panicked and ran toward the tube station."
"You did perfectly, sweetie," I said, though my blood was boiling. Sabrina had crossed an ocean to harass my daughter, thinking that away from Marcus Thorne and the American courts, she could manipulate a nineteen-year-old girl. She was severely mistaken.
