Hey guys! I know its been a few since I posted, but I have been busy with school, my boys and with trying to edit this book. But I hope you enjoy this update!
That night, the embassy's main corridor was quiet, cloaked in the early hours before dawn. Roz had chosen this hour carefully. With Quinn's help, they had drafted diplomatic clearance papers. The guards were exhausted, the staff turnover was happening, and Roz's status gave her the authority to request privacy.
Mercedes was veiled and dressed in one of Roz's spare gowns—royal green, lined with gold trim, paired with gloves and a hat to obscure her features. To any onlooker, she looked like a high-ranking aide, not a prisoner of the Crown.
Roz walked beside her, her head high, her steps steady. Two of her guards flanked them—loyal to Roz and handpicked to keep their mouths shut.
When they reached the gates, the night guard frowned. "Lady Washington? You're leaving the embassy?"
Roz nodded curtly. "An urgent matter has arisen in my province. I've sent notice to the council. My assistant is accompanying me."
The guard's eyes moved to Mercedes, but Roz stepped between them. "Is there a problem with my authority?"
He blinked. "No, of course not. It's just…"
"Then open the gates."
The guard hesitated, his hand twitching toward his communicator. Just then, Blaine appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed sharply and smiling casually.
"There you are, Roz," he said, descending quickly. "I was wondering when you'd leave. Everything's in place."
His presence was enough to distract the guard from his doubt. Roz gave him a subtle nod, and within seconds, the gate creaked open.
The car waiting outside was sleek and black, with tinted windows. The emblem of the Duchy of Washington was stamped across the license plate.
Mercedes climbed inside, her heart pounding. She clutched the necklace Sam gave her, fingers trembling.
As the car pulled away, Roz leaned in and whispered, "We're going to my province. You'll be safe there. No one will find you—not Dwight, not Brody, not anyone."
Mercedes turned her face to the window, watching the embassy disappear behind them. The tension in her chest didn't fully ease, but the breath she released was the first real one she'd taken in hours.
The drive was silent for several miles. The farther they got from the embassy, the more the lights of the capital faded behind them. With every passing moment, Mercedes felt the grip of the nightmare loosen. She looked down at her hands, still trembling, then at the pendant around her neck. Sam's pendant.
Tears welled in her eyes again, but she blinked them away.
"Thank you," she finally whispered.
Roz looked at her, surprised. "For what?"
"For not making me feel like a burden. For risking yourself for me."
Roz's lips softened into the smallest smile. "I may be a Duchess, but I'm still a woman. And I know a woman fighting for her child when I see one."
They drove on, the road stretching endlessly in the darkness. Hours passed. By the time they reached the private airfield outside the city, the first rays of morning light had begun to bleed into the on the tarmac was a private jet bearing Roz's crest.
Mercedes stared at it, stunned. "You have a plane ready?"
Roz smirked, but there was warmth in her voice. "What kind of Duchess would I be if I didn't plan for everything?"
Two attendants approached, one opening the car door while the other helped gather the few bags Roz had brought along.
Everything felt surreal. The cool morning air, the silence between their words, the smell of jet fuel in the distance—it was all so vivid like she had stepped into someone else's life.
Inside the plane, the cabin was warm, quiet, and elegant. Gold trim lined the ivory walls, and soft lights glowed above the cushioned seats. Mercedes slid into the plush seat by the window, her fingers trailing over the armrest. She was barely able to believe what was happening.
Then she looked around—and gasped.
Santana, Jane, and Sebastian were already seated inside.
Tears welled instantly, a sob catching in her throat. "What—what are you doing here?" Her voice cracked with disbelief. She pressed a hand to her chest as tears rolled down her cheeks. "You have lives. You didn't have to—"
Jane was on her feet in a second, crossing the cabin to wrap her arms around her in a tight embrace. "I talked to my school," she whispered. "I can finish my classes online for the semester. And Roz said I can attend her university next term. It's a fully accredited school. One I never thought I'd get into. This isn't just for you—it's a new start for me, too."
Mercedes clung to her, breath hitching with the weight of everything crashing down on her all at once.
Santana followed, folding her arms tightly across her chest, but her eyes were glassy. "Where you go, I go. You're my sister, remember? I'll burn kingdoms down for you, Merce. You don't get to do this alone."
Sebastian leaned forward from his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. He gave her a soft smirk, but there was no teasing behind it this time. Just quiet loyalty. "Ditto for me. Turns out, I'm not as selfish as I thought."
Mercedes tried to speak, but no words came out. Her knees gave, and she collapsed into the nearest seat, her shoulders shaking as sobs broke free. It wasn't the fear or the pain this time—it was the love. The overwhelming truth was that she was not alone.
They surrounded her. Jane held one hand, Santana, the other. Sebastian pulled a blanket from the storage above and draped it over her lap. Roz stood at the cabin's entrance, watching them with a knowing expression. No one rushed her. No one asked her to stop crying.
For the first time in days, Mercedes let herself feel everything.
The grief of leaving Sam behind. The fear of what was coming. The crushing love she felt for the baby inside her. And the gratitude—for this unlikely, unwavering family who chose her.
When she finally calmed, cheeks damp, she looked at each of them through blurred vision.
"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely. "Thank you for not letting me go through this alone."
"You never were," Jane said gently.
They sat together for a while longer in the cabin's silence. Eventually, Roz gave the signal, and the pilot began the takeoff protocol.
They all settled into their seats, the low hum of the engines growing louder. Mercedes pulled the blanket tighter around herself and glanced out the window, the runway stretching ahead.
As the plane ascended into the sky, she reached for the pendant hanging from her neck and whispered to herself through another wave of tears:
"Hold on, Sam. We're waiting. Don't give up on us."
And with that, they began the fourteen-hour flight that would change everything.
Roz's province was breathtaking. When the plane finally landed, the view from the window stole Mercedes' breath. Lush greenery stretched for miles, dotted with vibrant flowers and winding rivers. The sun was rising over turquoise waters that framed the coast like a painting. It looked like a tropical island—untouched, peaceful, protected.
"Welcome home," Roz said softly, her pride-filled voice.
A fleet of sleek cars waited for them at the airstrip. Within the hour, they pulled up to one of Roz's many estates, a grand mansion atop a hill overlooking the ocean. It was stunning. Pale stone walls, wide balconies with flowing white curtains, and gardens blooming in every direction. The estate itself had fourteen bedrooms and just as many bathrooms, designed with luxury and comfort in mind.
The land stretched across what looked to be the size of two football fields, complete with a private garden, a glass greenhouse, stables, and an infinity pool that spilled into the horizon.
As they stepped out of the car, Mercedes stared at the mansion in awe.
"This is where you'll live," Roz said, placing a hand on her back. "Where you all will live. You're safe here."
Inside, staff members greeted them warmly—maids, chefs, groundskeepers, and security—all trained and loyal to Roz, and now loyal to them. The mansion had a gentle hum of life and luxury, but nothing about it felt cold or unfamiliar. The head housekeeper welcomed Mercedes personally, assuring her that anything she needed would be provided.
As the others went off to tour the grounds, Roz guided Mercedes through the hallways, each lined with artwork and lit with chandeliers. When they reached the guest wing, she opened the door to a room that stole Mercedes' breath again.
It was beautiful—spacious, with tall windows overlooking the water and light fabrics swaying in the breeze. The bed was massive with a carved wooden headboard, and the comforter was thick and plush. There was a private sitting area, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom that looked more like a spa. Everything smelled like lavender and sea air, fresh and soothing.
"This is your room," Roz said gently. "It's yours. No one will disturb you unless you want them to."
Mercedes stepped in slowly, taking it all in. Her fingers brushed the soft silk duvet, her gaze drawn to the view of the ocean just beyond the window. Even though they had left everything behind, something inside her whispered—this was home now.
Roz handed her a folder of documents. "These are your new credentials, financial records, and health care documents—everything you need to start over. There's a bank account in your name that has two million in it now, and you'll receive a monthly stipend of ten thousand dollars."
Mercedes's eyes widened. "What? Ten thousand?"
Roz smiled. "You're no longer a day-to-day serving woman, Mercedes. You're a mother now. A woman who's going to raise a royal child. It's time you were able to build the life you deserve."
Mercedes clutched the papers, overwhelmed. Her voice shook. "I don't know what to say. I don't know how to repay you."
Roz sat beside her on the edge of the bed. "You don't have to repay me. I'm doing this because it's right. And because you matter, Mercedes."
Mercedes blinked quickly, trying to keep the tears from falling. Roz's kindness wasn't just generosity—it was protection, dignity, and love wrapped into every word.
Roz continued, her voice softer now. "I couldn't say this in front of Quinn, but Blaine came to see me before we left. Sam will be there. Every step of the way. It will be hard, and it'll take time—but he will never stop trying to bring you back to him."
Tears welled in Mercedes's eyes again, and she sat on the edge of the bed, trying to process it all. "Will you be in trouble for this? For helping me?"
Roz's smile faded into a sigh. She leaned forward, her hands folded. "We had to lie to the King. The guards who helped us told him you took your own life. We hired a look-alike to pose for photos, knowing Dwight would demand confirmation."
Mercedes gasped, her hand going to her chest. "Sam…he has to pretend I'm—"
Roz nodded solemnly. "Sam knows the truth. But for now, he has to mourn you publicly. It's the only way to protect you and your baby. The world must believe you're gone. That way, no one will come looking."
Mercedes sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of those words settling in. She thought of Sam—alone, heartbroken, and still choosing her safety over everything.
"It's cruel," she whispered. "But it's also the best option, isn't it?"
Roz nodded. "It's the only one that keeps you safe."
Mercedes looked out the window, a new fire lighting in her chest. The ocean shimmered under the sun, vast and endless.
"Then I'll do whatever it takes to keep our child safe. And when Sam finds us—we'll be ready."
Roz placed a hand over hers. "You're not alone, Mercedes. Not anymore."
Mercedes took a deep breath, her hand instinctively resting over her stomach. She nodded. "It's time to start over. For real this time."
And in that moment, surrounded by the calm of Roz's sanctuary and the unwavering loyalty of her friends, she knew this wasn't just a hiding place.
It was the beginning of a new legacy.
It had been three months since they had been in the States, three months since they had seen Sam, Stevie, and Blaine, and three months since they had any news about Sam or Cordova.
The first month was the hardest. Mercedes couldn't control her emotions—everything overwhelmed her. The silence, the uncertainty, the weight of being far away from the man she loved. But the worst part was the ultrasound. When the doctor arrived at the estate and she heard her baby's heartbeat for the first time, Mercedes broke down in tears.
She wanted Sam to be there, hold her hand, and experience it with her. But he wasn't; his absence carved another crack in her heart.
Roz stopped by once a week to check in and make sure they had everything they needed. She took Mercedes and the gang around her province, showing them their new home and introducing them to the people who lived there. The warmth of the locals was comforting, and the land was nothing short of paradise. But even with all the beauty, safety, and freedom, this was still so very much to handle.
They eventually settled into a routine, a way of life that offered peace, structure, and a little normalcy. Jane buried herself in her studies, her determination sharpening with every passing day. She had adjusted to her new school and was proudly on track to graduate.
Sebastian, shockingly, found solace in the soil. Gardening became his therapy—his joy. He'd spend hours in the morning barefoot in the garden, humming to himself while planting and pruning with surprising skill.
Santana embraced the land's openness. She hiked, swam, tanned under the sun, and allowed herself—for the first time in a long time—to simply breathe.
As for Mercedes, she'd been nesting. She prepared for her baby's arrival, set up the nursery, wrote letters she had never sent, and dreamed of a future she still hoped would include Sam.
The sun bathed the province in golden light, birds chirped overhead, and a soft breeze swept through the trees. Now visibly pregnant, Mercedes sat on a blanket in the middle of the estate's garden, dressed in a flowing lavender sundress. Her round belly was gently cradled beneath the soft fabric, her hand resting on it protectively.
Jane, Santana, and Sebastian lounged beside her under the shade of a large tree, surrounded by baskets of fresh fruit, sandwiches, and sparkling lemonade. Laughter filled the air as they teased one another and savored the rare peace they'd carved out in this secret haven.
Then came the sound of footsteps. More than one set.
Mercedes looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun—and her breath caught.
Walking down the path were Sam, Stevie, Blaine... and Quinn.
The picnic fell silent. Sebastian stood first, blinking in surprise. Santana rose, one brow arching sharply.
Mercedes didn't wait. She scrambled to her feet and hurried toward Sam, her emotions bubbling to the surface. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "What are you doing here?"
Sam wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and kissing her temple. "It's been three months, and that's three months too long to not see you."
Mercedes pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, a tear slipping free before she noticed Quinn standing just behind him.
Her smile faltered slightly. "Quinn?"
Sam turned to glance at her. "I couldn't leave her behind. If we had, my father would've known something was up."
Quinn stepped forward, her posture poised. "I won't interfere. I promise. I came to help—and to protect what's left of the plan."
Mercedes studied her carefully. The old tension between them still flickered, but this Quinn—this one seemed different. Wiser. Humble.
Mercedes nodded. "Okay."
Santana crossed her arms and smirked. "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on her."
Quinn raised an eyebrow, amused. "I'd expect nothing less."
Sebastian motioned to Blaine, who gladly dropped down beside him on the blanket, grinning. Stevie went straight to Jane, sweeping her into a hug that made her giggle.
Sam extended his hand to Mercedes. "May I?"
She hesitated only a second before sliding her fingers into his. He helped her to her feet, careful and tender.
"Let's take a walk," he murmured.
Together, they moved away from the picnic and toward the garden path, hearts racing, hands entwined, ready to finally face the future they'd fought so hard for.
The scent of jasmine and roses hung heavy in the air, a heady perfume that seemed to amplify the emotions swirling between them. As they walked through the garden, the riot of colors and textures a stark contrast to the sterile world they'd left behind, Sam's gaze softened, a tender smile gracing his lips.
"You're practically glowing," he murmured, his voice thick with awe. His eyes traced the gentle curve of her belly, the life blossoming within her a miracle he still struggled to comprehend. "And... wow, your stomach."
He reached down instinctively, his hand hovering inches above her, his touch a mixture of reverence and longing. He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for permission. "May I?"
Mercedes smiled, a warmth radiating from her that went beyond the setting sun. "Yes, Sam."
His touch was hesitant at first, his fingers trembling slightly as they made contact. He gently placed his hand on her belly, his reverent, almost worshipful touch. Then, a tiny kick, a delicate flutter against his palm, sent a jolt of electricity through him.
His eyes widened, filling with profound wonder and joy that took his breath away. He looked up at her, his face alight with an emotion that mirrored the love in her own heart.
"Wow," he whispered, his voice catching on the single word. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated awe, a testament to the depth of his feelings for her and their child.
He leaned in, his gaze locking with hers, and the world around them seemed to fade away. His kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration of a connection that had been tested and forged in fire. But then, it deepened a desperate merging of souls, a passionate reunion of two halves that had been torn apart for too long.
It was a kiss that spoke of longing, loss, hope, and redemption. Mercedes sighed into him, her hands finding his chest, her fingers clutching at his shirt as if to anchor herself to him. She poured all her love, fear, and unyielding devotion into that kiss.
A fragile silence hung between them when they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling. Mercedes, her eyes searching his, her voice barely a whisper, asked, "How long do I have you?"
The joy in Sam's eyes dimmed, replaced by a shadow of pain and longing. "Only for the weekend, love. Then we have to go back."
She nodded, and the acceptance in her eyes was a testament to her strength. But her fingers tightened in his, a silent plea for every moment they could steal. "Then, let's not waste a second," she said, her voice laced with a fierce determination.
The air crackled with unspoken desires, the need to reclaim the stolen time burning bright within them. With its intoxicating beauty, the garden became a sanctuary, a place where they could momentarily escape the harsh realities that awaited them.