Chapter 4 - Landing at Heathrow
The morning sun over London was hidden behind a thick,
gray mist.
The plane touched down with a soft thud,
the brakes whining against the wet runway.
I opened my eyes,
feeling every hour of the sleepless flight in my bones.
The cabin announcement welcomed us to Heathrow,
the British accent sounding like a foreign language after so long.
I turned on my phone,
bracing myself for the inevitable onslaught.
The screen lit up,
then immediately froze from the sheer volume of messages.
Thousands of texts,
emails,
and missed calls from numbers I didn't recognize.
Gideon had tried to call fifty times before giving up.
There were also messages from old friends,
people who hadn't spoken to me in years,
all offering support.
I bypassed them all,
opening a direct message to my lawyer,
Marcus Vance.
"I have landed,"
I wrote,
my fingers steady.
His reply was instant:
"A driver is waiting for you at the arrivals terminal.
We meet at my office at noon."
I took a deep breath,
the cold air filling my lungs as I stepped off the plane.
Walking through the terminal,
I noticed a few people looking at me,
their eyes widening in recognition.
The news had traveled faster than the speed of sound.
I pulled my wool coat tighter around myself,
keeping my head down.
The driver,
a quiet man named Thomas,
held up a small sign with my maiden name:
Clara Sterling.
Seeing that name printed on the cardboard brought a sudden lump to my throat.
It was who I used to be before I became a shadow in a billionaire's mansion.
"Welcome back,
Miss Sterling,"
Thomas said,
taking my single suitcase.
"Thank you,
Thomas,"
I replied,
following him out into the brisk morning.
The city was alive,
traffic humming,
rain tapping against the windows of the black cab.
As we drove past the familiar sights of London,
the weight on my chest began to lift.
I was no longer Mrs. Knightley,
the lonely wife waiting by a cold stove.
May you like
I was Clara,
and I was finally home.
