Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 220

“Yes, sir. Sawyer, we’re leaving shortly. We’ll divert directly to Escala, land there.”

“Keep her safe!” I shout, loud enough for Sawyer to hear me.

“You heard Mr. Grey. Text me if the situation changes.” Taylor hangs up.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Taylor and I enter the building, and I’m pleased that the elevator is

waiting for us.

I hope Ana’s okay…and the baby.

Maybe I should call my mom, ask her to go over and check on Ana. Or Dr. Greene—though I’m not

sure she’d take my call. It will take us an hour to get home, and I can’t wait that long; I try my mother,

but there’s no phone signal—we’re in the elevator. I can’t call Ana, either.

Surely if it were serious she’d have called me?

Damn. I have no idea, given she’s not talking to me.

The elevator doors open, Charlie Tango is where we left her, and Stephan is waiting at the controls.

To hell with this. I’m going to fly her. I can direct my attention to the flight, rather than dwell on what’s

happening at Escala.

I hope Ana goes to bed. Our bed.

Stephan steps down from the cockpit to greet us.

“Stephan, hi. I’d like to fly her home. We need a new course, for Escala.”

“Yes, sir.” He opens the pilot’s door for me, and I think he’s surprised by the change in my attitude. I

climb aboard, buckle up, and begin the final preflight checks.

“All checks done?” I ask Stephan as he takes the seat beside me.

“Just the transponder.”

“Oh, yes. I see. I need to get home to my wife. Taylor, you strapped in?”

“Yes, sir.” His disembodied voice is loud and clear in my cans. I radio the tower, and they’re ready for

us.

“Right, gentlemen, let’s get home.” Pulling back the collective, I float Charlie Tango smoothly into the

sky and head for Seattle.

As we cut through the air at speed, I know I’ve made the right decision to pilot. I have to focus on

keeping us airborne, but deep down, my anxiety continues to gnaw at my insides. I hope Ana’s okay.

We touch down right on schedule at 2:30.

“Good flying, Mr. Grey,” Stephan says.

“Enjoy taking her back to Boeing Field.”

“Will do.” He grins.

I unbuckle my harness, switch on my phone, and follow Taylor out onto Escala’s rooftop. Taylor frowns

down at his phone. I halt as he listens to a message.

“It’s from Sawyer. Mrs. Grey is at the bank.” Taylor raises his voice to be heard over the wind that whips

around us on the roof.

What? I thought she was ill. What the fuck is she doing at the bank?

“Sawyer followed her there. She tried to give him the slip.”

Anxiety spirals into my chest, tightening around my heart. My rebooted phone beeps and vibrates with

a flood of alerts. There’s a text from Andrea, sent four minutes ago, and a couple of missed calls from

my bank, and one from Welch.

What the fuck? Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

ANDREA

Troy Whelan at your bank needs to speak with you urgently.

I have Whelan on speed dial. He picks up immediately.

“Whelan, it’s Christian Grey. What’s going on?” I shout over the rush of the wind.

“Mr. Grey, good afternoon. Um, your wife is here requesting to withdraw five million dollars.”

What?

My blood turns to ice.

“Five million?” I can’t quite believe what he’s said.

What does she need five million for?

Fuck. She’s leaving me.

My world crashes and burns, a cavern of despair opening at my feet.

“Yes, sir. As you know, under current banking legislation I can’t cash five million.”

“Yes, of course.” I’m in shock, teetering on the brink of the abyss. “Let me talk to Mrs. Grey.” I sound

robotic.

“Certainly, sir. If you’ll hold for a minute.”

This is agony. I head to shelter out of the wind, beside the elevator doors, and stand quietly waiting to

hear from my wife…dreading to hear from my wife.

She’s going. She’s leaving me.

What am I going to do without her? The phone clicks and my panic overwhelms me.

“Hi.” Ana’s voice is breathy and high-pitched.

“You’re leaving me?” The words are out before I can stop them.

“No!” she rasps, and it sounds like an agonized appeal.

Oh, thank fuck. But my relief is short-lived.

“Yes,” she whispers, as if she’s just made her decision.

What!

“Ana, I—” I don’t know what to say. I want to beg her to stay.

“Christian, please. Don’t.”

“You’re going?” You’re really going.

“Yes.”

No! No! NO! I free-fall, tumbling down into the abyss. Falling. Falling. Falling. Reaching out, I splay my

hand on the wall to support myself. The pain is visceral.

Don’t leave me.

Shit, was this always going to happen? Did she ever love me?

Was it my fucking money?

“But why the cash? Was it always the money?” Tell me it wasn’t the money. Please. The pain is

indescribable.

“No!” She sounds emphatic.

Do I believe her?

Is it because I saw Elena? For God’s sake! And in this moment, I don’t think I could loathe Elena more.

I breathe deep, trying to get a handle on my thoughts.

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