chaptertwenty-two

“jack.”myvoicehasdisappeared,chokedbyfear.whatdoeshewant?

howisheoutofjail?whydoesheha一vemia’sphone?theblooddrainsfrom

myface,andifeeldizzy.

“youdorememberme,”hesays,histonesoft.isensehisbittersmile.

“yes.ofcourse.”myanswerisautomaticasmymindraces.

“you’reprobablywonderingwhyicalledyou.”

“yes.”

hangup.

“don’thangup.i’vebeenha一vingachatwithyourlittlesister-inlaw.”

what?mia!no!“whatha一veyoudone?”iwhisper,tryingtoquellmyfear.

“listenhere,youprick-teasing,gold-diggingwhore.youfuckedupmylife.

greyfuckedupmylife.youoweme.iha一vethelittlebitchwithmenow.and

you,thatcock-suckeryoumarried,andhiswholefuckingfamilyaregoingto

pay.”

hyde’scontemptandbileshockme.hisfamily?whatthehell?

“whatdoyouwant?”

“iwanthismoney.ireallywanthisfuckingmoney.ifthingshadbeendifferent,

itcouldha一vebeenme.soyou’regoingtogetitforme.iwantfivemillion

dollars,today.”

“jack,idon’tha一veaccesstothatkindofmoney.”

hesnortshisderision.“youha一vetwohourstogetit.that’sit—twohours.tell

nooneorthislittlebitchgetsit.notthecops.notyourprickofahusband.

nothissecurityteam.iwillknowifyoudo.understand?”hepausesanditry

torespond,butmypanicandfearsealmythroat.

“youunderstand!”heshouts.

“yes,”iwhisper.

“oriwillkillher.”

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fiftyshadesfreed

igasp.

“keepyourphonewithyou.tellnooneori’llfuckherupbeforeikillher.you

ha一vetwohours.”

“jack,ineedlonger.threehours.howdoiknowthatyouha一veher?”

thelinegoesdead.igapeinhorroratthephonemymouthparchedwith

fear,lea一vingthenastymetallictasteofterror.mia,hehasmia.ordoeshe?

mymindwhirrsattheobscenepossibility,andmystomachroilsagain.ithink

i’mgoingtobesick,butiinhaledeeply,tryingtosteadymypanic,andthe

nauseapasses.mymindrocketsthroughthepossibilities.tellchristian?

telltaylor?callthepolice?howwilljackknow?doesheactuallyha一ve

mia?ineedtime,timetothink—buticanonlyaccomplishthatbyfollowing

hisinstructions.igrabmypurseandheadforthedoor.

“hannah,iha一vetogoout.iamnotsurehowlongi’llbe.cancelmy

appointmentsthisafternoon.letelizabethknowiha一vetodealwithan

emergency.”

“sure,ana.everythingokay?”hannahfrowns,concernetchedonherfaceas

shewatchesmeflee.

“yes,”icallbackdistractedly,hurryingtowardreceptionwheresawyeris

waiting.

“sawyer.”heleapsupfromthearmchairatthesoundofmyvoice,and

frownswhenheseesmyface.

“i’mnotfeelingwell.pleasetakemehome.”

“sure,ma’am.doyouwanttowaitherewhileigetthecar?”

“no,i’llcomewithyou.i’minahurrytogethome.”

igazeoutthewindowinstarkterror,runningthroughmyplan.gethome.

change.findcheckbook.escapefromryanandsawyersomehow.goto

bank.hell,howmuchroomdoesfivemilliondollarstakeup?whatwillit

weigh?willineedasuitcase?shoulditelephonethebankinadvance?mia.

mia.whatifhedoesn’tha一vemia?howcanicheck?ificallgraceitwill

raisehersuspicions,andpossiblyendangermia.hesaidhewouldknow.i

glanceoutthebackofthesuv.amibeingfollowed?myheartracesasi

examinethecarsfollowingus.theylookinnocuousenough.oh,sawyer,

drivefaster.414|page

eljames

please.myeyesflickertomeethisintherearviewmirrorandhisbrow

creases.

sawyerpressesabuttononhisbluetoothheadsettoansweracall.

“t...iwantedtoletyouknowmrs.greyiswithme.”sawyer’seyesmeet

mineoncemorebeforehelooksbackattheroadandcontinues.

“she’sunwell.i’mtakingherbacktoescala...isee...sir.”

sawyer’seyesflickfromtheroadtomineintherearviewmirroragain.

“yes,”heagrees,andhangsup.

“taylor?”iwhisper.

henods.

“he’swithmr.grey?”

“yes,ma’am.”sawyer’slooksoftensinsympathy.

“aretheystillinportland?”

“yes,ma’am.”

good.iha一vetokeepchristiansafe.myhandstraysdowntomybelly,andi

rubitconsciously.andyou,littleblip.keepyoubothsafe.

“canwehurryplease?i’mnotfeelingwell.”

“yes,ma’am.”sawyerpressestheacceleratorandourcarglidesthroughthe

traffic.

mrs.jonesisnowheretobeseenwhensawyerandiarriveatthe

apartment.sincehercarismissingfromthegarage,iassumeshe’srunning

errandswithryan.sawyerheadsfortaylor’sofficewhileibolttochristian’s

study.scuttlinginpanicaroundhisdesk,iwrenchopenthedrawertofindthe

checkbooks.leila’sgunslidesforwardintoview.ifeelanincongruous

twingeofannoyancethatchristianhasnotsecuredthisweapon.heknows

nothingaboutguns—jeez,hecouldgethurt.

afteramoment’shesitation,igrabthepistol,checktoensureit’sloaded,

andtuckitintothewaistbandofmyblackslacks.imayneedit.iswallow

hard.i’veonlyeverpracticedontargets.i’veneverfiredagunatanyone;i

hoperaywillforgiveme.iturnmyattentiontotrackingdowntheright

checkbook.therearefive,andonlyoneisinthenamesofc.greyandmrs.

a.grey.iha一veaboutfifty-fourthousanddollarsinmyownaccount.iha一veno

ideahowmuchmoney415|page

fiftyshadesfreed

isinthisone.butchristianmustbegoodforfivemilliondollars,surely.

perhapsthere’smoneyinthesafe?crap.iha一venoideaofthenumber.

didn’thementionthecombinationwasithisfilingcabinet?itrythecabinet,

butit’slocked.shit.i’llha一vetosticktoplana.itakeadeepbreathand,ina

morecomposedbutdeterminedmanner,stridetoourbedroom.thebed

hasbeenmade,andforamoment,ifeelapang.perhapsishouldha一veslept

herelastnight.whatisthepointofarguingwithsomeonewho,bytheirown

admission,isfiftyshades?he’snoteventalkingtomenow.no—idonot

ha一vetimetothinkaboutthis.

quickly,ichangeoutofmyslacks,pullingonjeans,ahoodedsweatshirt,and

apairofsneakersandputtheguninthewaistbandofmyjeans,atmyback.

fromtheclosetifishoutalargesoftdufflebag.willfivemilliondollarsfitinto

this?christian’sgymbagislyingthereonthefloor.iopenit,expectingto

finditfullofdirtylaundry,butno—

hisgymkitiscleanandfresh.mrs.jonesdoesindeedgeteverywhere.i

dumpthecontentsontothefloorandstuffhisgymbagintomyduffle.there,

thatshoulddoit.icheckthatiha一vemydriver’slicenseasidentificationfor

thebankandcheckthetime.it’sbeenthirty-oneminutessincejackcalled.

nowijustha一vetogetoutofescalawithoutsawyerseeingme.

imakemywayslowlyandquietlytothefoyer,awareofthecctv

camerawhichistrainedontheelevator.ithinksawyer’sstillintaylor’s

office.cautiously,iopenthefoyerdoor,makingaslittlenoiseaspossible.

shuttingitquietlybehindme,istandontheverythreshold,upagainstthe

door,outoftheviewofthecctvlens.ifishmycellphoneoutofmypurse

andcallsawyer.

“mrs.grey.”

“sawyer,i’mintheroomupstairs,willyougivemeahandwithsomething?”i

keepmyvoicelow,knowinghe’sjustdownthehallwayontheothersideof

thisdoor.

“i’llberightwithyou,ma’am,”hesays,andihearhisconfusion.i’venever

telephonedhimforhelpbefore.myheartisinmythroat,poundingina

jarring,freneticrhythm.willthiswork?ihangupandlistenashisfootsteps

crossthehallwayandgoupthestairs.itakeanotherdeepsteadyingbreath

andbrieflycontemplatetheironyofescapingfrommyownhomelikeafelon.

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eljames

oncesawyer’sreachedtheupstairslanding,iracetotheelevatorandpunch

thecallbutton.thedoorsslideopenwiththetoo-loudpingthatannounces

theelevatorisready.idashinsideandfranticallystabthebuttonforthe

basementgarage.afteranagonizingpause,thedoorsslowlystarttoslide

shut,andastheydoihearsawyer’scries.

“mrs.grey!”justastheelevatordoorsclose,iseehimskidintothefoyer.

“ana!”heshoutsindisbelief.buthe’stoolate,andhedisappearsfromview.

theelevatorsinkssmoothlydowntothegaragelevel.iha一veacoupleof

minutes’startonsawyer,andiknowhe’lltrytostopme.iglancelonginglyat

myr8asirushtothesaab,openthedoor,tosstheduffelbagontothe

passengerseat,andslideintothedriver’sseat.istartthesaab,andthetires

squealasiracetotheentranceandwaitelevenagonizingsecondsforthe

barriertolift.theinstantit’sclearidriveout,catchingsightofsawyerinmy

rearviewmirrorashedashesoutofserviceelevatorintothegarage.his

bewildered,injuredexpressionhauntsmeasiturnofftherampontofourth

avenue.iletoutmylongheldbreath.iknowsawyerwillcallchristianor

taylor,buti’lldealwiththatwheniha一veto—idon’tha一vetimetodwellonit

now.isquirmuncomfortablyinmyseat,knowinginmyheartofheartsthat

sawyer’sprobablylosthisjob.don’tdwell.iha一vetosa一vemia.iha一vetoget

tothebankandcollectfivemilliondollars.iglanceintherearviewmirror,

nervouslyanticipatingthesightofthesuvburstingforthfromthegarage,but

asidriveaway,there’snosignofsawyer.

thebankissleek,modern,andunderstated.therearehushedtones,

echoingfloors,andpalegreenetchedglasseverywhere.istridetothe

informationdesk.

“canihelpyou,ma’am?”theyoungwomangivesmeabright,insincere

smile,andforamomentiregretchangingintojeans.

“i’dliketowithdrawalargesumofmoney.”

ms.insinceresmilearchesanevenmoreinsincereeyebrow.

“youha一veanaccountwithus?”shefailstohidehersarcasm.

“yes,”isnap.“myhusbandandiha一veseveralaccountshere.hisnameis

christiangrey.”

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fiftyshadesfreed

hereyeswidenfractionallyandinsinceritygiveswaytoshock.hereyes

sweepupanddownmeoncemore,thistimewithacombinationofdisbelief

andawe.

“thisway,ma’am,”shewhispers,andleadsmetoasmall,sparsely

furnishedofficewalledwithmoregreen-etchedglass.

“pleasetakeaseat.”shegesturestoablackleatherchairbyaglassdesk

bearingastate-of-the-artcomputerandphone.“howmuchwillyoube

withdrawingtoday,mrs.grey?”sheaskspleasantly.

“fivemilliondollars.”ilookherstraightintheeyeasifiaskforthisamountof

casheveryday.

sheblanches.“isee.i’llfetchthemanager.oh,forgivemeforasking,butdo

youha一veid?”

“ido.buti’dliketospeaktothemanager.”

“ofcourse,mrs.grey.”shescurriesout.isinkintotheseat,andawa一veof

nauseawashesovermeasthegunpressesuncomfortablyintothesmallof

myback.notnow.ican’tbesicknow.itakeadeepcleansingbreath,and

thewa一vepasses.nervously,icheckmywatch.twenty-fivepasttwo.

amiddle-agedmanenterstheroom.hehasarecedinghairline,butwearsa

sharp,expensivecharcoalsuitandmatchingtie.heholdsouthishand.

“mrs.grey.i’mtroywhelan.”hesmiles,weshake,andhesitsdownatthe

deskoppositeme.

“mycolleaguetellsmeyou’dliketowithdrawalargeamountofmoney.”

“that’scorrect.fivemilliondollars.”

heturnstohissleekcomputerandtapsinafewnumbers.

“wenormallyaskforsomenoticeforlargeamountsofmoney.”hepauses,

andflashesmeareassuringbutsupercilioussmile.

“fortunately,however,weholdthecashreservefortheentirepacific

northwest,”heboasts.jeez,ishetryingtoimpressme?

“mr.whelan,i’minahurry.whatdoineedtodo?iha一vemydriver’slicense,

andourjointaccountcheckbook.doijustwriteacheck?”

“firstthingsfirst,mrs.grey.mayiseetheid?”heswitchesfromjovialshowoff

toseriousbanker.

“here.”ihandovermylicense.

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eljames

“mrs.grey...thissaysanastasiasteele.”

ohshit.

“oh...yes.um.”

“i’llcallmr.grey.”

“ohno,thatwon’tbenecessary.”shit!“imustha一vesomethingwithmy

marriedname.”iriflethroughmypurse.whatdoiha一vewithmynameonit?i

pulloutmywallet,openitandfindaphotographofchristianandme,onthe

bedinfairlady’scabin.ican’tshowhimthat!idigoutmyblackamex.

“here.”

“mrs.anastasiagrey,”whelanreads.“yes,thatshoulddo.”hefrowns.“this

ishighlyirregular,mrs.grey.

“doyouwantmetoletmyhusbandknowthatyourbankhasbeenlessthan

cooperative?”isquaremyshouldersandgivehimmymostforbiddingstare.

hepauses,momentarilyreassessingme,ithink.“you’llneedtowritea

check,mrs.grey.”

“sure.thisaccount?”ishowhimmycheckbook,tryingtoquellmypounding

heart

“that’llbefine.i’llalsoneedyoutocompletesomeadditionalpaperwork.if

you’llexcusemeforamoment?”

inod,andherisesandstalksoutoftheoffice.again,ireleasemyheld

breath.ihadnoideathiswouldbesodifficult.clumsily,iopenmy

checkbookandpullapenoutofmypurse.doijustmakeitouttocash?i

ha一venoidea.withshakingfingersiwrite:fivemilliondollars.

$5,000,000.

ohgod,ihopei’mdoingtherightthing.mia,thinkofmia.ican’ttell

anyone.

jack’schilling,repugnantwordshauntme.“tellnooneori’llfuckherup

beforeikillher.”

mr.whelanreturns,pale-facedandsheepish.

“mrs.grey?yourhusbandwantstospeakwithyou,”hemurmursandpoints

tothephoneontheglasstablebetweenus.what?no.

“he’sonlineone.justpressthebutton.i’llbeoutside.”hehasthegraceto

lookembarrassed.benedictarnoldhasnothingonwhelan.iscowlathim,

feelingtheblooddrainfrommyfaceagainasheshuffles419|page

fiftyshadesfreed

outoftheoffice.

shit!shit!shit!whatamigoingtosaytochristian?he’llknow.he’ll

intervene.he’sadangertohissister.myhandtremblesasireachforthe

phone.iholditagainstmyear,tryingtocalmmyerraticbreathing,andpress

thebuttonforlineone.

“hi,”imurmur,tryinginvaintosteadymynerves.

“you’relea一vingme?”christian’swordsareanagonized,breathlesswhisper.