Nobody's Daughter

Aaliyah

Aaliyah’s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as she sprinted through the alleyways, her heels clicking erratically against the cobblestone streets of Palma de Mallorca. The wind bit through her gown, the fabric a strange and heavy reminder of the life she had just abandoned. She didn’t care about the dress. She didn’t care about anything except the pounding of her heart in her chest and the beat of her footsteps echoing off the stone walls that closed her in.

I’m free. I’m free.

The thought reverberated in her mind, but it felt more like a prayer than a reality. Each step was a physical declaration of independence, but the weight of her decision was sinking in faster than her feet could carry her.

The town was alive with the sounds of distant conversations, the soft hum of a bar or two tucked behind the narrow, winding streets, but it felt like a different world now. This was a place where she had been invisible before, a place where no one cared that a woman like her existed. But right now, all Aaliyah could see was her own reflection in every alley she passed—a woman running away from her past, from the people who had made her who she was supposed to be, or rather, who they wanted her to be.

The gate was far behind her now, and with it, the walls of the estate that had contained her entire life. She had made it.

But now what?

The question hit her like a brick, a suffocating realization that tightened her chest and made her pause in the middle of an alley. The wind was cold against her bare arms, and her body shivered, the adrenaline rush beginning to wear off as the reality of her situation began to settle in.

Aaliyah stopped, panting, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. She glanced over her shoulder as though expecting someone to be there—Cruz, the guards, someone—but there was nothing. Only empty street, only the endless alleyways that twisted and turned in ways she didn’t know. The sense of relief she’d felt earlier was quickly evaporating, replaced by a gnawing dread.

She should have planned better. She should have prepared.

Her gaze fell to her hands, the hands that were not clutching the bag she had intended to take—her bag with the essentials she’d meticulously packed for this very moment. The passport, the emergency cash, the burner phone, the small stash of clothes for the journey.

It was back at the estate. Inside the bridal suite.

She had forgotten it. Forgotten to grab it in the rush to get away, in the panic of deciding to leave before the ceremony had even started. She had been so determined to run that she hadn’t even thought to grab the most important thing she would need.

I can’t believe I did that.

A wave of frustration washed over her, tightening the muscles in her throat, making her stomach churn. What was she supposed to do now? She was on her own, without supplies, without any real plan.

Think, Aaliyah. Think.

She forced herself to calm down, to focus. There had to be another way. There had to be another route out of here. She wasn’t stupid. She could figure this out.

Her eyes scanned her surroundings as she stood in the narrow alley, the cool night air mingling with the smell of saltwater and fried food from a nearby restaurant. A few people walked past, but none seemed to notice her. None paid her any attention—just like always, just like she had wanted it, until now.

But now, with no money and no phone, she was just another stranger in a strange town. A woman with no name, no plan, no purpose.

Aaliyah felt the reality of it all closing in—the consequences of her choices now that she was on the outside. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. You’ll never get away from your responsibilities. You’ll never get away from the life we’ve built for you.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. I don’t care what he thinks. I’m done with it all.

But what was she going to do? She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t wander through the streets forever. The thought of returning to the estate was unthinkable, but what other option did she have?

She turned a corner, her eyes darting down another street. There were no signs of anyone looking for her, no signs of Cruz. But the fact that Aaliyah didn’t see anyone didn’t comfort her—it only reminded her that Cruz and the guards could be anywhere.

She had to get off the streets.

Her gaze landed on a small café at the end of the alley. The warm light spilling out through the glass door seemed like a beacon in the darkness, a temporary refuge. She needed a moment to breathe, to gather her thoughts. But more than that, she needed to do something. She needed to get away—far away.

Aaliyah approached the door of the café, hesitant for just a moment, then pushed it open. The bell above the door chimed softly, and the smell of fresh bread and roasted coffee filled her senses. The inside was cozy, quiet, with only a handful of people at tables scattered around the small room. A few patrons glanced up, but none seemed to recognize her, which was a small relief. She could blend in here, she could take a few minutes to think.

Her hands were shaking as she slipped into a seat by the window, pushing her gown down as she sat. She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, trying to calm her nerves.

What now?

She needed a phone, but she had no way of contacting anyone. No burner phone, no emergency contacts. If she was lucky, she might find someone who could lend her their phone, but even then, who would she call? The thought of reaching out to anyone from her old life made her stomach twist. It would only bring her closer to everything she was running from.

She needed to get out of the country. She needed to go far, far away from her father’s reach, from the people who had controlled her every move.

But she had nothing. She had no resources, no plan beyond running. And she was starting to realize that maybe—just maybe—running had been easier than knowing how to survive on her own.

Aaliyah placed her hands flat on the table and took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now.

There was always a way out. She just had to find it.

And she would.

Cruz

Cruz stood at the edge of the garden, her pulse still pounding in her ears as she watched Aaliyah disappear into the shadows of the estate grounds. Her mind was spinning, her body already in motion before she had time to think.

She's gone. She actually went.

Aaliyah’s sudden decision to run—before the ceremony had even started—had thrown Cruz off balance. She had been prepared for many things, but not this. Not an act of defiance so complete, so utterly final.

She forced her focus back onto the task. Aaliyah wasn’t the first person to try to escape her duty, but Cruz’s instinct told her this wouldn’t be a simple chase. Aaliyah wasn’t just running from the marriage. She was running from the life that had been constructed around her, a life that was about to collapse in on itself.

But that didn’t matter. Cruz’s job was clear. She was here to complete the mission, to ensure Aaliyah’s safety and the success of the mission. Period.

With a sharp inhale, Cruz turned on her heel, snapping her gaze over her shoulder to the remaining guards. They were already on their way to the gate, fanning out to search the perimeter. They hadn’t seen Aaliyah slip past them, but they were already beginning their sweep.

She can’t have gotten far, Cruz thought as she adjusted her stance and set her sights on the bridal suite. She knew Aaliyah’s escape had been spontaneous, but there had to be clues. No one ever made a clean break without leaving a trail. It was only a matter of finding it.

She sprinted back toward the estate, moving quickly, her military training pushing her into action with precision. The large stone steps leading to the bridal suite were silent under her boots, but she could hear the distant chatter of the other guards—their voices muffled and distant. They were too far away to help her now, so it was up to Cruz to find Aaliyah before she slipped too far into the night.

The bridal suite door was ajar, and Cruz didn’t hesitate as she pushed it open. The room was eerily still, the heavy curtains drawn, the soft golden glow of the lamps illuminating the high, vaulted ceilings. The vast space felt empty without Aaliyah in it. The room that should have been filled with the bride’s last-minute preparations now felt like a shell, hollow and cold.

Cruz’s sharp eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. The bed was still made, the white silk sheets smooth and unruffled. On the dressing table, Aaliyah’s jewelry lay in neat rows—necklaces, bracelets, a pair of earrings. Her dressing gown was draped over a chair, elegant and pristine, the embroidery glistening faintly in the low light. But none of this mattered.

Cruz moved with methodical precision, walking around the room, her senses heightened. She had to think like Aaliyah. What would she have done?

It was then that Cruz saw it. Beneath the bed, just barely visible, was a small, unassuming black bag. Aaliyah’s getaway bag. Cruz crouched down, her fingers brushing against the smooth fabric as she pulled it into view. The bag was small, compact—perfect for a quick exit. It wasn’t the kind of bag one would take on a luxurious trip. It was designed for a quick getaway, a no-nonsense escape.

Her fingers moved quickly as she unzipped the bag, pulling out the contents with practiced speed. Inside, she found a passport, several hundred dollars in mixed currency, a burner phone, a few changes of clothes—clothes that were practical, simple. Aaliyah had planned for this. She had been prepared.

Cruz felt a pang of frustration. This wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment escape; Aaliyah had intended to leave. She had been thinking about this for days, maybe even weeks. And Cruz, along with everyone else in the room, had been blind to it.

She stood up, quickly shoving the bag under her arm, glancing over her shoulder as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway outside. The guards were starting to gather, and they would be expecting an update. But Cruz knew she couldn’t waste any more time here. Not with Aaliyah already on the move.

She needed to get into the town. Aaliyah couldn’t have gone far. She might have been disoriented, but with the bag in her hands, Cruz knew that Aaliyah wasn’t completely without direction. The phone would be her best lead. Whoever Aaliyah contacted would likely be able to tell Cruz where she was heading, or at least, what her next move was.

Cruz stepped quickly out of the suite, the door clicking shut behind her. She made her way through the hallways, her eyes already scanning for the quickest exit. She didn’t have time for explanations. The guards had their orders, but this was personal. Aaliyah’s flight wasn’t just about the mission—it was about someone who had made a decision to claim her own freedom.

Cruz’s mind was sharp, cutting through the cloud of emotions and focusing on the task at hand. She needed to get to town, but the first thing was to secure the burner phone. If she could track Aaliyah’s call history or any recent activity, she might have a chance of getting ahead of her.

The mansion loomed large behind her as she crossed the courtyard, her boots clicking with purpose. The sounds of guards shouting and calling out to each other began to fade into the background as Cruz made her way to the vehicle she had hidden nearby.

Once inside, she immediately pulled out the burner phone and powered it on. It was basic—a no-frills model, designed to keep a low profile. Cruz’s fingers moved swiftly as she checked the contacts and messages. There was nothing in the recent activity, but the phone was still a goldmine. If Aaliyah had made a call or sent a message before her escape, Cruz could track it.

The drive to the town was quick, the narrow roads leading her toward the bustling streets. Cruz’s mind worked through the possible routes Aaliyah could have taken. She couldn’t have gotten far.

Aaliyah didn’t have much of a head start. She didn’t have the kind of time it would take to vanish.

The small coastal town appeared before her, a patchwork of winding streets and colorful buildings. The night had fallen, but the streets were still alive with activity. It was an easy place to get lost in, but Cruz wasn’t worried. She wasn’t going to let Aaliyah slip away.

Cruz pulled into a narrow alley, her vehicle hidden from view. She reached for the bag with Aaliyah’s supplies and threw it over her shoulder, stepping into the night.

She had one goal now.

Find Aaliyah. Before anyone else does.