Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21 Fleeing From The Billionaire

The train jolted. Steel wheels shrieked against the wet tracks. The intercom crackled overhead, announcing our arrival in Port Sterling. Three hundred miles from the life I knew. Three hundred miles from the man who broke me.

I grabbed the handles of my canvas duffel bag. My muscles burned with the effort. Dr. Vargas ordered bed rest. He warned me the stress could end my pregnancy. I ignored the ache radiating through my lower back. Rest belonged to people with safety nets. possessed nothing but the clothes on my back and a roll of cash in my pocket. I stepped off the train and merged into the crowd of

strangers.

Port Sterling was a gray, unforgiving city situated on the northern coast. The wind blowing off the harbor tasted of salt, diesel exhaust, and freezing rain. The towering glass skyscrapers of my former home did not exist here. Instead, cracked brick buildings and rusted fire escapes lined the narrow streets. It was the perfect place to vanish. Tristan owned the polished parts of the world.

He would never hunt for me in the rust.

I walked for two miles. I avoided the main avenues, sticking to the shadows of the industrial district. My wet canvas shoes slapped the broken pavement. I passed closed diners and fenced-off auto shops. I found a rundown brick apartment complex squeezed between a liquor store and a vacant lot. A faded cardboard sign hung in the front window. Room for Rent. Cash Required. I pushed the heavy glass door open. A brass bell jingled above my head. A man with a thick gray beard and exhausted eyes sat behind a scuffed wooden counter. He looked at my wet hair, my torn coat, and the dark red scab forming on my cheekbone.

“First and last month, the man rasped, his voice rough from cigarette smoke. “Six hundred total. Shared bathroom at the end of the hall. Hot water works in the morning. No loud noises past ten.”

I unzipped my duffel bag. I pulled out my roll of cash. I counted six hundred dollars. The stack felt thin in my hands. I pushed the bills across the scratched wood.

The man snatched the money. He counted the bills with practiced speed, then tossed a brass key onto the counter. Room 402. Fourth floor. Elevator is broken.’

“Thank you,’ I said.

‘Name?’ he asked. He pulled a stained ledger from beneath the desk and clicked a cheap plastic pen.

I froze. The word Mina sat on the tip of my tongue. Tristan gave me that nanie. He took Minerva and sanded down the edges. He made it soft. He made it delicate. Mina, wait for me in the car. Mina, keep this a secret for a little longer. Mina, let me handle the press. He used that soft name as a leash to keep me hidden and compliant.

I swallowed the word. I tasted the bitter memory and forced it down. Mina died on the ballroom floor of the Grand Hawthorne Hotel. She bled out while her husband stood ten feet away, protecting his empire instead of his vows.

“Minerva,” I answered. My voice rang clear and hard in the empty lobby. “Minerva Hayes.”

The man scribbled the name in the ledger. He did not look up. He did not care.

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Chapter 21 Fleeing From The Billionaire

I took the key and climbed the four flights of stairs. Each step sent a sharp throb of pain through my abdomen. I stopped twice on the concrete landings to catch my breath. I rested my hand against the peeling yellow paint of the wall. I pressed my other hand over my stomach. I promised the tiny life inside me that the climbing would end soon.

Room 402 was a concrete box. A bare twin mattress lay on the scuffed wooden floor. A single window offered a view of the brick wall next door. A radiator hissed in the corner, leaking a small puddle of brown water onto the floorboards. A rusted metal folding chair sat in the center of the room.

I locked the deadbolt. I dropped my bag. I walked to the mattress and sat down.

The silence of the room crashed over me. No string quartets. No flashbulbs. No high-society whispers. No empty promises whispered in the dark. Just the sound of the coastal rain hitting the glass and my own uneven breathing.

I pulled my knees to my chest. I rested my chin on my arms. I closed my eyes and let the reality of my new life settle into my

bones.

I possessed three hundred and forty dollars. I owned no assets. I carried a child fathered by a man who treated me like a corporate

liability.

I reached into the pocket of my sweatpants. I pulled out the glossy ultrasound photo Dr. Vargas gave me.

The edges were crumpled from the journey. I smoothed the paper against my knee. I stared at the dark circle. The tiny white pixel in the center anchored me to the present.

“We are alone,” I whispered to the empty room. “He chose them. I choose you.”

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