05 | Running Away Is No Longer an Option

I couldn’t fall back asleep after that. I spent the entire night thinking of ways to escape this situation. I needed to find a way to cut Richard out of my life entirely and ensure he couldn’t claim any right to my son — a child I love with all my heart and have worked so hard to raise.

When my alarm went off, I paused the N*****x series I’d been watching and turned off the alarm. Dragging myself out of bed, I headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, then dressed slowly and deliberately.

Being considered an It Girl was never part of my plan, but when my brand took off nearly three years ago, the spotlight turned to me. For months, I thought Richard deserved to see me thriving without him — just my talent and hard work propelling me forward.

During that time, I kept my pregnancy a secret and never let Ryan be exposed to the world. My little boy was my treasure, and I didn’t want his face splashed across every magazine. I had learned to separate my personal and professional lives quite well.

I chose a knee-length skirt, black tights, a white blouse with a shimmering fabric that crossed at the neck, and a black leather belt with gold details. I accessorized with earrings, necklaces, and rings from my exclusive line and applied a bit of makeup.

When I was finished, I grabbed my bag, which was already packed and waiting on the bed, along with my folder of documents for our potential new business partner and my sleek black heels. Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt that familiar rush of power — the sense that the world was at my feet.

I left my room with a renewed sense of purpose. I stopped by Ryan’s room to kiss his forehead and gently caressed his chubby little cheek. He truly was the best part of my world.

By the time I reached the kitchen, the house was already alive with activity. Brittany greeted me with a sheepish smile, while Eloy sipped his coffee.

“Good morning,” I said, sitting down with a smile.

“Good morning,” Eloy and Britt replied in unison.

“Hey, is it okay if you handle presenting these files alone today?” Eloy asked.

“We had a scheduling conflict,” Britt explained. “We’re meeting with a trending influencer, and I can’t let your brother go alone, as you well know.”

“I understand; it’s no problem.” I smiled. “So, today’s going to be a long day. How about some Thai food later? Think you can whip something up?” I asked Eloy, my eyes lighting up.

“Did I step down as head chef of my restaurant just to become yours?” he grumbled.

“Yes,” Britt and I replied in unison.

“Fine, what don’t I do for you two?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“By the way, what’s his name again?” I asked, flipping open my folder and taking a bite of a buttered roll.

“Paul Laurecent,” Britt said. “He’s a department head and is being sent directly by the company’s owner.”

“And which company is it?” I asked, curious.

I hadn’t been as involved in this project as I was now over the past few days. Balancing the creation of new pieces while trying to finish the previous collection was incredibly complicated.  

“Ah, it’s Hart&Co.,” Eloy said. I froze mid-bite, lowering my roll and staring at him. “I’m sorry.”  

“Why are we doing business with them?” I asked, my brow furrowing.  

“They’re my family, Mel,” Britt said with a sigh. “I’m sorry... I didn’t know.”  

“I understand you, Britt. What I don’t get is how Eloy let this happen, setting me up to trip over myself,” I grumbled.  

“Read the proposal. It’s a good opportunity for us to expand Rosed,” he explained. “We need to keep the capital flowing. We own a luxury brand, but we still have room to grow. The Harts have a new proposal for exclusive designer handbags, meant to be one-of-a-kind pieces. Combining our jewelry with their bags could create a powerhouse in the luxury market.”  

I sighed. It was everything I had wanted for so long, but I never imagined I’d have to work with Richard to achieve it. He was, after all, the one designing the bags — especially for major projects like this. As I looked through the designs, I could tell they were his. They carried his style and unmistakable signature.  

After eating and talking more with Eloy, who assured me I wouldn’t have to meet Richard in person, I arrived at the restaurant for the meeting.  

I took my seat at the table reserved under my name and ordered a water while scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself. I was engrossed in what I was doing when that unmistakable voice broke through my thoughts:  

“Melissa?”  

My eyes snapped up, widening as I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. My fingers clenched around my phone — a poor, innocent victim in all of this.  

“Mr. Hart. Can I help you?”  

“Paul fell ill. I didn’t want to send someone else to this meeting,” he said, shaking my hand. His eyes locked onto mine, studying me intently. “I couldn’t risk this partnership being handled by incompetents, so I decided to come myself.”  

I swallowed hard and nodded. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, show weakness in front of him. It would be the biggest mistake I could make — and right now, I couldn’t afford any mistakes.  

“Take a seat, Mr. Hart,” I said, signaling to the nearest waiter.  

We ordered coffee, with Richard apologizing and admitting he hadn’t eaten that morning. He ordered an absurd amount of food, shamelessly comfortable acting so casual in my presence.  

When the waiter left, I noticed him studying me again, a frown forming on his face.  

“So, Mr. Hart, shall we resume our meeting?” I asked, exhaling sharply.  

“No,” he said firmly.  

“What? Why not?” I asked, confused.  

“You can’t run from me forever,” he stated plainly.  

“I’m not running.” I shrugged. “I’m here, and we’re discussing business.”  

“No, Melissa. I want to know why you lied to me, why you left, and why you never gave me the chance to explain.”