Running Away With a Billionaire’s Heir

One month ago, I was the happiest person alive on the earth.Ethan, my husband of five years, spared no limits showing his affections for me. He even insisted I stop designing dresses for elites because he just couldn't tolerate seeing me tired.To prove his love, he even bought a private Island and named it after my name, making me the most envied woman of the city.And all that he wanted from me was a baby just like me, an heir to his empire. I have been trying for five years and I was pregnant. Finally!I wanted to disclose the news to Ethan as soon as possible. But, my phone buzzed. The name of the buyer who had transferred a fortune to my account just to buy my limited edition dress a week ago was revealed.Though Ethan did not like it, I continued my career with a different name.However, the floor beneath me trembled as the name of the buyer of my dress popped up on my screen.Ethan Morgan.He bought the dress for a hundred million a week ago yet I had no idea about it. I

The front door clicked open at precisely 7:00 PM.I sat in the dim light of the living room, a book open in my lap that I hadn't read a single word of. I had moved from his study minutes ago, scrubbing the touch of his desk from my fingertips, but the images of Maya in my silk robe were seared into my retinas, so lively that the sight of our bedroom disgusted me."Elena? Sweetheart, why are you sitting in the dark?"Ethan’s voice was like velvet, smooth and comforting. He walked toward me, shedding his charcoal suit jacket with a weary elegance. He looked every bit the hardworking, devoted husband. But as he leaned down to kiss my forehead, the air around him shifted.Before, I would have breathed him in, finding safety in his scent. Now, my skin crawled. Beneath the familiar aroma of his expensive cologne and the faint smell of the office, there was something else. A floral, cloying sweetness.Maya’s perfume!"You look pale," he said, his thumb tracing my cheekbone with a tenderness

Third person's POVThe emergency meeting Ethan had so dramatically announced was, in reality, a suite three floors below the penthouse. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the facade of the devoted, doting husband vanished, replaced by a hungry, reckless impatience.Maya was waiting for him, draped in silk that cost more than a mid-sized car—a gift from Ethan’s business account."You took your time," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I thought you were actually going to spend the night with her."Ethan let out a rough laugh, tossing his blazer onto a chair. "How can that be? I have prepared so much to spend this time with you, babe.""Let's not talk about her anymore. It's only you who is important to me."He didn't think of Elena’s pale face or the way she had touched her belly. He only thought of the adrenaline of the secret. He spent the night losing himself in Maya, drowning out the faint, nagging voice of his conscience with expensive champagne and whisper

The flight back to New York was the longest ten hours of Ethan Morgan’s life. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Maya’s triumphant, malicious grin and then the sterile, empty penthouse in Paris. The silence of that suite had been a physical blow, but he clung to a single, desperate thread of logic. Elena was a creature of habit. She was soft, she was loyal, and she loved the home they had built together.She would be there. She had to be.Ethan didn't wait for his driver to open the door. He lunged out of the car before it had fully stopped in the driveway of their Westchester estate. He didn't use the key; he pounded on the door until the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, opened it with a startled gasp."Where is she?" Ethan demanded, pushing past her into the grand foyer."Mr. Morgan? You weren't expected until—""Elena! Is she upstairs?" He didn't wait for an answer, his boots thundering against the marble as he took the stairs two at a time. He burst into the master suite, his heart ham

The Morgan empire continued to churn out billions, but its king was rotting from the inside out.For six months, the grand Westchester estate had transformed from a symbol of status into a tomb. Ethan Morgan no longer wore the bespoke Italian suits that once defined his silhouette. Now, he paced the dark corridors in a disheveled shirt, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, fueled by nothing but black coffee and a manic, agonizing regret.Every surface of his study was covered in grainy surveillance stills, private investigator reports, and maps of the tri-state area."Another dead end?" Ethan’s voice was a jagged rasp as he glared at Marcus."Sir, the car that picked her up from the hotel was a rental paid for with a burner card. We tracked it to a scrapyard in New Jersey. It was crushed three days ago. There’s... there’s no trail left."Ethan swept a stack of papers off his desk in a fit of silence rage. "She’s six months pregnant, Marcus! She has anemia! She can't just vanish into thin air