CHAPTER 2- The Aftermath

Fifty-three missed calls. Two hundred fourteen texts. I stare at the screen on Jared’s phone while mine sits at the bottom of some dirty puddle.

“Billionaire Heir Exposes Gold Digger”

My stomach drops. I flip the phone face-down, my head throbbing. The silver dress I wore last night is crumpled on the floor. I still don’t remember how I even got here.

“You’re awake,” Jared says from the doorway.

He looks wrecked, twenty-eight, my best friend since we were kids, and clearly hasn’t slept a wink. Dark circles sit heavy under his eyes.

“What time is it?” I ask, my voice scratchy.

“Seven.”

Everything hurts. “How bad is it? Show me.”

He hesitates, then hands me the phone. Four million views already. The comments are brutal. Someone’s posted the address of my boutique and my apartment building.

“They’re outside both places,” he says quietly. “Reporters. People holding signs.”

Two months ago, Caleb surprised me with breakfast in bed. He told me he wanted to wake up to my face every morning for the rest of his life. I laughed and said that’s what people say when they’re in love. But he got serious. “I am in love. With you.”

I kissed him instead of saying it back. I should’ve told him. Now it’s too late, and that regret sits heavy in my chest.

The phone rings, unknown number.

“Ms. Hart, this is David Chen, your landlord. You need to vacate by the end of the week. Three days.” He hangs up before I can say a word.

Three days. That’s all I have left. Another text buzzes through.

“Margaret is terminating your employment effective immediately. The media attention is damaging the store. I’m so sorry. Sophie”

My apartment. My job. Gone in twelve hours. The phone starts ringing again. It’s Caleb. Forty-seven missed calls. I know I shouldn’t, but I answer anyway.

“What?”

There’s a long pause before his voice comes through, rough and tired. “Lena, we need to talk. About the baby. What happens next?”

My throat tightens. “Discuss what? How you called me a gold digger in front of five hundred people? How you offered me money to make our baby disappear?”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. The shock… I reacted badly. But we need to talk—”

“What happens next is you leave me alone.” My voice wavers. “I lost my apartment. I have three days to get out because protesters are screaming outside. I lost my job because customers are threatening boycotts. I can’t go home. I can’t work. I can’t even exist without people shouting at me.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t care.” The words burn coming out. “You cared about your reputation. Not me. Not our baby.”

“I want to make this right. Money for an apartment, a job, whatever you need—”

“I don’t want your money!” Tears sting my eyes. “I wanted you to be happy about our baby. I wanted you to choose us. But you made your choice.”

“The baby…”

“Is none of your business.”

“That’s my child.”

“You gave up that right when you called it a trap. When you offered money to make it disappear.” I rest my hand on my stomach without thinking. “You made your choice. Live with it.”

I hang up, my heart racing. The phone starts ringing again right away, Caleb. I block the number with shaky fingers. It rings from a different one, then another. I turn the whole thing off. The silence feels too quiet.

Jared steps back into the room, steady as always.

“Ready to leave. You can’t stay here. I’ve got some money saved. We’ll find you somewhere small. Somewhere no one knows who Caleb Vaughn is.”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking,” he says gently. “You’re my family. Family doesn’t leave when things get hard.”

Something inside me cracks. “Why?” I whisper.

“Because I know you. I’ve known you since you were twelve. I know you’re not a gold digger. I know you loved him. And that baby deserves better than being called a trap.”

Tears slip down my cheeks. Jared pulls me into a tight hug, and I hold onto him like he’s the only solid thing left in my world.

By noon, he’s driving over to my apartment to pack my stuff while I wait. He sends photos, twelve people outside holding signs that say:

“GOLD DIGGER”

“BABY TRAP”

“LIAR”

They don’t even know me. Two hours later, we’re leaving the city. Everything I own fits into two suitcases and three boxes in his trunk. I watch the skyline fade in the mirror, one hand on my stomach. “Just us now,” I whisper softly.

I fall asleep somewhere past the suburbs. When I wake up, we’re at the bus station.

“I can’t take you all the way,” Jared says, his voice thick. “But I got you a ticket to Montana. Tomorrow morning.”

He hugs me hard. “Call me every week.”

“I promise.”

“You’re going to be okay.”

I wish I could believe him.

An hour later, I’m sitting in the back row of the bus heading west, hat pulled low over my face. Up front, a woman rocks her crying baby and kisses his forehead. My chest aches. In six months, that’s going to be me—alone.

The bus pulls over. People get on. A man in a suit walks slowly down the aisle, looking at every face. My heart starts pounding. He stops right next to my row.

“Is this seat taken?”

“No.”

He sits down.

“Long trip?”

“Yeah.”

“Where to?”

“Family.”

I close my eyes and pretend to sleep, every nerve on edge. The bus keeps moving. After a while, I sneak a quick look, he’s just staring out the window. Relief starts to settle… until something presses into my hand.

I open my eyes. He’s looking right at me.

“Ms. Hart. Take this.” My blood runs cold as he places a thick envelope in my lap. “You’ve been served. Emergency custody hearing. Tuesday. You don’t show up, they win by default.”

He stands up and walks to the front without another word. He gets off at the next stop and disappears.

They found me. On a random bus in the middle of nowhere. How?

My hands shake as I pull out my phone. It’s off, but they still tracked it somehow. Heart racing, I head to the bathroom and throw the phone out the window into the dark. I rip the custody papers into pieces. They can try to serve me and hunt me down, but I’m not making it easy.

The bus rolls on through the night.

Hours later, I wake up in the dark. I’m the only one still awake. Across the aisle, someone left a newspaper open. My face is on the front page.

“FUGITIVE MOTHER FLEES STATE WITH UNBORN VAUGHN HEIR” 

“$50,000 REWARD FOR INFORMATION”

Fifty thousand dollars. I look up slowly. The driver is watching me in the rearview mirror. Our eyes meet. He reaches for the phone next to him, its screen lit up with my picture and the headline.

The bus starts to slow down, then it turns. It’s no longer heading west.