CHAPTER 2- The Aftermath

Fifty-three missed calls. Two hundred fourteen texts. I use Jared's phone. Mine is at the bottom of a puddle.

Billionaire Heir Exposes Gold Digger

I turn it face-down. My head is pounding. The silver dress from last night is on the floor. I don't remember getting here.

"You're awake." Jared is in the doorway. Twenty-eight. My best friend since we were kids.

Looks like he didn't sleep. "What time is it?"

"Seven."

Everything hurts."How bad is the situation? Show me."

He hands me the phone. Four million views. Hate comments. Someone posted my boutique's address and the name of my apartment building.

"They're outside both places," Jared says. "Reporters. People with signs."

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

I kissed him instead of saying it back. I should've said it. It's too late now.

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.

Three days to pack my life. Text buzzes.

Margaret is terminating your employment effective immediately. Media attention is damaging the store. I'm so sorry. - Sophie

I lost my apartment. Lost a job. Everything in twelve hours. The phone rings. It's Caleb. Forty-seven missed calls. I should ignore it, I answer anyway.

"What.?”

Silence. Then his voice, rough. "Lena, we need to talk. About the baby. What happens next?"

"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.I lost my apartment. Three days to get out because protesters are outside. Lost my job because customers are threatening boycotts. I can't go home, can't work, can't exist without people screaming at me."

"I didn't know. I didn't think…”.

"You didn't care. You cared about your reputation. Not me. Not our baby."

"I want to make this right. Money for an apartment, job, whatever you need…"

"I don't want your money! 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. You made your choice. Live with it." I hang up.

The phone rings. Caleb again, I block him. It rings from a different number, then another. I turn it off.

Jared comes back.

"Ready to leave. You can't stay here. I have money saved. We'll find you somewhere small. Somewher, no one knows who Caleb Vaughn is."

"I can't ask…"

"You're not asking. You're my family. Family doesn't leave when things get hard."

Something cracks in me. "Why?"

"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 come. Jared pulls me close. By noon, he's driving to my apartment to pack. I wait. He sends photos. Twelve people outside holding signs.

“GOLD DIGGER”

“BABY TRAP”

“LIAR”

They don't even know me. Two hours later, driving out of the city. Everything I own in his trunk. Two suitcases. Three boxes. I watch the skyline shrink. Hand on stomach. "Just us now." I whisper.

I fall asleep past the suburbs, I wake up at the bus station.

"I can't take you all the way," Jared says. "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 don't believe him. An hour later, i'm on a bus heading west. Back row, with my hat low. There's a woman with a crying baby up front. She rocks him gently and kisses his forehead.

My chest aches. That'll be me in six months. Alone. The bus stops, and people get on. A man in a suit walks down the aisle. Looking at faces.

My heart pounds. He stops beside my row. "Is this seat taken?"

"No."

He sits.

"Long trip?"

"Yeah."

"Where to?"

"Family."

I close my eyes and pretend to sleep. The bus moves. I risk a glance. He's looking out the window. Just a passenger. Something presses into my hand, and then I open my eyes. He's now looking at me.

"Ms. Hart. Take this." My blood turns to ice. He places an 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. He gets off at the next stop. Gone. They found me on a bus in the middle of nowhere. How?

I pull my phone from my pocket. It's off. They still tracked it. I go to the bathroom and throw it out the window. I tear the custody envelope. They can serve papers, track me, and try to take my baby. But I'm not making it easy. The bus drives through the night.

I close my eyes and wake up hours later. Dark. The bus stopped. I'm the only one awake. Across the aisle, there's a newspaper. My face on the front page.

“FUGITIVE MOTHER FLEES STATE WITH UNBORN VAUGHN HEIR”

“$50,000 REWARD FOR INFORMATION”

Fifty thousand dollars. I look around. The driver is watching me in the mirror. Our eyes meet. He reaches beside his seat. Phone lit up. My face. Headline. The bus starts moving.

It's not going west anymore. It's turning around.