All Chapters of CRAP! MY BEDMATE IS A HIDDEN BILLIONAIRE : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Rain hit the pavement at 12:36 PM.Zara stepped off the curb first. Water soaked her shoes instantly. She didn’t flinch.James locked the door to 3C behind them. Useless gesture. They had twenty three hours before the building was legally empty. Vivienne owned the clock now.“Formation,” Zara said. “James front. Bisi, Daniel, middle. Me and Bastian, back.”James moved. No argument. He scanned Benson Street. A black sedan idled half a block down. Tinted windows. It didn’t follow when they moved. It didn’t need to. It already knew where they were going.Bisi had one hand on Daniel’s elbow. The other held the burner, screen down, but recording. The knife was gone. Pocket, probably. She looked at Zara.“You sure about this?” Bisi asked.“No,” Zara said. “But we’re doing it.”Bastian fell in beside her. The jacket was wrong. Sleeves short. Shoulders tight. Rain flattened his hair in two minutes. He looked nothing like a CEO. He looked like a man who chose to be cold.He didn’t speak. He wai

The rain was lighter when they stepped outside. Not stopped. Just tired. Like everything else.Channel 7’s van was gone. TMZ’s van was gone. Only water and two discarded coffee cups left on the curb. James had moved fast.Bastian pulled the collar of his jacket up. It didn’t help. The jacket was soaked through. His skin was cold. He didn’t mention it.“Status,” Zara said. Walking. Not waiting for him. Expecting him to keep up.“James texted,” Bastian said. He held up the burner. Screen cracked but working. “Clip sent. Channel 7 and TMZ both confirmed receipt. Daniel’s in the van. Bisi says he cried.”“Good,” Zara said. “Tears film honest.”“James says they’ll air at six,” Bastian said. “Both stations. Means we have four hours before Vivienne sees it.”“Four hours before she escalates,” Zara said. “She won’t wait for the news. She has her own cameras.”They passed Mercy General’s staff lot. Dean’s space was empty. Still gone since 12:41 PM. Vivienne got to him first or scared him off. E

The on-call room clock said 3:58 AM. No one was asleep. Not really. James stood at the door. He’d been awake since midnight. His watch. Then Bastian’s watch. Bastian hadn’t woken him. Bastian didn’t sleep. Zara sat on her bed with her shoe on. Paper towels replaced with gauze from the bathroom cabinet. The blister was closed now. Scar starting. Pain was data. Data said she could run if she had to. Bisi had the burner. No news. Channel 7 ran the clip at six, ten, and midnight. TMZ ran it hourly. Vivienne still hadn’t responded. That was worse than a statement. That was planning. Daniel was awake. Sitting up. Back against the wall. He hadn’t spoken since six eleven PM. He looked smaller in the dark. “Time,” James said. Zara stood. The room shifted. Four people watching her. Waiting. “Plan,” Bisi said. “We leave,” Zara said. “Now. Before shift change at six. Before Martha’s leave becomes a termination and someone checks this room.” “Where,” Bastian said. Not a questio

The on-call room door clicked shut at 5:23 AM. James locked it. 0451. Again. The sound was the only normal thing left. Daniel wasn’t with them. Booked. Processing. Ankle monitor by noon, Harris said. That made four people in a room built for four. Zara took her shoe off. The gauze was soaked through. Not blood. Just water and sweat. She peeled it back. The blister was flat now. Angry. Red. Healing. Pain was data. Data said she could walk another ten blocks. Bisi dropped onto her bed. Burner on her stomach. Screen up. TMZ refresh. Channel 7 refresh. Twitter refresh. Her thumb moved like a metronome. “Nothing yet,” Bisi said. “Walter’s booking isn’t public. Harris is sitting on it.” “Good,” Zara said. “Gives us head start.” Bastian stood by the window. Same spot as before. Watching the glass. Not the city. The reflection. Zara. Always Zara. “You should sleep,” he said. Not to her. To all of them. “You first,” James said. He sat on the floor by the door. Back to it. Lap

The bus smelled like disinfectant and old coffee. Same as the on-call room. Different cage. Zara sat by the window. Bastian beside her. Not touching. Bisi across the aisle. Burner in her lap, screen up. Views climbing. 1,402. 1,889. 2,311. No one on the bus looked at them. Not directly. But the driver watched in the mirror. The woman with groceries watched the floor. The kid with headphones watched the window. Everyone watched. Vivienne’s photo was already out there. Someone had to post it. By now it was on Twitter. By now Richard had it. Zara’s phone buzzed. Not the burner. James’s burner. He left it with Bisi. Bisi read it. “James. He’s in Des Moines. Cousin says yes. One week. Garage apartment. Above the shop. No questions.” “When,” Zara said. “Says he can be back by nine,” Bisi said. “He’s driving straight through. Wants us at the Mercy north lot. He’ll swing by. No stopping.” “That’s four hours,” Bastian said. “We can’t stay on this bus four hours.” “We won’t,”