THE BILLIONAIRE’S POSSESSION

Chapter 12: Running

We drove for six hours straight.

Maya had cash about $3,000 she'd withdrawn from her own account before picking me up. She drove north, away from Boston, away from Marcus, toward Vermont where she had a cousin who lived in a small mountain town. She didn't tell me where we were going until we were already hours away.

"My cousin Emma runs a bed-and-breakfast in a tiny town called Millbrook," Maya explained, her eyes on the road. "Population about 2,000. Nobody knows you there. Nobody knows Marcus. You can hide there, have the baby, figure out your next steps."

"He'll find me," I said, my hands wrapped protectively around my belly. "He has money. He has resources. He'll hire investigators. He'll—"

"He won't know where you are," Maya said firmly. "I didn't tell anyone where I was taking you. I paid cash for gas. I'm not using my phone for GPS. As far as Marcus knows, you just disappeared."

I wanted to believe her. But I knew Marcus. I knew his obsession. I knew he wouldn't stop looking for me. Looking for our baby.

Every time my phone buzzed, which was constantly I jumped. But Maya had made me leave my phone in Boston. The one Marcus had given me, the one he'd monitored, was still in the penthouse. He'd be trying to track it, finding me right where he'd left me.

He wouldn't understand that I was gone until he came home and found the note.

By then, I'd be hours away.

We stopped only for gas and bathroom breaks. I couldn't eat, my stomach was twisted with anxiety and fear and the weight of what I was doing. I was running from the father of my child. I was taking his child and disappearing. He would rage. He would rage hard.

But I had to protect my baby. I had to protect her from a man whose love was suffocation. Whose devotion was imprisonment. Whose obsession was destroying me piece by piece.

As we got closer to Vermont, the landscape changed. Mountains rose up around us. Trees grew thicker. The world became smaller, quieter, safer.

"Emma knows someone who can help you get a new identity," Maya said quietly. "Social security number, driver's license, everything. It's not technically legal, but it's safe. Nobody will be able to trace you."

What name should I use?" I asked.

"What do you want to be called?" Maya asked.

I thought about it. I'd spent my entire life as Lily Morrison the invisible lawyer, the ambitious girl who wasn't good enough, the woman who let a man destroy her. I wanted to be someone else. Someone strong. Someone new.

"Sophie," I said. "Sophie... Bennett."

Sophie Bennett. Someone who'd never existed before. Someone with no history, no baggage, no obsessed billionaire trying to own her.

We arrived in Millbrook as the sun was setting.

The town was exactly what I needed. Quite, small, filled with old buildings and tree-lined streets. Nobody here knew who Lily Morrison was. Nobody here knew about Marcus Wellington. Nobody here cared about anything except their own small lives in their small town.

Emma was waiting for us at the bed-and-breakfast. She was warm and kind and didn't ask too many questions. Maya had clearly told her the basics, pregnant woman running from a bad relationship, needs help, needs discretion.

"You can stay here as long as you need," Emma said, showing me to a small room on the second floor. "I'll put you on payroll as a housekeeper once you're able. The pay isn't much, but it'll give you independence."

"Thank you," I whispered, and burst into tears.

That night, lying in a bed that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't his, in a town where nobody knew my real name, I let myself breathe for the first time in months.

I was free.

But my freedom came with a cost: I would never see Marcus again. I would raise my baby alone. I would build a life pretending to be someone I wasn't. I would spend the rest of my life running, terrified that one day, he'd find me.

Three weeks later, my labor started.

It was sudden and intense, contractions that took my breath away. Emma drove me to the small hospital in the next town over. Maya had flown up to be with me, holding my hand through the pain.

"You're doing amazing," Maya kept saying. "You're so strong. You're almost there."

And then, at 3:47 a.m. on a cold November morning, Luna was born.

She was perfect. Eight pounds, two ounces, with a head full of dark hair and her father's obsidian eyes. When I held her for the first time, I made a silent promise: I would never let anyone hurt her. I would never let anyone possess her. I would never let her think that obsession was love.

She was my daughter. My Luna. My light in the darkness.

And I would protect her with everything I had.