The Billionaire’s Rejected Mate

Chapter 2: The Escape

The motel smelled like bleach and old dreams.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my phone off.

The red light on the charger was the only thing blinking in the dark.

Two months pregnant.

Rejected.

Broke.

God abeg.

The full moon was still up outside the cracked window. Mocking me.

Every wolf for miles could probably feel that my bond was broken. They’d know I was bleeding.

Damian’s pack would be looking for me by morning.

"Selene Carter," I whispered to myself. "Get up."

My gown was still on. Wrinkled and stained. The silver mark on my collarbone was gone.

Just pale skin now. Like I never mattered.

I ripped the gown off and threw it in the trash.

I wasn’t her anymore.

In my bag I had 12,400 naira. That was everything.

My tokunbo Corolla was parked outside with almost no fuel.

I couldn’t go back to Lagos.

I couldn’t go to Mira. Damian would check her first.

So I ran.

I drove until the sun came up. Past Ibadan. Past Oyo.

I kept the radio off. No news. No music.

Just me and the baby I wasn’t supposed to have.

By noon my phone buzzed even though it was off.

I almost threw it out the window.

Wolf phones do that when an alpha is looking. He was calling me through the bond.

Even broken, some part of him could still feel me.

I pulled over at a small buka by the road. The woman there looked at me twice.

"Food, my daughter?"

"Rice and stew," I said. My voice was hoarse. "And water."

I ate with my head down.

I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. The baby was already making me hungry.

The woman put extra meat on my plate. "You look tired."

"I’m fine," I lied.

When I went to pay, my hands were shaking.

12,400 to 11,900.

At this rate I’d be out of money in 3 days.

That night I slept in the back seat of my car.

Parked behind a church in Ilorin.

I dreamed of Damian.

Not the cold man from the gala.

The Damian from 3 years ago. The one who gave me his jacket in the rain.

The one who said "I’ll burn the world for you, little one."

I woke up crying.

Day 3.

I was in a small town near Jebba. Nobody knew me here.

I got a job at a roadside restaurant washing plates. 2,000 naira a day. Cash.

No ID. No questions.

The madam, Mama T, took one look at me and said "You’re running from something."

I just nodded.

She gave me a room behind the restaurant. One mattress on the floor. Fan that barely worked.

It was the best thing I’d had in weeks.

I started wearing loose clothes.

Started tying my hair up.

Started answering to "Sade" instead of Selene.

Selene Carter died at that gala.

Week 2.

The nausea hit me like a truck.

Morning sickness. I was throwing up behind the restaurant before my shift.

Mama T found me.

She didn’t ask questions. She just gave me ginger tea and said "Eat small small."

That night I lay on the mattress with my hand on my stomach.

"Hey baby," I whispered. "It’s just you and me, okay?"

I felt stupid talking to a bump that wasn’t there yet.

But I did it anyway.

Week 4.

My phone rang.

It was a new number. Not Damian.

Mira.

"Sel, where are you?" she cried. "The whole pack is looking for you. Damian tore the city apart. He’s offering 50 million naira for information."

I closed my eyes. "Don’t tell him."

"He thinks you’re dead, Sel. There was an accident. Your car—"

"My car is fine," I cut her off. "Mira, please. If you love me, don’t tell him."

A long pause.

"...He deserves to know about the baby."

My blood went cold. "If you tell him, I’ll never speak to you again."

I hung up.

Blocked her too.

I was alone now. Really alone.

Month 3.

I started showing. Just a little.

I wore big wrappers and tied them tight.

Mama T pretended not to notice.

The other girls at the restaurant whispered. "Who’s the father?"

"No one," I said. And that was the truth.

Because the father rejected me.

One night I was closing up when a black SUV pulled into the parking lot.

My heart stopped.

Black. Tinted windows. Just like his.

I ducked behind the counter. Held my breath.

Two men in suits got out. Asked Mama T if she’d seen a girl.

"Many girls pass here," she said. "I don’t know."

They left.

I threw up that night. Not from pregnancy. From fear.

He was looking.

Month 5.

I could feel the baby kick now.

Little flutters. Like butterfly wings.

At night I’d talk to it. Tell it stories. Tell it about the ocean I’d never seen.

Tell it that its daddy was a billionaire who didn’t want us.

I started saving money. 500 naira at a time.

In a jar under the mattress.

For the baby. For hospital. For diapers.

I named it in my head.

If it was a girl: Hope.

If it was a boy: David. After my dad who left when I was 5.

Month 6.

The rumors started.

"Vex Corp CEO is looking for his missing mate."

"50 million naira reward."

"She’s pregnant with his heir."

Someone leaked it.

My picture was on the news.

Old picture. From before.

Me in my buka uniform. Smiling.

The caption: `MISSING: Selene Carter. Last seen with Alpha Damian Vex.`

I smashed the TV with a plate.

That night I packed one bag.

Diapers. Baby clothes from the market. The jar of money.

5 months pregnant and running again.

Because if Damian found me now, he wouldn’t just reject me.

He’d take the baby.

I left Jebba at 2am.

No plan. No destination.

Just away.

As I drove, I put my hand on my stomach.

The baby kicked back. Hard.

"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. We’ll be okay."

The road was dark.

The moon was full.

And somewhere in Lagos, Damian Vex was still looking for me.

But he’d never find us.

Not until I was ready.