Billionaire's Mistake

The escape

CHAPTER THREE

The escape

The quiet in the room made every little sound echo. It was five in the morning, my plan is to leave before anyone noticed. At least my stuffs was packed the previous night. I slept in one of the rooms downstairs. I avoided looking around too much. This place wasn’t mine anymore.

I slipped on a long black hoodie and big sunglasses. My hair itched a bit under the hood, but it’d have to do. I even dug out sneakers—something I hadn’t worn in years. The Maya Herbert everyone knew wouldn’t be caught dead outside without designer heels. That was half the trouble.

No one saw the real me. They only knew Mrs. Herbert—the one always glued to Jeremy’s side at boardrooms, galas, investor pitches. Folks called me “the girl with the perfect PR voice,” “the quiet force behind J&O Corporation,” “the brains behind the billion-dollar empire.” Whenever I walked in, people sat up taller, talked different. They knew I had Jeremy’s ear.

But now? No name. No voice. No empire.

And I wasn’t letting anyone catch me like this—not even the driver.

I crept toward the garage exit, my stomach knotting up. Hood pulled low, head down. Cameras dotted the Herbert estate, but I’d timed it right. Security thinned out on Thursdays, shifts switching late afternoon. This was my shot.

Outside, a black sedan waited across the street, past the neat hedges. A hired cab—nothing like the fancy cars Jeremy always arranged. This one was mine, booked under a fake name.

I slid into the backseat fast, yanking the door closed. The driver gave me a quick, curious look in the mirror before pulling off.

Only after we passed the estate gates did I let out a breath.

My phone buzzed. A text from Annie.

**ANNIE:** Did you make it out?

**ME:** Yeah. In the cab. Heading to LAX. Terminal 3. Flight to Paris.

Her reply popped up quick.

**ANNIE:** I’m already here. Been pacing an hour. You’re safe now.

I pressed the phone to my chest for a sec. Annie was the only one I trusted here. We’d met in college, back when I was just Maya—clumsy, book-smart, always late on trends but ahead on business ideas. She’d stuck by me through it all, even when Jeremy cut me off from everyone. Even when Uriel moved in.

I leaned my head against the window, watching the city blur by. Los Angeles looked strange when you weren’t riding like royalty. Sunlight stretched shadows over buildings and shop signs. It all felt far off, like I was peeking into someone else’s life.

Jeremy would notice I was gone soon. If he hadn’t already. I knew his habits better than he did—sleeping off a drunk night, waking around noon, snapping at the staff, then realizing I’d vanished. He wouldn’t freak out right away. Might figure I’d gone for a walk. But once he checked my closet… once his calls hit voicemail…

I didn’t want to think about it.

The cab slowed at a red light downtown. People strolled by—suits, iced coffees, gym bags. I wondered what they’d say if they knew “Mrs. Herbert” sat in this plain cab, divorce papers signed, walking away from a billionaire, fleeing the only life she’d known.

Then I saw him.

At 7th and Spring, a guy stood with his back to the traffic. Tall, grey jacket, jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets. His head tilted like he was listening to something private. Nothing rang a bell—until he turned slightly toward the cab.

Our eyes locked.

My breath hitched. His gaze wasn’t cold, but sharp—too steady, too aware. Like he’d been waiting.

I sat up, but the light changed, and the cab rolled forward. I twisted to look back. He was gone.

The driver glanced my way. “You okay back there?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, tugging the hood tighter. “Just tired.”

He nodded and kept quiet.

But it stuck with me.

That guy. Those eyes. The way he looked—it wasn’t random. It felt like he knew me. Like he’d been waiting.

Was someone tailing me?

I checked my phone. No new texts. No calls. I took a shaky breath. Maybe I was just jumpy. This day—heck, these weeks—had been a lot.

The cab pulled into LAX’s departure lane, and there was Annie. Leaning on a pillar, scanning cars, her curls bouncing as she shifted. She spotted me and rushed over, flinging the door open.

“You’re here,” she whispered, pulling me into a hug. “You’re really here.”

I nodded, choking back a lump. “Had to go. Couldn’t stay another night.”

“You did right,” she said, grabbing my bag. “Let’s get you checked in.”

But as I turned toward the terminal, something caught my eye.

Across the parking lot, by the arrivals sidewalk, a grey jacket slipped behind a pillar. My chest tightened. He hadn’t disappeared.

He’d followed me.