Chapter15:Things Money Can’t Buy
876 Words
The private jet touched down just after noon.
Selene stared out the window, fingers clenched in her lap, bracing for impact that never came. No excitement. No smile. Just quiet exhale.
Austin watched her. “You okay?”
She nodded, then shook her head, then let out a small, tired laugh. “I don’t know… I missed you.”
He exhaled through his nose. “We’ll take that.”
No one knew where they were. Not Diana. Not his parents. Not even Adam. The location was quiet, carefully chosen—another state, another city, another breath for Selene without fear shadowing every step.
The car ride from the airport started silent. Unfamiliar streets rolled past. Selene watched people move freely—coffee cups in hand, phones to ears, normal lives.
“I used to think freedom was leaving the city,” she said suddenly. “Turns out it’s not being afraid someone will grab you from behind.” She chuckled, small and dry.
Austin’s jaw tightened. “You’re safe here.”
She turned to him. “For how long?”
He didn’t answer.
The apartment was discreet but expensive—floor-to-ceiling windows, neutral tones, security that blended into the walls. Selene stepped inside and froze.
“This is too much,” she said.
“It’s temporary.”
She crossed her arms, turning slowly. “This place has a wine cellar. How do you expect me to stay in something this big alone?”
He almost smiled. “Unfortunate, but you deserve comfort. No more hotels. This is safer.”
She scoffed softly. “Comfort doesn’t usually come with marble countertops.”
He let the corner of his mouth lift. “Try it.”
After settling her in, Austin checked locks, security panel, balcony doors—routine now. Selene watched him move like a man who’d learned protection wasn’t optional.
“I need to go back,” he said finally.
Her shoulders stiffened. “Back where?”
“To Sydney. To my parents. To Diana.” He paused. “To find what they’re hiding.”
Selene swallowed. “And if they find out what you’re doing?”
“They already suspect.” He met her eyes. “That’s why you can’t be near them.”
She nodded slowly. “I hate this.”
“So do I.”
Before leaving, he hesitated. “You need clothes.”
She blinked. “I have clothes.”
“You escaped a kidnapping with borrowed things,” he said. “You need options.”
She laughed dryly. “Is this the billionaire way of saying shopping?”
“Yes.”
An hour later, Selene stood in a high-end boutique—soft lighting, racks of clothes that looked too expensive to touch. The sales associate smiled like this was routine.
Selene leaned toward Austin and whispered, “If I breathe wrong in here, do they charge us?”
“No,” he chuckled. “But they might judge you silently.”
“Good. I thrive under judgment.”
She didn’t go wild. She chose carefully—simple dresses, comfortable shoes, a jacket that felt safe. Dinner dresses and boots. Nothing flashy.
At the register, she glanced at the total and shook her head. “I’m going to need emotional support for this receipt.”
“I’ll frame it,” Austin replied. “A reminder that money can be ridiculous.”
Outside, her smile faded.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Not for the clothes. For not turning this into a performance.”
He nodded. “You’re not an accessory.”
She looked at him, soft and pained. “Neither are you.”
Then she pulled him into a tight hug—hands stiff around his back, like she was afraid this was goodbye.
That night, after Austin left, Selene sat alone in the apartment, wrapped in the new jacket. She pressed her face into the fabric and let herself cry—not loud, not dramatic. Just enough to release what she’d held in.
Across the country, Austin walked back into the lion’s den.
Sydney felt sharper now. Like a place that smiled while hiding knives.
His parents’ house loomed grand and immaculate. He stepped inside to the familiar scent of wealth and control.
His mother looked up from the sitting room. “You’ve been busy.”
“So have you,” Austin replied.
His father entered, eyes assessing. “Wedding preparations are accelerating.”
“I noticed.”
“We thought you might,” his mother said smoothly. “Appearances matter.”
Austin sat down, face blank. “I want to review the company’s older records.”
Silence.
His father laughed softly. “What for?”
“Curiosity,” Austin said. “Isn’t that allowed?”
His mother’s smile thinned. “Not when it threatens stability.”
“And whose stability?” Austin asked quietly. “Yours? Or the people you destroyed to protect it?”
The room stilled.
“Careful,” his father warned. “You don’t know what you’re implying.”
“I know enough,” Austin said. “And I’m not stopping.”
Later, alone in his old bedroom, Austin sat on the bed’s edge, head in hands. Pieces were falling into place, but not fast enough.
- Writer
