The Runaway Heiress

A New Identity

The street extended perpetually before them, the gleam of city lights blurring into the distance as Naomi's SUV sped down the thruway. Brielle kept her look locked as an afterthought reflect, half-hoping to see her dad's men in pursuit.

In any case, there was nothing.

Not yet.

Naomi fixed her hold on the directing wheel. "I actually can't really accept that you truly made it happen."

Brielle breathed out shakily, moving in her seat. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, supplanted by the sting of injuries framing along her arms and legs. "Neither can I."

Naomi took a look at her. "You're not kidding?"

Brielle constrained a gesture, however the truth of what she'd done was soaking in. She had quite recently faked her own passing. She had quite recently deserted all that she'd at any point known — her dad's name, her abundance, her past.

Moving ahead was the only real option.

She squeezed her palm against her ribs, flinching somewhat. "Did you bring everything?"

Naomi gestured and went after a gym bag on the secondary lounge, throwing it onto Brielle's lap. "Identifications, cash, IDs. All that you'll require."

Brielle unfastened the sack, her heart beating. Inside were piles of fresh hundred-dollar notes, enough to keep her concealed for quite a long time. Another driver's permit and visa sat on top. She got the ID and gazed at the name.

Ella James.

Her new personality.

Brielle gulped hard. The name felt unfamiliar on her tongue, yet it needed to turn into her world. The best way to endure was to eradicate who she had been.

Naomi cast her one more stressed look. "You certain?"

Brielle met her look, assurance solidifying her highlights. "I must choose between limited options."

She didn't say it out loud, yet the two of them knew reality — assuming her dad or Luca Moretti saw as her, she wouldn't simply be hauled back. She'd be rebuffed for attempting to get away.

The heaviness of that reality pushed down on her like a bad habit.

Naomi murmured and gestured. "Alright. We stay on track."

Brielle gestured. They had delineated everything about her vanishing. Naomi would drive her to a little air terminal where a confidential pilot — paid in real money and no inquiries posed — would fly her to a seaside town a long way from New York. From that point, Brielle — presently Ella — would begin once again.

An existence without protectors, without sumptuous penthouses, without her dad's name safeguarding or controlling her.

She shut her eyes, attempting to envision it.

Opportunity.

In any case, where it counts, she realized it wouldn't be just basic.

She had consumed her whole time on earth in an enclosure, and presently she was venturing into the unexplored world.

Also, in the shadows, somebody was at that point searching for her.

---

After six hours - Meridian Sound

Brielle — no, Ella — ventured off the little, confidential plane, her boots sinking into the sodden earth of the airstrip. The pungent aroma of the sea filled her lungs, and the far off sound of waves running into the shore murmured behind the scenes.

The town of Meridian Narrows was a world away from the transcending high rises and cold marble lobbies of her dad's bequest.

What's more, that was precisely why she had picked it.

She fixed her grasp on her pack and began strolling toward the fundamental street, where an old pickup truck paused. The driver, a more established man named Hank, was one of Naomi's contacts. He had been paid liberally to get her and drop her off at a rental house on the edges of town.

She moved into the front seat without a word.

Hank gave her a sluggish, surveying look. "You're the city young lady, huh?"

Ella — Brielle — constrained a little grin. "Not any longer."

He laughed as he turned over the motor. "Indeed, you sure don't seem as though you have a place here. Be that as it may, sit back and relax, darling. Meridian Straight's a decent spot to vanish."

She trusted he was correct.

As the truck thundered toward town, she gazed through the window, watching the scene change. The shore extended interminably, the sea dull and unending underneath the twilight. The roads hushed up, the sort of town where everybody knew one another.

She had never resided in a spot like this.

When they contacted her house, fatigue weighed vigorously on her. Hank pulled up to the little house settled behind transcending trees, its wooden patio marginally worn however inviting.

"This is all there is to it," he said. "Protected, calm. Nobody will seek clarification on pressing issues."

She gestured, holding the entryway handle. "Much obliged to you."

He watched her briefly prior to offering his appreciation. "Best of luck, Ella."

Ella.

She was Ella now.

Escaping the truck, she took in significantly and progressed toward the lodge. Opening the entrance, she wandered inside, flicking on the light.

The spot was little — nothing similar to the extravagance she had been brought up in. Yet, it was warm, safe, and in particular… hers.

She dumped her pack and let out a sluggish breath.

There was no such thing as without precedent for her life, Brielle Davenport.

Ella James did.

What's more, nobody might at any point view as her.

However, she had no clue about that somebody previously had.