The Billionaire's Forsaken Wife

Chapter 19

ROOSEVELT’S POV

The night air was freezing, but I didn't feel the cold, I only felt the heavy, crushing pain in my chest.

I walked quickly down the dark street, every step away from the mansion felt like a knife cutting into my heart.

I stopped for a moment and looked back at the gates of the King estate. A hot tear slid down my cheek.

I loved him. God, I loved Zyran so much that it physically hurt to breathe. I loved the man who used to smile at me across the dinner table. I loved the man who bought our first cozy beach cabin. I loved how his large hands felt when he held me in his sleep. My heart screamed at me to turn around, to run back into his arms, to forgive him for the divorce papers and the cruel lies.

But I placed my shaking hand over my flat stomach.

I cannot stay, I told myself, crying silently in the dark. If I stay, his obsession will destroy me. And he will destroy you, little one.

I had to choose my baby over the love of my life.

I wiped my eyes and forced my legs to keep moving. I reached the old tree on Elm Street.

Exactly four minutes later, a black car glided silently to the curb, the back door opened.

Maverick Sterling stepped out, wearing a dark overcoat over his suit. He looked incredibly dangerous, but his eyes were soft and calm when he looked at me.

He didn't ask why I was crying or why I was standing on a dark street with a bruised cheek and a torn dress, He just saw a woman who needed help.

He held out his hand.

"Get in, Roosevelt," Maverick said gently.

I took his hand, I climbed into the back seat, and he slid in right next to me. The driver immediately sped away from the curb.

The inside of the car was warm and smelled like leather and mint. I sat in the corner, hugging my purse to my chest. I was shaking uncontrollably.

Maverick reached over and pulled a blanket from the seat. He carefully draped it over my trembling shoulders. His fingers brushed against my arm, and I saw a brief flash of deep affection in his eyes. He quickly looked away, keeping a respectful distance.

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling the blanket tighter.

"You don't have to thank me," Maverick said. His voice was smooth and steady. He looked at the dark red handprint on my cheek, and his jaw tightened. But he didn’t push, he didn’t demand answers. "Where do you need to go?"

"The international airport," I said, my voice cracking. "I need to get on a plane to Milan. Tonight."

Maverick frowned slightly. He pulled a tablet from the seat pocket and tapped the screen.

"Commercial flights are a bad idea," Maverick said, looking at me. "I don't know what happened in your house tonight. I don’t know why you are running, but I know Zyran King. If he wakes up and finds you gone, the first thing he will do is freeze your passport and lock down the commercial airports. His men will be waiting at the gates before you even print your ticket."

Panic seized my throat. "But I have to leave! If he finds me, he will lock me up. He will never let me go."

Maverick saw the way I reacted, he didn't bother hesitating.

"Tell the pilot to prep the jet," Maverick ordered his driver through the intercom. "We are going to the private airstrip."

I stared at him in shock. "Your private jet? Maverick, you can't do that. If Zyran finds out you helped me escape the country, he will declare war on your company."

"Let him try," Maverick said calmly. He turned to look at me. The streetlights flashed across his handsome face, highlighting the quiet admiration in his eyes. "I told you I would help you. I don’t care about his money or his threats, I just want you to be safe."

A fresh tear fell from my eye. A complete stranger was risking his empire for me, while my own husband was willing to lock me up.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked softly.

Maverick looked down at his hands. "Because no woman should ever look as terrified as you did in that alley. You deserve better."

I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over me. For the first time in weeks, I felt a tiny spark of hope, I was going to Milan, I was going to be free.

The car drove fast through the quiet city streets, heading toward the private airstrip on the outskirts of town.

But suddenly, the driver slammed hard on the brakes.

The tires screeched loudly against the road. I jerked forward, dropping my purse on the floor. Maverick quickly threw his arm across my chest to stop me from hitting the front seat.

"What is going on?" Maverick barked at the driver.

"Sir," the driver said, his voice shaking with fear. "Look ahead."

I looked through the front windshield, my blood turned to ice.

We were on a narrow bridge leading out of the city, but the end of the bridge was completely blocked.

Five black SUVs were parked sideways across the road, cutting off our only escape route. Dozens of men in dark suits were standing in front of the cars.

And standing right in the center of the blockade, illuminated by the bright headlights of our car, was Zyran.

He looked like a demon walking out of hell. His white shirt was still stained with blood, his hair was messy, and he was holding a gun in his right hand.

Suddenly, Maverick’s car phone began to ring loudly through the speakers.

Maverick narrowed his eyes and pressed the answer button.

Zyran’s deep, terrifying voice filled the car.

"Unlock the doors, Sterling," Zyran commanded. His voice was deadly calm, "And hand over my wife, or I will shoot you right here and now."