Then he gave me a tired look.
“But I know people who can.”
We were moved into a private room beneath the terminal.
Beige walls.
Leather chairs.
No windows.
A coffee machine humming in the corner.
Lily began fussing.
She was tired.
Confused.
Probably feeling every ounce of panic I was trying to hide.
Noah crouched several feet away.
He held up the stuffed rabbit he had used on the plane.
“May I?”
I nodded.
He made the rabbit sneeze.
Lily stared.
He did it again.
Louder.
She giggled.
That tiny sound almost broke me.
My phone rang.
Aunt Claire.
“Claire?”
“Emily?”
Her voice sounded strained.
“Where are you?”
“At the airport. Why?”
Silence.
Then:
“Don’t come to my apartment.”
My blood went cold.
“What happened?”
“A man came here.”
She lowered her voice.
“Tall. Dark hair. Expensive coat. He said he represented Ryan.”
My hands tightened.
“He knew your flight number. Lily’s name. Everything.”
Claire swallowed.
“He told me I could get in trouble if I helped you hide.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I swear.”
She sounded close to tears.
“But there’s a black car parked across the street now.”
Ryan hadn’t even bothered coming himself.
Of course he hadn’t.
Ryan liked other people to do the ugly work.
“Lock your door,” I told her. “Don’t answer for anyone.”
“I’m sorry, Emily.”
“It’s okay.”
It wasn’t.
I ended the call before hearing Claire cry destroyed what little composure I had left.
I looked at Noah.
“I have nowhere to go.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I know how this looks. Abandoned mother rescued by billionaire stranger. I don’t want to become another rumor people tell about you.”
His expression tightened.
“They already tell stories about me.”
He gave the faintest shrug.
“Maybe for once they can tell one that’s true.”
Mara cleared her throat.
“We have a secure property twenty minutes away.”
“No mansion,” I said immediately.
Noah almost smiled.
“No mansion.”
He counted off the details.
“Hotel suite. Company account. Separate bedrooms. Hallway security. Your own key. Your own phone.”
Then:
“And a lawyer before dinner.”
“A lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t afford one.”
“I didn’t ask whether you could.”
That annoyed me.
It also made me want to cry from relief.
On the drive into Chicago, rain streaked across the tinted windows.
Lily slept in the car seat.
Noah sat opposite me.
Quiet.
His phone rested loosely in one hand.
On the plane he had looked exhausted.
Now he looked haunted.
“Why were people taking pictures of you?” I asked.
He looked toward the window.
For several seconds, I thought he would ignore the question.
Then he answered.
“My wife died three years ago.”
I stopped breathing.
“I’m sorry.”
“Her name was Caroline.”
His mouth tightened into something that almost became a smile.
“She hated rooms full of rich people.”
Then the smile disappeared.
“The tabloids decided grief wasn’t interesting unless they made it ugly.”
He looked down.
“They blamed me. Then said I covered things up. Then decided I had moved on too quickly because someone hugged me at a charity event.”
“That’s horrible.”
“That’s publicity.”
There was no anger in his voice.
Only exhaustion.
“This week is the anniversary. Every year, the cameras come back.”
I remembered the strange request he made on the plane.
Pretend you’re asleep on my shoulder.
It hadn’t been flirtation.
He had wanted a few minutes where nobody could invent another story about him.
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s why I trusted you.”
The words stayed between us.
At the hotel, we entered through a private entrance and took a service elevator upstairs.
The suite was enormous.
A crib was already being assembled.
Diapers sat near the bathroom.
Baby food had been stocked.
A soft yellow blanket rested on the couch.
I stared around the room.
“Noah.”
He remained near the entrance.
“Too much?”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
Mara came in carrying a laptop.
“We found your suitcase.”
Hope surged through me.
“Where?”
“Abandoned in a restroom near Terminal Three.”
“And my folder?”
Mara said nothing.
That was answer enough.
I sat heavily on the sofa.
Noah’s phone rang.
He answered.
“Tell me.”
I watched his face change.
Then his phone chimed.
He read whatever had been sent.
Finally, he handed the screen to me.
An emergency petition had been filed in Travis County family court that morning.
Ryan Collins versus Emily Collins.
The words blurred.
Unstable.
Erratic.
Flight risk.
Infant removed from the state without paternal permission.
Mother believed to be suffering severe emotional distress.
Attached was a medical statement from a physician I had never met.
It claimed I had missed postpartum appointments and shown signs of paranoia.
My fingers went numb.
“This is fake.”
Noah crouched in front of me.
“Emily.”
“This is fake.”
My voice rose.
“I never met that doctor.”
Lily stirred.
I immediately lowered my voice.
Mara looked uncomfortable.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“There’s a sworn witness statement.”
“From who?”
Mara turned the screen.
Heather Lane.
Ryan’s new girlfriend.
The woman whose smiling pictures I had already seen online.
The woman wearing Ryan’s old college sweatshirt in the kitchen I had painted yellow.
“She doesn’t even know me.”
Noah’s voice was quiet.
“She knows enough to lie.”
Something changed inside me.
For weeks, I had been afraid.
Afraid of Ryan.
Afraid of being alone.
Afraid that every decision I made would somehow become proof that I was unstable.
But seeing Heather’s name changed the fear into something else.
Ryan wasn’t just leaving me.
He was trying to rewrite me.
“I want to fight.”
Noah looked at me.
“Then we fight.”
The lawyer arrived after sunset.
Vivian Hart.
Charcoal suit.
Silver-rimmed glasses.
A leather folder thick enough to stop a bullet.
She listened as I explained everything.
The locks.
The frozen account.
The stolen suitcase.
The fake medical letter.
Heather’s statement.
When I finished, Vivian removed her glasses.
“Your husband moved quickly.”
“Ex-husband.”
“Not legally yet.”
My stomach tightened.
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