THE BILLIONAIRE WHO BEGGED FOR HIS RUNAWAY WIFE

POV: Clara Bennett

My hands shake as I zip the second suitcase, and the small bathroom trash can holds the plastic stick that changes everything, because I am carrying Damian's child while he plans to throw me out for Vivian. For a second, I hold my breath and touch my stomach, and I actually think about waking him up to tell him the news, but then his cold laughter echoes in my head. He said I was just a way to secure the merger, so I drop my hand and pull my phone from my pocket to call my friend Marcus, who owes me a favor from architecture school.

"Clara?" Marcus answers on the third ring, his voice raspy with sleep. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Marcus, I need your help," I whisper, walking quietly into the dark hallway so I do not wake Damian. "I need you to book a private flight out of the city for me right now, and I need a car waiting outside the building in twenty minutes."

"A flight?" Marcus asks, waking up fully as he hears the panic in my voice. "Clara, what happened? Are you and Damian fighting again?"

"Just do it, Marcus," I say, my voice breaking slightly before I swallow the lump in my throat. "Do not ask questions, just send the car, and I will wire the money to your account before the plane takes off."

"Alright, alright, I am calling a contact now," Marcus says. "Pack light, and meet me at the hangar by three in the morning."

I hang up the phone and walk back into the bedroom, where Damian is sleeping soundly on the side of the bed, completely unaware that his life is about to change. I pull my diamond wedding ring off my finger, and I set it right in the center of the nightstand next to his watch, because I will not keep a single thing that belongs to him. I send a quick email to my uncle at the Bennett family company to resign from my advisory board position, and I transfer my personal savings into a separate account that Damian cannot touch.

When I walk out of the penthouse for the last time, the elevator ride feels too long, and I step out into the lobby where the night guard nods at me politely.

"Going out so late, Mrs. Sterling?" the guard asks, looking up from his desk.

"Just a family emergency, Tom," I say, offering a tired smile before walking out the glass doors into the cool night air.

Marcus's car is waiting at the curb with the engine running, and I slide into the back seat, telling the driver to take us straight to the airfield. By the time the sun starts to peek over the horizon, the plane is already high in the sky, and I look out the window at New York shrinking below me. I keep one hand resting protectively over my stomach, and I tell myself that I made the right choice, because my child will never grow up watching a mother beg for attention from a man who does not care.

Three months pass in a blur of morning sickness and quiet apartments in a city four hours away, and I spend my days reviewing blueprints on my laptop while building a new architectural firm from scratch. My stomach is starting to show a small bump under my oversized shirts, and my phone buzzes constantly with unknown numbers that I simply ignore because I know they are from Damian. Today is my monthly checkup, and I sit on the paper-covered table in the clinic while the nurse applies cold gel to my stomach.

"Everything looks good so far, Clara," Dr. Evans says, moving the small monitor around while the room fills with a fast, rhythmic thumping sound.

"Is the baby healthy?" I ask, holding my breath as I stare at the grainy black and white screen.

"The baby is very healthy," Dr. Evans smiles, pointing at the monitor. "Look right here, you have got a strong heartbeat, and everything is developing right on schedule."

I look at the screen, and for the first time since I walked out of Damian's penthouse, a genuine smile spreads across my face, because this little life is mine and no one can take it away from me.