The Billionaire's Substitute: Her Final Escape

Nolan stood in the center of the massive, sunlit CEO office at Walton Group. He carefully placed the ring of keys and the titanium black card onto Brogan's wide mahogany desk. Brogan was looking down, signing a stack of acquisition papers. The moment he saw the black card in his peripheral vision, his hand stopped. The nib of his pen bled a dark ink stain into the paper. "She tore up the check and refused the trust fund," Nolan reported. He tried to keep his voice neutral, but the disbelief bled through. Brogan's head snapped up. His eyes were dark and dangerous. "It's a cheap trick. She thinks playing hard to get will make me increase the payout," Brogan sneered. He reached out and slammed his hand down on the intercom button. "Finance. Cancel all authorizations attached to my secondary Centurion card. Immediately," Brogan ordered. He released the button, the loud click echoing in the silent office. Brogan aggressively loosened his silk tie, his jaw clenching. "Don't waste any more time on that greedy woman," Brogan snapped at Nolan. Nolan opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He nodded and backed out of the office, leaving Brogan alone to stare at the rejected black card on his desk. Across the city, outside a crumbling apartment building in Brooklyn, Elease was dragging her suitcase up three flights of narrow, unlit stairs. She knocked on the peeling wooden door. It swung open almost instantly. Brianna, wearing an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, pulled Elease into a bone-crushing hug. Brianna pulled back and took one look at Elease's pale face and the soaked hem of her coat. She immediately grabbed Elease's wrist and yanked her into the warm, cramped apartment. Elease forced a wide, careless smile onto her face. "I got sick of being a kept woman. I dumped that Wall Street bastard," Elease lied smoothly. Brianna cursed Brogan out, using every foul word in her vocabulary. She turned around and marched into the tiny kitchen to heat up some milk. Because Brianna's back was turned, she didn't see Elease's face contort in agony as she pressed her hand hard against her chest. Elease quickly unzipped her handbag, shoved the plastic pill bottle deep into the bottom compartment, and zipped it shut. She locked her lethal secret away. Brianna walked back into the living room holding a steaming mug. She pointed at the lumpy, faded fabric sofa against the wall. "It's all yours, babe," Brianna announced generously. Elease took the mug. The heat from the ceramic seeped into her freezing palms. Her eyes burned, and the edges of her vision blurred with unshed tears. To change the subject, Brianna sat cross-legged on the floor and excitedly started talking about work. "Walton Group is going crazy tomorrow. We're getting a new CEO dropped in from the board. Supposedly, she's got massive backing," Brianna gossiped. Elease didn't care about corporate politics. All she cared about was going into the office tomorrow, handing in her resignation, and using her accumulated Paid Time Off (PTO) to fund her last few months on earth. Hours later, the apartment was pitch black. Brianna was snoring softly in the bedroom. Elease lay curled in a tight fetal position on the narrow sofa. The wail of police sirens echoed down the Brooklyn streets outside. Cold air leaked through the cracks in the cheap window frame. The chill triggered another bout of irregular heartbeats. A dull, grinding pain started in her chest and radiated down her left arm. She didn't dare turn on the lamp to find her pills. She couldn't risk waking Brianna up. Elease grabbed the decorative throw pillow and bit down hard into the fabric, muffling her own agonizing gasps as the pain tore through her body. Through the haze of torture, Brogan's cold, disgusted eyes flashed in her mind. The injustice and the heartbreak acted like acid, burning through her nervous system. She survived the night. When the sun came up, Elease dragged her exhausted, trembling body into the cramped bathroom. She gripped the edges of the sink and stared at the mirror. Her face looked like a corpse. Her skin was gray, her eyes sunken. She turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water onto her face, slapping her cheeks hard to force the blood to circulate. Elease unzipped her makeup bag. She squeezed out a massive amount of thick concealer and liquid foundation. She layered it on, blending it aggressively until the sickly pallor was completely erased. She uncapped her brightest, most aggressive red lipstick and painted her lips. She looked like a soldier putting on war paint. She changed into a sharp, tailored pencil skirt and silk blouse. She carefully folded her resignation letter and slid it into her leather tote bag. Brianna walked out of the bedroom, yawning. She took one look at Elease and let out a loud, appreciative whistle. "Look at you! Ready to kill," Brianna cheered. Elease smiled back. She linked her arm through Brianna's, and the two of them walked out of the apartment, heading toward the subway. The morning rush hour train was a nightmare. Elease was shoved against the sliding doors by the crush of bodies. The physical pressure against her chest made it incredibly difficult to breathe. Sweat beaded on her forehead. The train finally screeched to a halt in the Financial District. Elease stepped off the platform. She walked up to the street level and tilted her head back, looking up at the towering glass facade of the Walton Group building. It was time to say goodbye.