<b>Chapter </b><b>126 </b>


    -CELINE’S POV


    The fluorescent light in the dingy motel room flickered like a dying heartbeat, casting erratic shadows across the water stained walls.


    I sat curled on the threadbare carpet, my knees drawn to my chest, watching the muted television screen where somete–night infomercial promised to change lives for three easy payments of $19.99.


    If only it were that simple.


    The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 3:47 AM in harsh red numbers.


    In just over three hours, <b>Caesar </b>and I would board the 7 AM bus that would take us even further from everything we’d ever known.


    Further from Hunter. Further from the life that had briefly felt like a fairy tale before crumbling into this nightmare.


    Caesar stirred on the narrow bed, his small fist clutching his beloved stuffed dinosaur….Rex, as he’d named it.


    Even in sleep, tear tracks stained his cherubic cheeks.


    He’d cried for hours at the bus station, then here in this godforsaken room, his little voice breaking <b>as </b>he kept asking when we were going home to see “Daddy Hunter.”


    How do you exin to a three–year–old that the man he’de to love as a father might never want to see him again?


    How do you tell him that his mother had been branded a gold–digger and paid to disappear like some <b>dirty </b>secret?


    My fingers traced the crumpled envelope hidden in my jacket pocket… the one containing more money than I had ever seen in my life.


    Eleanor Reid’s blood money. Her price for my silence, for my absence, for pretending Caesar didn’t exist.


    “He’ll be better off without you,” her cold voice echoed in my memory.


    “You’re nothing but a distraction from his real responsibilities, Take the money and <b>give </b>that boy <b>a </b>proper life somewhere else. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”


    rt? The message that hade through Hunter’swyer just hours before I packed our meager belongings.


    But the worst part?


    The formal, clinicalnguage that had shattered what remained of my heart:


    “Mr. Reid wishes to inform you that your employment is terminated effective immediately. He requests that you vacate the premises with your belongings and the child by dawn. Any attempt to contact him directly will result in legal action.”


    Legal action.


    As if I were some crazed stalker instead of the woman who had shared his bed, who’d watched his walls crumble in the darkness, who’d seen. himugh with genuine joy for the first time when Caesar called him “Daddy.”


    I had stood outside his bedroom <b>door </b>for what felt like hours, my hand raised to knock, desperate to hear his voice tell me it was all a


    That he hadn’t meant those cruel words he’d spoken after <b>Caroline’s </b>confession


    That he still wanted us<b>. </b>


    10:19 Wed<b>, </b>6 <b>Augi </b>


    But the silence had been deafening. No footsteps pacing the floor. No sound of his restless sleep.


    Just emptiness that confirmed what I had feared he was done with us,


    The tears came then, hot and bitter, sliding down my cheeks as I stared at my sleeping son. Caesar had been so excited yesterday chattering about the boat trip Hunter had promised him.


    About how he was going to bring Rex along and maybe invite ke and Caroline too. His innocent enthusiasm had been like a knife twisting in my chest.


    “Mama, when are we seeing Papa?” he’d asked as I had hurriedly packed our things. “He promised to show me the big boats in the ocean And Chef Marcus said he’d make my favorite cookies<b>!</b>”


    I’d led to him then


    Told him we were going on an adventure, that we’d see Papa soon. The words had tasted like ash on my tongue.


    Now, watching him sleep fitfully, I wondered if I’d made the right choice. Maybe I should have fought harder.


    Maybe I should have demanded to see Hunter face–to–face instead of running like a coward in the night.


    But what would have been the point? He’d already made his decision. The money in my pocket was proof enough of that.


    My phone<b>…</b>now destroyed and discarded in three different dumpsters across two states…had been myst connection to the life we’d briefly <b>shared</b><b>. </b>


    No way for Hunter to track us even if he wanted to. Which he probably didn’t.


    He was likely relieved we were gone.


    Free to marry his mother’s choice….some polished debutante like Mia ckwood who’d <b>never </b>embarrass the Reid name.


    Who <b>had </b><b>never </b>brought the scandal of an illegitimate child or the shame of loving someone beneath their station.


    The thought of Hunter moving on, forgetting us like we’d neverexisted, sent a fresh wave of agony through my chest. But maybe that was for


    the best.


    Caesar deserved better than a father who could discard him so <b>easily</b>. We both did.


    I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, trying to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the motel’s faulty heating.


    By this time tomorrow, we’d be in a new city, starting over again. I’d find work, rent a small apartment, maybe even pursue my art again with the money Eleanor had given me.


    The irony wasn’t lost on me…the woman who’d destroyed my life was also funding my escape from it.


    “Mama?”


    Caesar’s small voice made me look up. He was sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes, Rex clutched to his chest.


    Even in the dim light, I could see the confusion and sadness in his blue eyes….Hunter’s eyes.


    <b>“</b>What is it, baby?” I whispered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.


    “I had a bad dream,” he said, his lower lip trembling “Daddy Hupter was looking for us, but we weren’t there. He was sad and calling our names, but we couldn’t answer.”


    10:19 Wed d


    My heart clenched. Even in sleep, Caesar’s subconscious was processing our abandonment it was just a dream, sweetheart-


    “But what if it’s real? What if Daddy Hunteres home and we’re not there? What if he thinks we don’t love him anymore


    The Innocence in his voice nearly broke me,


    How could I exin that sometimes love wasn’t enough? That sometimes the people we love hurt <b>us </b>so deeply that staying bes impossible?


    “Daddy Hunter knows we love him,” I managed, though the words felt like files. “But sometimes… sometimes people have to go different


    ways.”


    “Like when Grandma and Grandpa didn’t want <b>us </b>anymore?”


    The casual way he referenced my parents‘ rejection cut <b>deep</b>. At three years old, Caesar had already experienced more abandonment than any child should.


    And now I was adding to that <b>pain </b>by taking him away from the only father <b>figure </b>he’d ever known


    “This is different,” I <b>said</b>, though I wasn’t sure it was.


    Caesar studied my face with those too–wise eyes. “Are <b>you </b>sad, Mama!”


    I forced <b>a </b>smile. “I’m okay, baby. We’re going to be okay.”


    But even <b>as </b>I said the words, I felt the familiar dizziness creeping in. The stress of the past few days,bined with barely eating and no sleep, was taking its toll.


    My head felt foggy, my limbs heavy.


    “Try to go back to sleep,” I told Caesar, tucking the thin motel nket around him. “We have a big <b>day </b>tomorrow


    Will th


    there be other kids where we’re going?”


    “I hope so.”


    “Will they like dinosaurs?”


    Despite everything, his question made me smile genuinely. “How could


    <i>they </i>not


    not? Rex is pretty amazing.”


    Caesar hugged his dinosaur tighter. “Maybe they’ll want to y boats with us. Even if Daddy Hunter can’te<b>.</b>”


    The casual eptance in his voice…the way he was already adapting to a life without Hunter….should have been reassuring


    Instead, it felt like another loss.


    I managed to get him settled again, but sleep eluded me. I found myself back on the floor, staring at the wall where someone had scratched “HOPE” into the paint.


    The word seemed to mock me.


    Hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford anymore..


    The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness. 4AM 5AM. 6AM.


    When the <b>rm </b>finally buzzed at 6:15, Caesar bounced up with the resilience only children possessed, <b>“</b>is it time for our adventure, Mama!


    <b>3/4 </b>


    10:19 <b>Wed</b><b>, </b><b>6 </b>Auge


    “Almost, sweetheart,


    I tried to stand, but the room tilted dangerously.


    My vision blurred, and I grabbed the edge of the dresser for support. The stress, theck of food, the emotional trauma…it was all catching up with me at the worst possible moment.


    “Mama? Are you okay?”


    I couldn’t worry him. Not now. We had fifteen minutes to catch our bus….our escape route to a new life.


    “I’m fine, baby. Just a little tired<b>.</b><b>” </b>


    But as I took another step, my legs <b>gave </b>outpletely. Thest thing I heard was <b>Caesar’s </b>frightened voice calling my name as the world went ck.


    And somewhere in the darkness, I could have sworn I heard the sound of expensive Italian leather shoes running across pavement, getting


    closer.


    But that was impossible.


    Wasn’t it?


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