Chapter 117 Hiding The Heir From Him
"They are getting too close," I breathed. Panic flared in my chest.
"We need to move him again," Eduardo advised. "I secured a property near the northern border. It is remote. It will buy us time."
"Pack the bags," I ordered. "We leave in ten minutes."
I walked into the living room. Lucia sat on the carpet, building a tower out of colored wooden blocks. Elias sat across from her. He wore a thick blue sweater. He held a red block in his small hand. He looked up when I entered the room.
His face broke into a wide, brilliant smile. "Mama!"
He dropped the block and scrambled to his feet. He ran across the room and threw his arms around my legs.
"We are going on a trip, baby," I whispered. I held him close, refusing to let go.
Lucia quickly gathered his toys and packed the diaper bag. Eduardo brought the car to the rear exit. We moved fast. We operated like a military unit executing an extraction.
Ten minutes later, we were on the road.
I sat in the back of the SUV with Elias. I strapped him into his car seat. He clutched a worn stuffed bear. He looked out the window, fascinated by the passing trees. He did not understand the war raging around him. He did not know billionaires were tearing the city apart to claim him.
We drove for two hours. We reached the northern border. The landscape shifted from suburbs to dense, frozen forests. We arrived at a small, isolated cabin set deep in the woods.
I spent the afternoon playing with Elias on the braided rug in the main room. I built block towers. I read him stories about farm animals. I forced myself to smile. I forced myself to project calm, hiding the sheer terror clawing at my throat.
As evening fell, the winter sky turned a deep, bruised purple. The temperature plummeted.
Eduardo built a fire in the stone hearth. I fed Elias his dinner and carried him into the small bedroom. I rocked him until his eyes fluttered shut. I placed him in the travel crib and pulled the heavy blanket over his shoulders.
I stood by the crib for a long time. I watched his small chest rise and fall. He possessed the Johnston gray eyes, but he belonged to me.
I walked out of the bedroom and closed the door softly.
Eduardo stood near the front window. He held a pair of thermal binoculars. He scanned the dark tree line.
"The surrounding is secure," Eduardo stated. "No heat signatures. We lost them."
"For now," I said. I sat on the edge of the sofa. The exhaustion hit me, heavy and suffocating.
I pulled my encrypted phone from my pocket. I needed to check the corporate servers. I needed to ensure Aegis was stable.
A single notification glowed on the screen. It was a message from Diego.
I opened the text.
Turn on the news feed. Channel 4. Now.
I frowned. I grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned on the small television sitting in the corner of the room. I switched to the local news channel.
The screen flickered. It displayed a live shot of the Johnston Group headquarters in the capital. The massive steel and glass tower looked cold and imposing against the night sky.
A crowd of reporters swarmed the front steps. They shoved microphones toward a podium set up near the entrance.
Tristan Johnston stood behind the podium.
He wore a dark suit, but he looked completely unraveled. The polished, controlled CEO was gone. He looked exhausted.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
"Mr. Johnston!" a reporter shouted over the noise. "Can you confirm the rumors? Are you officially moving the wedding date forward?"
Tristan looked at the cameras. His gray eyes were dark and hollow.
He leaned into the microphone.
"There will be no wedding," Tristan announced.
The press pool exploded. Shouts and camera flashes filled the screen. The heir to the Johnston empire just publicly broke his engagement to the Whitmore heiress. He just triggered the poison pill in the contract.
"I am ending the marital alliance between the Johnston Group and the Whitmore Foundation," Tristan continued, his voice cutting through the chaos. "I am stepping down as Chief Executive Officer, effective immediately."
I stared at the television. The air left my lungs.
"I am liquidating my personal assets to cover the penalty clauses," Tristan stated. He laid his entire life bare on national television. "I am walking away from the board. I am walking away from the legacy."
He looked directly into the camera lens. He looked like a man staring through the screen, searching for me.
"I made a choice three years ago that cost me everything that mattered," Tristan said. "I am done choosing the empire."