Hiding The Billionaire's Son After Divorce

ria'

n ye

regnant and heartbroken, with nothing but a

val gate of JFK, holding the hand of the

ler

n his face. He looked exactly the same as I remembered him: tall, sleek, always impeccably dressed in dark suits and matching tie

iot's hand to give him a quick hug.

d have had my head if I didn't show up myself. He's been che

ftly. "Sound

Elliot climbed in on his own, settling into the back seat like a little

of the airport parking lot. "Especially the little guy. He

ame to see us when Elliot was born," I reminisced softly. "Flew all the way to Auckland

t I know for a fact those trips were sacred to him. Even if it w

s drifting to the glass.

so badly it felt like my chest was caving in. I remembered what my father told me when I was

her daughter like that. One day she was brushing my hair, singing

ose to her, an

had smiled more or cried less, she would've stayed. The questions haunted me for years. I'd throw tantrums s

sto

behind, trying to give me everything, anything.

tal room with no one to hold my hand or guide me through the te

I panicked over the smallest things. There were nights I couldn't sl

mothers and the patience of a saint. She doubled as my therapist, guiding me through it,

I

re than survive-I st

verything. The truth about the marriage, the lies, the

use himself h

, but somehow-by what I can only call the grac

ty, set me up comfortably. But I decl

t the real world felt like. But I was a mother now. I wanted to be

t. Still, he made me promise that if I ever

rom

disabled children. At first, it was just something to do. Someth

through their eyes, fighting for their

laughter. He was surrounded by children, most of whom

y too smart

should be arriving at Grandpa's mansion in precisely thirteen minutes, based on the current sp

through the mirror, grinning.

estly. "I like to k

what do you want as a r

ild, Uncle Clark. I don't need to get a reward for everything

back the laugh

id fondly, rufflin

e I love you, Mommy," he sighe

laughter bubbling in my c

a miniature professor. With his soft blonde hair and pi

ce was

when thinking-he was the spitting image of his father. It hurt sometimes. Seeing Luka in him. Remembe

e. He was

ttle

ained some notoriety. My name was often mentioned at charity galas, fundraisers,

to a massive charity ball in New

why we'

e for a few days, maybe a week.

been trying to convince me to stay in New

running into Luka ag

e the feeling that coming back

agic little love story. The heartless heiress who killed his fiancée

dn't matt

owe him

owe him

r paths crossed, I would walk r

family and my work

s a formal black-tie charity gala hosted by the Ashton Foundation. Very exclusive, very high-p

I quipped, turning

h, receive an award for your humanitarian work, and possibly secure funding f

was proud of my work. But this was

ou, baby? Want to come to the bal

confidence. "I want to come. I even prepar

lly?" I

proud, Mommy. Everyone

oubt it fo

his mind worked in ways far beyond his age. At six years old, he was already solving twelfth grade math problems an

Philosophical at times. Sometim

o much to call him a genius-but I'

want him growing up thinking intelligence was the only thing that ma

her's face, but he had

nk God

s hand gently. "You already ma

t perfect, boyish charm tha

wasn't just proud of

'd never recover from what Luka did to me. Times I thought I'd never

Elliot loved life. He was emotionally stable,

er was. But now I wa

my father's mansion, I knew I was ex

er son. And a new ch