Running Away from the Heartless Billionaire

CHAPTER 3

ELENA

The penthouse was as quiet as a tomb, but the heaviness that coiled in the air was suffocating.

My Louboutin heels echoed against the polished marble as I walked past the lavish furnishings Sebastian and I had chosen together—or so I had thought.

Now, every item seemed like a monument to his lies.

Lila’s laughter rang out from the kitchen, light and confident, cutting through the silent penthouse.

I stopped just before the doorway, listening as she entertained a group of Sebastian’s friends and colleagues.

“A diamond bracelet? How quaint,” sheheaves a theatrical sigh.

“Sebastian gave me an entire Cartier set. Limited edition, of course. He even had it flown in on his jet last month while we were in Paris.”

A murmur of admiration rippled through the group.

“Paris?” someone gasped.

Lila’s smile widened. “Oh, he adores Paris. We spent the weekend at the Ritz. Dinner at the Jules Verne, champagne under the Eiffel Tower—he’s just so thoughtful like that.”

I stayed hidden, my nails digging into my palm as I resisted the urge to storm in and slap that smug grin off her face.

Her words weren’t for them; they were for me. She knew I was listening.

When I finally walked into the kitchen, her eyes lit up with feigned surprise. “Elena! I didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” I replied smoothly, my gaze sweeping over the group. “Sebastian has excellent taste in . . . accessories.”

Lila’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly. “He certainly does. I suppose he’s just a generous soul.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I walked past her, my spine straight, and grabbed a glass of water.

Oh, I’d give anything to pour this down her face.

The air was palpable, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break.

None of them will see me fucking break.

Later that evening, Sebastian appeared on the doorway.

Like always, his tailored suit is immaculate and his polished demeanor greeted me like the perfect mask he had worn for years.

“Ready for dinner, darling?” he asked, flashing that signature smile—the one that had once convinced me he was the love of my life.

I picked up my clutch and nodded, my voice steady. “Do you have any late meetings or work commitments tonight?”

Sebastian shook his head, a trace of pride in his tone. “None. Tonight is ours. I’ve cleared my schedule. Nothing will interrupt us.”

For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe him, though the nagging doubt in my chest never fully left.

We slid into the back seat of his chauffeured car, the city lights reflecting off the tinted windows. As the driver pulled onto the main road.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, exuding the same effortless charm that had once drawn me in.

What a waste of a pretty face on an asshat personality.

Yet halfway through the drive, his phone buzzed, and his expression shifted.

His hand tightened around the device as he read the screen, and a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.

Let me take a very wild, fucking guess . . .

“Stop the car,” he ordered abruptly, and for some reason, a smirk curves into my lips.

This is far too predictable. I would have expected better planning from them both.

The driver obeyed without question, pulling over to the curb. Sebastian turned to me, his face a mask of regret. A practiced one he's done far too many times.

“Elena, I’m so sorry,” he said, dripping with sincerity.

“The board just called an emergency meeting. It’s urgent.”

I tilted my head, studying him carefully. His eyes avoided mine, darting nervously as if afraid of what he might find.

My anger is what he's going to find. But if he keeps this up, next time he'll soon find out how my palm would feel against his face.

“I understand,” I replied softly, calm and even.

“Business always comes first, doesn’t it?”

Relief washed over his face. “Thank you for understanding. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Without waiting for a response, he stepped out of the car and into another waiting vehicle, one that had conveniently appeared behind us.

Oh would you look at that.

I stayed silent, watching as his car sped off into the night. But I didn’t head home.

"Follow him, please." I murmur to the driver.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Grayson?" He turns to me.

"Did I stutter? I said follow that car." I insist before he finally turns the engine back on and speeds behind Sebastian.

If you're going to make me a piece in your game, don't be surprised if I decide to play, Grayson.

My chest tightened as his car came to a stop, not at the office as he had claimed, but at Lumière, the city’s newest and most exclusive rooftop restaurant.

I stayed in the shadows behind one of the restaurant's pillars, slipping unnoticed into the valet lot.

From my vantage point near the edge of the terrace, I spotted him almost immediately.

Sebastian sat at a secluded corner table with Lila—a name that now burned in my mind like a scar. Her laughter rang out as she leaned in, her hand brushing his with the ease of someone who had done it countless times before.

Rage boiled under my skin, but I forced myself to stay hidden, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. This wasn’t the time to confront him. Not yet.

They toasted with champagne, their glasses catching the soft glow of the restaurant’s romantic lighting.

The way he looked at her, his smile genuine and unrestrained, was a look he hadn’t given me in years.

Talk about some soap opera when they're out here hiding like fuckers.

By the time I returned to the penthouse, the fury within me had settled into something sharper—something colder. A plan.

With this, I hope what you did to me . . . haunts you, my love.

Sebastian walked in hours later, reeking of the faint floral perfume that clung to Lila.

He froze when he saw me sitting in the dimly lit living room, the glow of the city skyline framing me like a ghost.

That's what I would be soon in his life. A fucking ghost he would regret killing.

Later that evening, Sebastian walked into the penthouse with the confidence of a man who believed he had everyone fooled.

His tailored suit was impeccable, but the faint hint of perfume clinging to him wasn’t mine.

I don't wear cheap ones—maybe that's the difference.

“Busy day at the office?” I asked, keeping my tone light as I sip the total opposite of the drinks they had earlier—bloodied, crimson wine.

He stopped in his tracks, startled by my presence in the living room as he takes off his shoes, “Elena. I thought you’d be asleep.”

I gestured to the glass of wine in my hand. “I couldn’t sleep, you know. I had too much on my mind. Like . . . I don't know—where my husband is?”

His smile was forced. “I was going to call, but the board meeting ran late. It’s been one of those nights.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “Board meeting, was it?”

Sebastian loosened his tie, his eyes darting away. “Yes, the shareholders are a demanding bunch.”

I set my glass down and stood, my movements a little too deliberate. “Do the shareholders wear Chanel No. 5?”

His head snapped up, his mask slipping for just a second before he smoothed it back into place. “You’re imagining things, Elena. Maybe you’ve been stressed lately—”

“Don’t,” I said, my voice firm. “Don’t gaslight me, Sebastian.”

His jaw tightened, but before he could respond, I held up a small black box.

“I found this while organizing your study,” I said, handing it to him.

Sebastian stared at the box as though it were a live grenade.

Slowly, he opened it to reveal a collection of trinkets from our early years together: a pressed flower from our first date, a ticket stub from the opera I had begged him to attend, and a silver charm he had gifted me on our wedding day.

He lifted the charm, his voice soft. “You kept all of this?”

I crossed my arms, my expression unreadable—maybe I still have some love for this man, ruthless love and maybe the desire to kill.

“I thought they meant something.”

“They did,” he said quickly, his eyes searching mine. “They still do.”

I let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Do they? Because lately, it feels like I’m the only one who remembers what we once had.”

Sebastian lifted an old concert ticket from the box, the edges worn from time.

His smile softened. “This was from that opera downtown. You wore that red dress, and we danced until they kicked us out.”

His fingers brushed over a polished stone next—a smooth river rock painted with tiny stars.

“And this . . . we found it during that weekend getaway by the lake. You said it looked like the night sky and made me carry it home.” His voice dipped into something gentler.

“We made promises under those stars, didn’t we?”

I watched him quietly, keeping my face unreadable.

"We did, baby. We did." I murmur, a smile etching on my face.

For a flicker of a second, I glimpsed the Sebastian I had loved—the man who once seemed incapable of deceit. The same man I married.

But that version of him was a ghost, drowned beneath his betrayals and his mistress' bed.

“Sebastian,” I said softly, slicing through the lingering silence, “do you ever think about what comes after betrayal?”

His eyes widened, the ticket slipping out of his hand.

You believe this is a game, and you may be right. But if you think you can play it better than me, think again, Grayson.