He Sold My Future to Please Her, I Bought My Freedom With His Money Chapter 04

He Sold My Future to Please Her, I Bought My Freedom With His Money Chapter 04

Dawn. The city was still half-buried in fog. I wheeled my suitcase out of the condo and didn’t look back.

On the way to the airport, my phone lit up. Julian.

[Let me know when you land.]

I didn’t answer. Out of habit, I opened my feed instead.

Chloe had posted just moments ago — the back of her hand with an IV needle taped in, hospital-white walls behind it.

One line of text underneath: [Sudden fever. At least I’m not alone.] At the very edge of the frame, the edge of a watch strap.

I knew that watch. I’d ordered it for Julian in Belmont last year — one of a matching pair.

I killed the screen and set the phone face-down on my knee. At the airport, I bypassed the main terminal and headed straight for the VIP gate.

A young man in a suit was already waiting. He straightened when he saw me.

“Ms. Hayes, the jet’s ready whenever you are.” I handed him my suitcase.

Before I stepped through, I stopped by a trash can. I popped the SIM card out of my phone — five years tied to that number.

I bent it between my fingers until it snapped. The two halves dropped into the trash without a sound.

The jet was small but immaculate — everything curated down to the last detail. A flight attendant brought me an oat latte, perfectly warm.

I settled into my seat and opened my laptop. An email draft sat on my desktop — one I’d written weeks ago and never sent.

Addressed to Julian’s personal email. Three attachments.

The first — a refund confirmation. The hundred thousand, wired back to the company account the same way it came.

The second — a cross-border divorce filing. My signature was already on the last page, dated a month earlier.

The third — a formal revocation of access to every line of code in Project Starlight. I’d gone over the language a dozen times.

A chime sounded — cabin doors closing. The flight attendant leaned in.

“Seatbelt, please, Ms. Hayes.” I clicked it into place.

The jet taxied forward, the terminal sliding past the window. The engine noise climbed, and the thrust pressed me back into my seat.

The wheels left the ground. Below, the whole city fell away.

All of it, shrinking until it disappeared. The plane punched through the clouds, and sudden sunlight flooded the cabin — bright enough to make me squint.

My cursor hovered over the send button. A heartbeat.

I clicked.

[Message sent.]

I shut the laptop, leaned back, and let my eyes fall closed.

Thirty thousand feet above everything I was leaving behind, I slept — the first real sleep I’d had in three years.