Chapter 4 of Kidnapping the Billionaire's Heir

I swallowed my fury.

Dennis had played me for a fool, but I refused to let him see my anger. Instead, I smiled, laughed, and pretended nothing had changed. I studied his routine, memorized his schedules, and mapped out every blind spot in the security system.

It took weeks. Weeks of silent suffering. Weeks of pretending.

But when the night finally arrived, I didn't hesitate.

I clutched Lewis tightly against my chest, heart hammering as I slipped through the shadows. The cool night air bit at my skin, but I ignored it.

Behind me, alarms blared. Guards shouted.

I ran.

I didn’t stop, not even when my lungs burned, not even when my legs threatened to give out. I had to keep going.

By the time the sun rose, my strength had nearly abandoned me. I collapsed beneath an old, abandoned bridge, cradling Lewis against me.

We had nowhere to go. No food. No water. No hope.

And then—

"Georgia?"

The deep, familiar voice sent a shiver down my spine. I turned, barely able to make out the figure standing before me.

Arceus Montenegro.

My ex-boyfriend.

The man I left behind.

The man I thought I’d never see again after my parents forced us to broke each other's heart when they found out that he was just a bartender.

Arceus brought me to his home, a secluded estate hidden away from prying eyes. He didn't bombard me with questions, didn't demand answers. Instead, he simply handed me a plate of food and watched as I ate in silence.

But I knew the questions would come.

And they did.

“Why are there people out there with your face, Georgia?" His voice was calm, but his dark eyes burned with curiosity.

I hesitated. "I don’t know."

It was the truth—or at least part of it.

I saw the news about it, they titled it as ‘Georgia Wilson's Impostors Lookalike!'. I even saw interviews about some of them and then yeah, they want to steal my career.

FUCK THEM!

For weeks, I lived under his protection, slowly regaining my strength. Arceus never pushed me. Never demanded anything.

And despite everything, I felt safe.

Years passed.

Lewis grew into a bright, energetic toddler, filling the house with laughter. Arceus treated him as his own, his presence a comforting constant in our lives.

That... that make me fall for him again.

One day, we made a choice.

I changed my son’s surname to Montenegro.

If the world wanted to believe he was Arceus’s son, I would let them. It was better this way.

But I never said to him that he was Dennis's son for our safety. I have no idea if Arceus knew about him but I don't care. I needed to protect him just like how he used to protect us.

"I want you to come with me," Arceus said one evening, handing me an invitation.

It was for a grand investor's event.

I blinked at him in shock. "Why?"

"Because I want the world to know you're mine. I'm gonna marry you real soon." His expression was unreadable, but his words sent a shiver through me.

The event was overwhelming—lavish gowns, expensive suits, the weight of power in the air. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

A voice, sharp and mocking, whispered near my ear.

"Finally, hun. We meet again."

I stiffened. Dennis.

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I assume you've figured it all out by now?" he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Clever girl."

Rage burned through me.

I wanted to scream, to throw my drink in his face, to wipe that smirk off his lips.

But I didn’t.

I just smiled. Smiled like I wasn’t plotting his downfall.

Days later, on Lewis’s birthday, Arceus proposed.

The room erupted in cheers. My son giggled in my arms, oblivious to the storm raging within me.

I should have hesitated.

I should have questioned everything.

But when I looked at Arceus—the man who had given me shelter, protection, love—I said yes. This was our plan back then before everything turned into chaos.

For the first time in years, I felt like I could finally move on.

But fate had other plans.

Days later, I went to file for a Cenomar.

I nearly dropped the document when I saw the result.

I WAS ALREADY MARRIED.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the paper, disbelief washing over me in waves.

This had to be a mistake.

Desperate, I spent hours talking to the person in charge, hoping—praying—that there was some kind of error.

But there wasn’t.

The marriage was real. Legally binding.

And my husband? Fuck, it's Walter. What they're telling is a damn truth.

Exhausted and defeated, I dragged myself to the parking lot. My mind was spinning, heart pounding with unanswered questions.