Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Eden
The drive to Montana takes two days.
We stop at a hotel the first night—somewhere anonymous off the highway where no one asks questions and paying cash is perfectly acceptable.
Vaughn registers under a false name.
Pays for the room with bills from a wallet I've never seen before.
Everything planned. Everything prepared.
Like he knew, even before he walked into that showcase, that we might end up running.
We don't talk much that first night.
Just hold each other in the generic hotel room with its scratchy sheets and the sound of highway traffic outside.
Processing what we did. What we left behind. What comes next.
"Do you regret it?" I finally ask in the darkness.
"No. Not for a second. Do you?"
"No. I'm terrified of what happens next. But I don't regret it."
"Good. Get some sleep. We have a long drive tomorrow."
I sleep curled against him.
The second day passes in a blur of highway and mountains and gradually changing landscape.
Virginia to West Virginia to Ohio to Indiana to Iowa to South Dakota to Montana.
The scenery transforms with each state—from rolling green hills to flat plains to the first glimpses of real mountains rising in the distance like promises.
Callum drives without complaint.
He doesn't ask questions.
Just gets us where we need to go with the quiet loyalty of someone who's been with Vaughn for years.
During a gas station stop while Vaughn is inside paying, I find myself standing next to Callum by the car, both of us stretching our legs in the cool air.
"Thank you," I tell him. "For helping us. For not—for not judging what we did. What we are."
Callum looks at me with kind eyes that crinkle at the corners.
"Mr. Sutherland is a good man. Maybe he didn't start this the right way.
But he ended it the right way. That's what matters.
And you—you make him better. Make him human instead of just ambitious.
So, no thanks necessary, Miss Eden. It's an honor to help. "
The words make my throat tight with emotion I don't quite know how to process.
"I don't know if I make him better. I just—I just love him. Even though I probably shouldn't. Even though it's completely insane given how we started."
"Love is always a bit insane," Callum says with a small smile. "The sane kind isn't worth much, in my experience. It's the insane kind—the kind that makes you give up everything, risk everything, choose someone over your own best interests—that's the kind that lasts. That's the kind worth having."
Vaughn emerges from the gas station with coffee and snacks.
Callum excuses himself to use the restroom, leaving us alone by the car.
"What were you two talking about?" Vaughn asks, handing me a coffee.
"Love. And insanity. And how the two might be the same thing."
He smiles. "Callum's a philosopher at heart. Always has been. Ready to get back on the road?"
"Ready."
We reach Montana as the sun is setting on the second evening, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and purple that seem impossible, too vivid to be real.
The landscape has transformed completely from anything I've ever known—wide open spaces that stretch forever, mountains in the distance rising like ancient guardians, sky so big it feels like you could fall up into it and never stop.
It's beautiful. Overwhelming.
This is wild. Untamed. Free.
Like maybe I can be wild and untamed and free here too.
The house appears as we turn off the main road onto a long gravel drive that winds through pine forest.
It sits in a clearing surrounded by trees, mountains visible beyond, a small meadow stretching behind it where wildflowers probably bloom in summer.
It's not large—maybe three bedrooms—but it's beautiful in a rustic, honest way.
Log construction that looks hand-built.
Wide windows reflecting the sunset.
A porch that wraps around the entire structure like an embrace.
Nothing like the estate we left behind.
This is simpler. More real.
A place you could actually live instead of just existing to impress others.
"It's perfect," I say as we pull up.
"It's isolated," Vaughn warns. "The nearest neighbor is probably five miles away. The nearest town is thirty miles. We'll be very alone out here."
"Good. I've had enough of crowds and audiences and people watching. Alone sounds perfect."
Inside is exactly what I expected after seeing the exterior—simple but comfortable.
Furniture that looks handmade from local wood.
A stone fireplace dominating one wall of the living room.
A kitchen that's functional rather than fancy, with appliances that are practical instead of high-end.
Everything is the opposite of the estate we left behind.
"I bought this place five years ago," Vaughn explains as we walk through, our footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors.
"Right when I first joined the Consortium.
Thought I might need a bolt-hole someday if things went wrong.
Somewhere they couldn't find me if the relationship soured.
Never actually thought I'd use it. Never imagined I'd be here with—" He stops.
"With someone you bought at an auction?" I finish gently.
"With someone I love. Someone who makes this place feel like home instead of just a hiding spot."
I cross to him and take his hands. "It is home. Or it will be. We'll make it home together."
He pulls me close, and we stand there in the living room of this rustic Montana house, holding each other as the last light fades outside and the first stars appear in that impossibly big sky.
"No one knows about this place except Callum," Vaughn says quietly. "It's in a trust under a different name. The deed is buried in paperwork that would take months to untangle even if someone knew where to look. They won't find us here, Eden. We're safe."
"Are you sure?"
"As sure as I can be. The Consortium has resources but they're not omnipotent. And I made it very clear what happens if they come after us. The threat I made about exposing their secrets—that wasn't bluffing. I have documentation. Evidence. Five years' worth of insurance."
The weight of what he's done settles over me again.
Not just walking away from the showcase.
Not just choosing me over the inner circle, but actively threatening the most powerful men he knows.
Making himself their enemy to protect me.
"Did you really collect evidence on them? On all their illegal activities?"
"Yes. Started the moment I joined. Every illegal acquisition I witnessed or heard about.
Every underage girl. Every woman who disappeared under suspicious circumstances.
Every law they broke while hiding behind their wealth and power.
I documented all of it. Stored it in multiple secure locations they can't access. "
"That's—that's incredibly dangerous. If they knew—"
"They know now. I told them. That's the only reason they're not actively hunting us. The cost of coming after us is too high. We have mutually assured destruction now. They leave us alone, I leave them alone. They come after us, I release everything and watch their world burn."
"So, we're safe because you're holding a gun to their heads."
"Essentially, yes. It's not perfect, but it's the best protection I can give us."
I think about that.
About the threat hanging over us.
About the Consortium out there somewhere, angry and humiliated but unable to retaliate directly.
It should scare me.
Should make me feel hunted.
Should make this house feel like a prison instead of a refuge.
But it doesn't. Because we're together. Because we chose this. Because even with the threat looming, we're more free than we've ever been.
The first week passes in strange suspension, like we're existing in a bubble separate from the rest of the world.
No news from the Consortium.
No contact with the outside world except the satellite internet that works sporadically at best.
Just us and Callum and the house and the endless Montana landscape.
Callum stays in the guest room, giving us privacy but remaining close in case we need anything.
He makes supply runs to the nearest town—thirty miles of winding mountain roads—and brings back groceries and news from the outside world.
"Nothing in the papers," he reports after the first trip, setting bags on the kitchen counter. "No mention of the showcase or any incident. The Consortium keeps their business extremely private. As far as the public is concerned, nothing happened."
"What about my company?" Vaughn asks, helping unload groceries with the kind of domestic normalcy that still feels surreal given where we were just a week ago.
"Some rumors circulating in business circles. Questions about where you are, why you've gone dark. But nothing concrete. Your CFO is handling things well. Business as usual for now. The markets haven't reacted."
"Good. That's good. Thank you, Callum."
But I can see the tension in Vaughn's shoulders as Callum leaves us alone.
Can see the way he checks his phone compulsively even though there's barely any signal out here.
Can see the worry he's trying to hide.
He gave up everything for me.
Made enemies of the most powerful men he knew.
Threatened them with exposure.
Put his entire business at risk.
And now we're waiting to see what the fallout will be.
Waiting to see if the threat was enough.
Waiting to see if we're really safe or if this is just the calm before the storm.
The guilt gnaws at me during quiet moments.
Makes me wake up at three in the morning staring at the ceiling, wondering if I should have just performed at the showcase.
Just let him have both—me and the inner circle.
Just submitted to one more degradation to save him from losing everything.
Would that have been so terrible?
Would it have been worse than this uncertainty, this waiting, this knowledge that I cost him fifty million dollars and his entire social circle and the inner circle he worked toward for five years?
But then I remember.