Running Away with His Baby

At twentyfive, I had a child with Silas—the untouchable heir to a corporate empire. Our worlds clashed. A happy ending never stood a chance.

I grabbed his family's hush money, secured the acting gigs they threw my way, and walked away. Fast forward five years. I stood on set, catching my breath between takes.

A little boy materialized in front of me. He mirrored Silas.

His bottom lip jutted out—a messy mix of grievance and fierce pride. "My dad is Silas," he declared. "And you're my mom." I held his gaze.

I let out a soft "mm." Panic flashed in his eyes.

He dug into his tiny backpack and pulled out a stack of cash. "I want to hire you for one day." His voice cracked, thick with desperation. "Come to my school's Family Day.

Please?" Chapter 1 I pressed my lips together. My fingers brushed against his small, trembling hands, gently pushing the cash back. "I don't want your money." His breath hitched.

Tears instantly pooled in his wide eyes. He dropped his chin to his chest, his voice shrinking into a broken whisper. "Grandma said you like money.

I saved up for a really, really long time to find you." A tear tracked down his cheek. "The kids at kindergarten call me an unwanted kid. They say I don't have a mom.

I always tell them I do. I tell them my mom is a huge movie star." His small body twitched. "They keep calling me a liar.

Even though you didn't want me anymore… I didn't lie to them. But they just won't believe me." He stood there, completely still except for the shudders racking his tiny frame.

He lifted a clumsy arm, wiping his wet face with his sleeve. My chest tightened. I sank to my knees, framing his tearstreaked face with both hands.

My thumbs brushed away the dampness on his cheeks. "Keep your money," I murmured, my voice thick. "I'll go with you." His head snapped up.

His eyes filled with disbelief and irrepressible joy. The next second, he crashed into my chest. His small arms locked around my neck.

He buried his face in my collarbone and just shattered. It was as if he had suffered the greatest grievance in the world. I gently patted his back, helping him catch his breath.

Eventually, the heavy sobs dialed down to soft hiccups. He pulled back, his redrimmed eyes meeting mine before immediately darting away. A fierce blush crept up his neck.

He awkwardly turned his head away. "I don't usually cry. I'm a big boy," he mumbled, his pride bruised. "It just… slipped out." A bittersweet smile tugged at my lips.

I shook my head. "It's okay. I don't mind a few tears." The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

He gripped my fingers tight, a sudden spark of eagerness replacing his gloom. "My formal name is Hayes. But my nickname is Haze.

You can call me Haze." I chuckled, gently brushing his messy bangs out of his eyes. "I know." He blinked.

His round eyes widened, catching the light. "You know my name?" I nodded, my gaze softening. "I know." Theodore had given him his formal name on the birth certificate. But Haze?

That was the nickname I whispered to him in his crib. How could I ever forget? Back in my private trailer, my assistants, Haley and Amber, froze.

Their eyes zeroed in on the gorgeous little boy clutching my hand. "Maeve," Haley gasped, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Where on earth did you kidnap this literal angel?" I squeezed Haze's small fingers. "He's my son," I dropped the bomb, my tone deadpan.

The playful smiles slid right off their faces. They instantly panicked. "What?

Oh my god, Maeve!" Amber spiraled, rushing to yank the blinds shut. "Tell me you didn't get photographed! If this gets out, we are done for!" Haze watched my silence.

He tugged at the hem of my shirt, shrinking back. "I'm causing you trouble, aren't I? I messed up." The sheer devastation in his tiny voice acted like a bucket of ice water.

Haley and Amber froze, instant guilt washing over their panicked features. A soft laugh escaped me.

I ruffled his soft, messy hair. "You are never a burden, Haze." Haley and Amber frantically waved their hands, dropping to his eye level. "Exactly!

We were just babbling nonsense, sweetie." Haze looked up at me, then over at the two frantic girls. He unzipped his small backpack and dumped the contents onto the trailer floor.

A pair of SpiderMan pajamas, a bright yellow cartoon umbrella, a dented water bottle, his toddler toothbrush, and that thick stack of cash. A heavy lump formed in my throat.

He had packed up his entire little life just to find me. He dug his arm deep into the empty bag one last time.

He pulled out two squished string cheeses and held them out to Haley and Amber.

A shy, devastatingly sweet smile broke across his face. "For you." "Oh my god, you are the sweetest baby alive!" Haley squealed, taking the cheese like it was a gold brick. "This is literally my favorite snack ever!" Amber cooed, clutching her chest.

Chapter 2 Hearing that, Haze smiled shyly.

He dug into his little bag and pulled out a handful of the snacks. "You guys can have all of mine." After we wrapped for the day, I brought him back to my hotel room.

It took a little gentle probing to get the full story out of him.

This tiny kid had packed his bag at the crack of dawn and hailed a cab for a fourhour ride straight to the Hollywood lots.

The driver, Roy, had almost called the cops, but Haze had thrown enough cash at him to make him look the other way. He had actually been there since the morning.

But seeing me drowning in backtoback scenes, he just quietly blended into the crowd of fans waiting outside. He stood there until the sun went down.

Only when the crowd finally cleared did he sneak over to my trailer. Now, he was practically inhaling his takeout, starved. My chest caved in watching him.

I tried to speak, but a thick knot lodged in my throat, choking off the words. I couldn't wrap my head around it. A kindergartener, alone in a cab for four hours.

I couldn't imagine how anxious he must have been. My vision blurred. "What if you got lost?" I choked out, the horror bleeding into my voice.

Haze paused, his cheeks stuffed with rice like a chipmunk.

He tapped the chunky smartwatch on his wrist, grinning up at me. "I wouldn't get lost!" he mumbled through the food. "I took a picture of Roy's license plate with my watch and sent it to Zoey before I got in.

And I stayed on a FaceTime audio with her the whole time!" He had even packed a portable charger so his watch wouldn't die.

The more casually he explained his little spy mission, the tighter my chest squeezed. He had planned this so carefully. He had been planning to find me for a long, long time.

He lifted his chin, chest puffed out with pride, and started babbling about his accomplice. "Zoey sits next to me in class. She's my absolute best friend.

I'm gonna marry her when I grow up!" A surprised laugh punched through my tears. "Next time you want to see me, just call.

I'll come get you." I hesitated, a bitter taste coating my tongue. "If your dad says it's okay." He nodded enthusiastically, a bright smile lighting up his face.

Later, he stood by the bathroom door, shifting his weight from foot to foot, unable to string a sentence together. I realized he was blushing.

I shook my head, amused. "I'm not going to watch you. Here's the body wash, the shampoo, and your toothbrush. Can you handle it?" He nodded vigorously. "I can!

I take my own showers at home." "Good boy," I murmured, smoothing down his hair. Once the bathroom door clicked shut, I pulled out my phone.

I scrolled down to a thread I hadn't touched in five years. "Haze is with me." The typing bubble popped up almost instantly. "I know.

He texted me from his watch." My blood turned to ice. My hands were shaking from anger at his casual tone. But I didn't have the right to rip into him.

Not anymore. "When are you coming to get him?" "Swamped with board meetings.

Let him crash with you for a couple of days." I sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, my jaw locking so hard my teeth ached. His own son. Tossed aside like an inconvenience.

I was halfway through typing a scathing reply when the bathroom door swung open.

Haze trotted over, clutching his dirty clothes to his chest, smelling like strawberries and clean soap. "Mom, I'm all clean." I deleted the venomous text.

I locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the bed. Grabbing the blow dryer, I motioned for him to sit.

He hopped onto the little stool in front of the vanity, eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss, his little legs swinging back and forth. A soft smile broke through my anger.

I reached out and ruffled his warm, damp hair. Chapter 3 I switched off the blow dryer and tucked him into the massive hotel bed.

I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Time for sleep. I'm going to wash up." He yanked the duvet up to his nose.

Those huge, impossibly bright eyes blinked at me, and he offered a tiny nod. When I stepped out of the bathroom, he thrashed around in the sheets, a giggling mess of tangled limbs.

He spotted me. He instantly froze, flattening himself against the mattress, and patted the empty space beside him. I slid under the covers, pulling him against my chest.

His tiny, warm weight against my chest brought an overwhelming sense of peace and wholeness. I adjusted the thick blanket, gently tracing circles on his back.

A wet heat suddenly soaked through my silk pajama top. His tiny fists clamped into the fabric. His knuckles turned white, holding on like I might evaporate into thin air.

Sleep wouldn't come. The dark room dragged my mind back five years. Before Silas, I had navigated my junior year at NYU Tisch running on empty.

I sprinted across the city for background roles and smiled until my jaw ached at industry networking mixers. My rep back then offered a shortcut.

He claimed Wallace, the studio head, wanted to fasttrack my career. Everyone knew the unspoken price tag attached to that kind of generosity. The casting couch reality.

But I was young and full of pride then, so naturally I was unwilling. The retaliation hit fast. A shadow ban.

The studio froze my auditions and weaponized my exclusive contract to block me from outside projects. Breaking that contract demanded a fivemilliondollar buyout.

My bank account held pennies. They severed every lifeline. They planned to starve me out, letting my prime years rot on a shelf. Then, Silas entered the picture.

I gripped the edges of a club bathroom sink, throwing up cheap tequila, a total wreck.

A crisp linen handkerchief appeared in my peripheral vision. "If you're drowning," his voice rumbled, smooth and dangerously calm, "come to me.

I'll hand you the world." I batted his hand away. A low chuckle vibrated in his chest. He slipped a matte black card into my clammy palm. "Call me when you break.

I look a hell of a lot better than those old studio executives.

You won't suffer." The turning point came when my father injured his legs in a car accident and had to have them amputated.

I collapsed in the sterile hospital stairwell and cried my eyes out. A silver lighter clicked.

Silas stood in the shadows, exhaling a plume of gray smoke. "Maeve," he murmured, his gaze stripping me bare. "Your pride doesn't pay the medical bills." He hit the nerve.

My pride bought nothing. I folded. I went to Silas. He obliterated the fivemilliondollar contract overnight.

He placed me in his friend's entertainment company and found me the most professional manager in the industry. My reality flipped. Schedules overflowed.

Custom Dior draped my shoulders. Alist directors begged for my time. I owned Hollywood for those few glittering years.

Tangled in his expensive sheets one night, I asked why he picked me. A wicked, unapologetic smirk played on his lips. "Pure lust. I take what I want.

And I wanted you." A ruthless, simple truth. Silas belonged to a terrifying oldmoney dynasty. His world revolved around Hamptons estates and private airspace.

We existed in entirely different worlds. A transactional arrangement. No right, no wrong. I used his gravity to pull myself to the top.

But wrapped in his heat, the gaslighting of my own heart began. I fostered a foolish, delusional hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could claw my way high enough to stand as his equal.

Chapter 4 Things changed the day I found out I was pregnant. I was over the moon when I broke the news to Silas. His jaw locked.

A harsh crease formed between his brows. "Maeve," he started, his tone clipped. "I can't put a ring on your finger. You'll never be my wife. If you want the kid, keep it.

I'll write the checks. If you don't… the clinic is an option." His cold words hit me like a bucket of ice water, freezing the blood in my veins. I booked the appointment.

I really did. But sitting in that sterile waiting room, a primal, fierce instinct ripped through me. I just couldn't bear to let him go.

A week after I delivered, Josephine cornered me. Silas's mother didn't mince words. My name would never tarnish her son's corporate and political ascent.

Cashing out was my only survival strategy. She transferred my father to a premier rehab facility in Switzerland. She slid a blank check across the table.

Then, she dropped the ultimate bait—a guaranteed lead role with an Oscarwinning director. That director wouldn't return Silas's calls, but he owed Josephine blood debts.

It was an Alist circle entirely locked off to a nobody like me. Why gamble on a doomed future when guaranteed, Alist success was handed right to me? Still, I hesitated.

The final, fatal blow landed when the tabloids leaked Silas's engagement to a senator's daughter.

He didn't even try to hide it. "Where does that leave me?" I demanded, my voice cracking. He sat in the dark the entire night, smoking, refusing to utter a single word.

His silence screamed his answer. I loved the money and the lifestyle, sure. But letting myself become the dirty little secret? The permanent sidepiece? Absolutely not.

I packed my bags, took Josephine's buyout, and severed every single tie to Silas. At that time, Silas questioned me, "I can give you all of this! The roles, the cash!

Why are you doing this?" I forced a hollow laugh, staring right through him. "You can't give me the one thing I actually need." His grip slackened. He dropped his gaze in defeat.

Sunlight sliced through the hotel curtains. Haze squeezed his eyes shut, faking sleep. But his long eyelashes fluttered frantically against his cheeks. A grin tugged at my lips.

I pinched his soft cheek. "I know you're awake, faker." He giggled, burying his flushed face into my collarbone, wriggling happily under the heavy duvet. I had a rare day off.

I dragged Haze across the Universal Studios theme park, spoiling him rotten until the sun dipped low.

Back at the hotel courtyard, a matteblack, custom Maybach idled by the fountain. Leaning against the driver's side door was a ghost I knew intimately. Silas.

He wore a razorsharp suit. Spotting us, he pushed off the car and stalked in our direction. Five years had hardened him.

The ruthless, untouchable corporate titan bled through his every movement.

He stopped, aiming a glacial stare down at Haze. "Time to go home." Haze stuck out his bottom lip, digging his sneakers into the pavement. "I'm staying with Mom!

If you have so much free time, go bother your mom!" A harsh, humorless scoff ripped from Silas's throat. His dark eyes flicked to mine. "You see this? It's not that I abandoned him.

The kid refuses to step foot in my house." I squeezed Haze's small shoulder. "Tomorrow is Monday, sweetie. You have kindergarten." He shook his head vigorously.

Big, fat tears instantly pooled in his eyes, weaponizing his irresistible cuteness. Silas rolled his eyes, parting his lips to snap an order.

But Haze suddenly lunged, grabbing his father's expensive trouser leg and yanking him aside. Silas arched an arrogant brow, clearly tuning the kid out.

Haze, however, was dead serious. He planted his hands on his hips, firing off words in a hushed, rapidfire rant, looking exactly like a boss scolding a lazy employee.

Watching their bizarre dynamic, the tight knot in my chest finally loosened.

Chapter 5 Knowing Silas's notoriously ruthless temper, watching Haze comfortably throw a fullblown tantrum right in his face proved they shared a fiercely tight bond behind closed doors. "I'm not going back with you!

If you force me to go back, I'll tell Grandma you lied to a kid, and I'll have Grandpa beat you up!" Haze yelled, stomping his little foot. "Go away!

Stop ruining my solo date with Mom." Silas leaned down, leveling with the furious kid. "You showed up at her door. Why can't I?" Haze scoffed, crossing his arms. "Mom dumped you.

Why are you even here?" Silas choked on his breath. His jaw locked tight. A bitter, utterly shameless smirk twisted his lips. "You think playing the victim card works on her?

She threw me away. You really think she wants you?" Haze exploded. He shrieked about Silas bullying him, his face turning beet red.

He grabbed my hand, dragging me straight into the hotel suite. He slammed the heavy door right in his father's face. Silas seethed out in the hallway.

Haze adamantly refused to budge. A second later, a text lit up my phone screen. "Open the door?" Haze scrambled around the suite like a tiny fugitive.

He finally settled on the massive bed, kicking off his sneakers and burrowing deep under the thick duvet. I stared at the ridiculous, trembling blanket mountain on the mattress.

A helpless laugh slipped from my lips. I turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

Silas stood in the hallway, pulling out a rare scrap of manners. "Can I come in?" I nodded, stepping aside. "Sure." Silas never really cut the cord during those first two years apart.

I buried myself in backtoback film sets. I ditched the flashy VIP parties and kept my head down.

Industry vultures eagerly whispered that my billionaire backer finally tossed me to the curb. Silas's silent retaliation proved them all wrong.

Studio executives blacklisted Glenn, that sleazy Assistant Director who tried to cop a feel, replacing him by sunrise. Rival actresses hijacked my roles?

A blockbuster script magically landed on my lap the very next day.

When I occasionally attended red carpets, the highend fashion brands that were notoriously hard to borrow from never refused me when I asked.

Warren, the ruthless shark of a manager Silas originally hired for me, still controlled my every move. Everything stayed exactly the same.

Every invisible string he pulled screamed his ultimate message: I'm right here if you turn back. But turning back never existed in my playbook.

I watched him throw a multimilliondollar engagement gala for Beatrice. The tabloids aggressively branded them the ultimate power couple as they walked red carpets arminarm.

I poured my entire soul into the lead role Josephine handed me. I swept three consecutive Best Actress trophies, firmly establishing my place in the industry.

Only then did he finally loosen his grip, letting me fly solo. Silas stepped inside the room. He spotted the obvious, quivering blanket fort on the bed.

A low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. He played along, icing the kid out. His dark eyes locked onto mine. "How have you been?" I offered a polite, distant smile. "Surviving.

You?" He sat down casually. "Unmarried. Single. Riding solo. Can't complain." I blinked, staring at him, entirely speechless.

I couldn't help but ask, "What about Beatrice?" He met my gaze. A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Beatrice?

She's probably tanning on some private beach in Cabo right now, straddling her latest boy toy.

We… never actually happened." Chapter 6 I offered a soft, noncommittal hum, abruptly steering the conversation. "Take Haze back.

He has kindergarten tomorrow." The blanket instantly went flying. Haze's bare feet hit the carpet with a soft thud.

He lunged, wrapping his tiny arms in a death grip around my calf. "Mom, please don't make me leave." I stared down at his huge, watery eyes.

My resolve fractured. "But you have school, sweetie." He didn't argue.

He just buried his face deep into the fabric of my shirt, his little fists bunching up the hem, silently pleading. Silas watched the total meltdown.

A heavy sigh escaped him, and he finally cracked. "Missing a couple of days of finger painting won't kill him.

Let him shadow you on set." Haze snapped his head up, his redrimmed eyes shining. "I'll be so good, Mom!

I won't get in the way of your shoots!" I smoothed his messy hair, a warm bloom of happiness expanding in my chest.

Silas dragged a hand down his face, completely defeated by the motherson bonding. "In two days, are you even going to remember you have a dad?" Haze twisted his head, genuinely mulling it over.

Finally, he gave a slow, hesitant nod. It only took one day on the Hollywood lot for Haze to wrap the entire production crew around his little finger.

Between my takes, he'd perch obediently right beside Desmond in the director's chair, his eyes glued to the monitors. We were shooting a massive period piece.

Desmond, the director, had collaborated with me several times. He also ran in the same elite circles as Silas's family, which gave Haze total VIP immunity.

Desmond nudged the kid. "What do you think, buddy? Mr.

Desmond makes your mom look like a total knockout on screen, right?" Haze tilted his chin up, nodding fiercely. "You're a genius, Mr. Desmond. Way better than my real grandpa.

Grandpa always makes Grandma look like a blurry ghost in his photos. She yells at him all the time." Desmond threw his head back, his booming laugh echoing across the soundstage.

Someone yelled "Cut!", and I officially wrapped for the day. Within fortyeight hours, every actor on set knew I was hiding a fiveyearold secret.

The initial shockwave hit hard, but this industry adapted fast. Plus, Haze was a walking serotonin boost. The cast practically fought over him during breaks.

When Silas pulled up to the lot to fetch him, Caleb—my male lead—had Haze propped casually on his hip. Caleb grinned, poking the kid's cheek. "I play your mom's husband on camera.

Shouldn't you start calling me Dad?" Haze wrapped his tiny arms around Caleb's neck, deadpanning. "Caleb, you're definitely younger than my dad. And hotter.

Plus, you bribe me with string cheese. But if I call you Dad, my dad will get jealous.

It'd be pretty pathetic if he started crying with no one to comfort him." Caleb nearly doubled over, wheezing with laughter at the brutal roast. "Deal.

No 'Dad' required, but the string cheese supply stays unlimited." The words barely left his mouth when a dark, commanding voice sliced through the noise. "Hayes.

Get over here." He hadn't seen Silas in three days. Despite his tough act, he missed him.

Haze scrambled off Caleb like a monkey, his little sneakers hitting the asphalt as he bolted straight for Silas's long legs. He crashed into his father's thigh.

Silas stared down at the traitor, clenching his jaw. "Right. Your dad is ancient.

Your dad is hideous." Haze giggled, burying his face into Silas's designer trousers, muttering under his breath, "Where's the lie, though~" Silas hooked his hands under Haze's armpits, effortlessly hoisting him into the air.

He closed the distance to Caleb, his posture screaming territorial alpha. He extended a single, unyielding hand.

He said simply, "I'm the father of Maeve's son." Caleb met his gaze, his smile never wavering. He shook the hand. "Caleb." Chapter 7 I stepped out of the director's tent.

The two men were still locked in a deathgrip handshake. I wasn't that naive young girl anymore, so I could clearly see the tense atmosphere between them.

I walked over, dragging a heavy sigh, and leveled a glare at Silas. "What exactly are you doing?" A dangerous, arrogant smirk tipped the corner of his mouth.

He shifted his dark gaze back to Caleb, the silent challenge in his eyes deafening. "Just saying hello." I stared at him, completely speechless.

I had already packed Haze's things in my trailer, knowing Silas was dragging him back today. Haze clutched his tiny backpack to his chest.

His bottom lip jutted out, radiating pure reluctance. Then, a thought hit him.

He counted on his stubby fingers, the storm clouds clearing from his face. "Mom, the day after tomorrow is Friday! Can I come see you again?" A helpless smile broke through.

I gently pinched his soft cheek. "Anytime you want. But no more secret spy missions in cabs, okay? Text me, and I'll send someone to pick you up." That was all he needed to hear.

The gloom vanished, replaced by a blinding grin.

He yanked on Silas's expensive hem, suddenly thrilled. "Let's go, Dad!" The second the Maybach doors slammed shut, Silas launched his interrogation. "That Uncle Caleb guy…" He didn't even get to finish.

Haze casually dropped a bomb. "Uncle Caleb has a huge crush on Mom." Silas's knuckles turned bonewhite against the leather steering wheel.

A suffocated, dark "Oh" scraped his throat. He knew it. No sane guy tries to gaslight a kid into calling him 'Dad' five minutes after meeting him. A walking red flag.

He ground his teeth, forcing the next question out. "And your mom?" "Mom totally likes Uncle Caleb too." Silas's expression hardened.

The air in the car turned to ice. "How do you know that?" Haze stared straight out the windshield, his tone fatally confident. "She smiles at him all the time.

Whenever she looks at you, she just looks sad.

Plus, they kissed while they were filming today." Haze's voice suddenly pitched up, vibrating with excitement. "Dad, do you think Mom is gonna give me a little brother or a sister?

I really want a sister." Tires screeched