The Runaway Mother: My Ex is My Boyfriend's Uncle

Five years of chasing Lachlan. I finally pulled the plug. I blocked his numbers, scrubbed his digital footprint from my life, and dodged every single event he frequented.

I even picked up a bratty, defiant toyboy on the side—a clean transaction to get a baby and ditch the father. Nobody bought it. Two years later. A highsociety gala.

I stepped into the ballroom in haute couture.

Whispers rippled through the champagne flutes, everyone waiting for the punchline. "Two years, and she's still acting like his lapdog." Lachlan stood blocking my path, tilting his chin down at me.

He swirled his drink. "Finally ready to beg?" My nails dug into my palms. My gaze shot right past him, locking onto the VIP booth directly behind his shoulder.

Two figures sat at the center table—one large, one small.

How was I supposed to know my random, disposable toyboy was actually the most untouchable, ruthless heir in the East Coast elite? And damn him. He snatched my kid and ran off.

Again. Chapter 1 "I want to get married." The luxury boutique had been cleared out, leaving behind a suffocating, dead quiet. Lachlan sat on the velvet sofa.

He twisted the signet ring on his pinky, his thumb freezing against the cold metal. "Pick a date." He said it like he was commenting on the weather.

Nothing about me could make a dent in his armor. But someone else could. I stood up.

My heels clicked against the marble as I walked toward the frosted glass door at the back of the boutique.

Lachlan's entourage formed a human wall in front of it. "Nothing to see in there." One of them let out a harsh scoff. "Look at her, acting like she's here to catch a cheating husband.

Who does she think she is? She actually thinks Lachlan likes her?" "I bet she started that fire herself.

If she hadn't 'saved' him, his family never would've pressured him into this. Manipulative bitch." "Zero shame.

All just to secure the ring." My nails dug into my palms until the skin went numb. I kept my eyes pinned to the floor, pulling a sharp breath into my tight chest.

I reached out to shove past them. "Tamsin. That's enough." The voice sliced through the air, cold and deep. Lachlan had materialized right behind me.

His hand clamped onto my shoulder—a grip pretending to be a gentle embrace—and steered me away from the door. "What are you doing?" "Why can't I look?

Who's in there?" A sharp sting hit the back of my throat. Five years. You could warm up a literal block of ice in five years. "You wanted to get married.

I said yes." His tone was dead hollow. "Don't cross the line." "And if I do?" An hour ago, my screen had lit up with an unknown number: [ Tamsin, watch this.

You can marry him, but the second I snap my fingers, Lachlan will drop everything and come to me. ] Case in point. He was supposed to be spending the day with me.

One phone call, and he vanished halfway through our date, leaving his fratboy entourage to stand guard. "Be good." His rough thumb swiped a stray tear from my cheek.

A thinly veiled threat wrapped in a low murmur. "Making a scene right now won't end well for you." Camille was an upandcoming jewelry designer trending online.

A public scandal would tank her brand. He was protecting her. I looked down at my shoes. The frantic beating in my chest flatlined. Just like that, the wedding was off.

I pulled my shoulders back and pinned a flawless smile onto my face.

I turned to the frozen sales associate. "Bring me the most expensive ring in the vault." The jeweler's eyes flicked to Lachlan in panic.

Half an hour ago, this exact untouchable billionaire was helping another woman try on diamonds in the VIP room. Now he was out here with me.

She froze behind the counter, too scared to breathe. Lachlan flicked his wrist, giving her the green light. I didn't scream. I didn't cry.

I just stood still as the associate slipped the heavy diamond onto my finger. The 'Heart of True Love'. Six flawless carats. A cool two million dollars.

Lachlan stared at the ostentatious rock. A tiny crease formed between his brows, but he kept his mouth shut. Behind him, one of the guys muttered, "Unbelievable.

Two million bucks, gone in a second. Cam—" An elbow slammed into his ribs, cutting him off. I admired how the diamond caught the light, my face a carefully blank mask.

I grabbed my designer bag from the counter. "Have a great time, you two." Chapter 2 [ Lachlan ] No screaming. No crying. She just walked away.

My jaw tightened, the frown carving deeper into my face. The frosted glass door clicked open.

Camille stepped out. "Lachlan, did I cause trouble?" One of the guys practically jumped to answer. "Lachlan, I bet that woman set the fire herself just to marry into your family.

A twomilliondollar ring? She's got some nerve asking for that!" "Two million?" Camille gasped.

A sharp, ugly flash of jealousy warped her features before she quickly masked it, biting her lip until the blood drained from it.

If she hadn't run away during that fire six months ago, she would have been the one to save Lachlan. She would be the one marrying him now. It was all Tamsin's fault.

The jealousy in Camille's eyes darkened.

She looked at me, her eyes wide and fragile. "Lachlan, I don't mean anything by this, but… are you really going to marry a golddigger like Tamsin?" I stayed seated on the velvet sofa, the perfectly tailored fabric of my suit stretching over my crossed legs as I watched them scramble.

I kept my gaze steady on her, letting the silence stretch. "I make money so my wife can spend it." Camille's face went dead white. "I didn't mean it like that." She swayed slightly, letting out a series of weak, breathless coughs.

She had been sickly since we were kids. All it took was one cough, and the guys in our childhood circle would instantly fold and give her whatever she wanted. Case in point.

Carter immediately stepped in to run interference. "Alright, alright.

We finally get a night out together, are we really going to fight over an outsider?" He helped Camille sit down, shooting me a dark, warning glare. "We all grew up together.

Does Tamsin have that kind of history with us?" "You can't play favorites.

You bought her a twomilliondollar ring—what about Camille?" Camille pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes locked on me with desperate, trembling hope.

I lazily lifted my gaze. "She's designing all the jewelry for my wedding.

Isn't that taking care of her enough?" "Aren't you worried your wife will be pissed?" Gideon chimed in. "That girl looks soft, but she's got a spine of steel." I lit a cigarette.

Through the curling, heavy smoke, the sharp angles of my face were cast in shadow. I let a smirk touch my lips. "I like her spine." [ Tamsin ] 3:00 AM.

The bedroom door clicked open. The mattress dipped. Lachlan laid down beside me.

The stench of hard liquor mixed with a cloying, heavy perfume hit my nose, instantly churning my stomach. I couldn't fake sleep for another second.

I lashed out with my foot, shoving him hard toward the edge of the mattress. The amber glow of the wall sconce hit his face, catching a rare flicker of unguarded shock.

He hissed, his tongue pressing hard against the inside of his cheek. Then, his eyes darkened. A wolf locking onto its prey. His hand shot out.

His fingers locked around my bare ankle. Skin against skin, the heat of his palm burned.

He lunged, dragging me back and pinning me flat against the sheets. "Trying to murder your husband?" His face hovered inches from mine. A wicked, reckless smirk played on his lips.

His breathing was heavy, the heat of it washing over my collarbone. I used to be obsessed with that face.

Even in the dim light, his broad shoulders and narrow waist cut a sharp silhouette. Flawless bone structure. A tiny, faint mole resting right on the bridge of his straight nose.

He was painfully gorgeous. Back in college, before we were together, sneak shots of him circulated through every group chat.

The running joke was: For a guy that hot, being broke would just be an endearing quirk. Too bad Lachlan was filthy rich on top of it.

Women lined up around the block, practically begging to throw themselves at him. Chapter 3 My collision with Lachlan started back in college. A debate tournament.

The topic: If you had a superpower to make the person you love love you back, would you use it? I was on the affirmative. He was on the negative.

I stared right at his striking face, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. "Falling in love isn't a flex.

I could fall for eight hundred guys a day." "But making me stay in love with one man? Now that takes a superpower." We tore each other apart on that stage. A perfect match of wits.

The campus forums exploded with shipping threads, crowning us the ultimate enemiestolovers trope. Slowly, he started living rentfree in my head.

No guy had ever crushed my GPA before. Back then, it was just morbid curiosity. Until one night at a dive bar.

Some creep wouldn't take no for an answer, grabbing at my roommate and me. I grabbed a beer bottle by the neck, fully ready to smash it over his head.

Then, a heavy arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back against a solid chest. I spun around and slammed right into a pair of dark, arrogant eyes.

A deep crease formed between his brows.

He pried the bottle from my whiteknuckled grip. "You're reckless." He pulled me behind his broad frame. "Ever heard of calling the cops?" After we spent the night giving statements at the precinct, we swapped numbers.

My very first text to him: [ Lachlan. I'm using the superpower. ] His reply was instant: [ What? ] And that kicked off a fiveyear chase.

From undergrad straight through to entering the corporate world, my entire orbit revolved around Lachlan.

Six months ago, he was up at a mountain lodge with Gideon and the rest of the boys. A fire broke out. I dragged him out of the inferno myself. His clothes were charred to his skin.

I clung to his sootstained body, gasping for air, terrified that if I'd been a second later, he'd be gone. Even halfdead, he still had that reckless smirk.

His thumb brushed the grime and tears off my cheek. "Stop crying." "Guess I owe you my life. How about I marry you to pay it off?" He was the one who offered the ring.

Yet somehow, the narrative twisted until I was the manipulative bitch forcing his hand.

I shoved my hands flat against his chest, breaking the physical contact between us on the bed. "Wire me two million dollars. Taxfree.

Put 'Voluntary Gift' in the memo." The heat immediately drained from the air. He leaned back. "What, using me as your personal ATM now?" I didn't blink. I just stared at the wall.

He reached up, yanking his tie loose. "Camille is going to be the Maid of Honor." Right. I was the actual joke here. "Sure. Just make sure the wedding is spectacular.

We wouldn't want to slight the Maid of Honor." His phone buzzed against the nightstand. The screen lit up with a barrage of group chat notifications. He ignored the buzzing.

His dark eyes stayed pinned to my face, searching for a crack. Usually, the mere mention of Camille would trigger a screaming match. I'd throw things. I'd cry. Now?

I was just coldly demanding a wire transfer. His tongue pushed hard against the inside of his cheek. The muscles in his jaw worked. The silence stretched tight enough to snap.

He leaned down, his shadow swallowing me, his lips hovering a millimeter from mine. The phone blared to life. A direct call. Camille's name flashed on the screen.

Whenever it came to Camille, it was an instant reflex. This time was no different. He pulled away. He grabbed the phone and hit answer.

Her sweet, breathy voice leaked through the speaker. It was poison, seeping into the air and executing every last lingering illusion I had about him. A man like this.

Loving him any longer was a literal death sentence. Chapter 4 [ Tamsin ] "I'm heading over now," Lachlan replied. He grabbed his tailored coat from the armchair.

His long fingers tapped across his phone screen for a few seconds. "Money's transferred." He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. "Wait for me." I hooked my finger into the cuff of his sleeve. "If you walk out that door today, I don't want you anymore." He paused.

His thumb brushed the curve of my cheek, a patronizing smirk touching his lips. "Baby, you could never." The heavy front door clicked shut.

I threw the covers off, dragged my suitcase from the closet, and began systematically stripping my presence from the room. No tears. No hesitation.

Once the zipper was pulled shut, I grabbed my phone. [ You're not going to demand the money back, right? ] His reply came a minute later.

Across the city, he was probably peeling a drunken Camille off his chest. [ Baby, men in my family don't ask for refunds. ] I sent back a pitiful emoji. [ Aren't you terrified of falling in love with me and then losing me?

What if I leave, and you have to use all your family's connections to hunt me down? I won't be softhearted when that happens. ] An audio message popped up.

His tone carried the lazy arrogance of a man who knew he owned me. "Baby, I'll have my people wipe your digital footprint right now." "I guarantee no one will be able to track you.

Do you really have it in you to run?" I pressed my hand flat against my chest, physically forcing my racing heartbeat to steady.

I held down the microphone icon, keeping my tone flawlessly sweet and calm. "Of course I wouldn't.

Lachlan, you're the person I love most in the world." [ Lachlan ] I hit replay on her voice note. Then again.

My focus zeroed in on the tiny speaker, drowning out Camille's drunken whimpers beside me. Carter, who was currently propping Camille up, caught the end of the audio.

He let out a harsh scoff. "She's practically begging on her knees." I tapped play one more time.

That soft, delicate confession smoothed the tight knot of tension right out of my shoulders. I shot Carter a cold, sideways glance. "It's called marital banter.

Not that you'd know." I pressed the mic icon. "Baby, I just gave the order. Your tracks are wiped.

Let me know when you're running away so I can drop you off at the airport." A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

Usually, this was the exact moment her name would flash across the screen with an incoming call.

Or better yet, she'd physically storm into the club, throw herself into my arms, throw a tantrum, and force me to swear I'd never leave her. But this time. The minutes dragged.

The screen stayed dark. A sharp, inexplicable itch clawed at the back of my neck. I opened her contact and dropped my live location. [ Pestering my guys for my whereabouts again?

Just come here. ] I hit send. A harsh, bright red exclamation mark popped up next to the bubble. [ Message Not Delivered. ] My jaw locked.

I dialed my head of security immediately. "Where is Tamsin?" The response came back instantly. "Boss… didn't you just explicitly order us to wipe all of Ms.

Tamsin's tracks?" The Lachlan family empire was a ruthless machine. My orders were absolute law. Every camera, every flight log, every digital breadcrumb—gone.

No one could pinpoint her. It didn't matter. In my head, this was just another one of her elaborate games to get my attention. She was playing hard to get.

Even three months later, I was still sitting in my office, flipping through premium wedding venues. I was going to throw the most spectacular wedding this city had ever seen.

Because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would come crawling back.

Chapter 5 Word reached my desk that Tamsin had fenced the twomilliondollar diamond ring on the black market. My first thought? Is she short on cash?

My head of security hesitated, shifting his weight. "Boss, we tracked down Ms. Tamsin's burner account.

You might want to take a look yourself." I didn't even lift my head from the merger files. She was probably posting pathetic, desperate quotes about missing me.

It had been three months. She was overdue to come crawling back. A faint smirk touched my lips. I took the iPad from his hands. One glance.

The custom fountain pen snapped perfectly in half between my fingers. Black ink bled into the creases of my palm. Tamsin. The woman who swore she'd love me until she died.

The literal day after she left me, she bought herself a toyboy. With my money. Cute.

I pulled up my verified, official account and slid directly into her DMs. [ Got enough cash? ] Her reply was instant. [ Who is this? ] [ Your husband. ] [ … ] [ If you're actually keeping a sugar baby, is two million really enough? ] She stopped replying.

A second later, the bright red exclamation mark popped up. Blocked. Again. That afternoon, I put a citywide bounty on her.

I quoteretweeted her burner account from my official page: [ Wife, I'll wire you another two million. Just make sure I don't catch you. ] [ Tamsin ] Paris, France.

The midday sun melted like warm butter over the romantic cobblestone streets.

I sat at a sidewalk café, aggressively chewing on my iced latte straw, my chin propped in my hand as I scanned the local eye candy walking past. Ugh. Not as tall as Lachlan.

Nowhere near Lachlan's commanding vibe. Bridge of the nose? Too flat compared to Lachlan's. Abs? Definitely not as rockhard as Lachlan's.

I finished my sweep of the street and slumped back in my chair. Infuriating! Was Lachlan's genetic lottery just that toptier, or was my taste completely broken?

I gnawed on the plastic straw, oblivious to the corner of the block. [ Lachlan ] Parked in the discreet shadows of the Parisian alleyway sat my silver Maybach. I sat in the back.

Gideon was next to me. Carter and Camille were up front.

Gideon stared at the side of my face, his voice deadpan. "The girl we've been tearing the city apart for… just sitting right here." We were supposed to be chaperoning Camille's European vacation.

I had a multimilliondollar acquisition to close. In the front seat, Camille's knuckles turned stark white against her designer bag. If looks could kill, Tamsin would be a ghost.

We had been parked here for a full hour. No one in the car dared to ask what my endgame was.

Carter let out a loud yawn, finally breaking the suffocating silence. "What's so interesting about watching a lapdog?

Lachlan, can we—" He wanted to ask why four trustfund heirs were wasting time watching a pathetic doormat flirt with random European men. I cut my eyes toward him.

The temperature in the car flatlined. Carter swallowed his words, freezing in his seat. I shoved the Maybach door open. My luxury leather shoes hit the pavement.

Behind me, Carter exhaled a shaky breath, immediately back to his gloating. "That lapdog is dead meat.

The last guy who played games with Lachlan is still stuck in a deadend outpost in Alaska." But Gideon just pulled out his phone.

He zoomed in the camera lens, aiming it squarely at my back. Lapdog? He was probably wondering who the real lapdog was. The three of them had nothing but free time to kill. But me?

I had just stalled an eightfigure buyout. Just to sit in a parked car for an hour. And in that exact hour?

I sat there and watched Tamsin run her fingers over eight different men's hands. I watched her ogle four different men's abs. I watched her type three new numbers into her phone.

So… Who was the real lapdog here? Chapter 6 Broad daylight. A cold, damp prickle crawled up the back of my neck, like a viper locking onto its prey.

It dragged me right back to my freshman year, chasing Lachlan. The man was an arrogant, icecold bastard.

But God, he was built like a Greek god and had a face that belonged on a billboard. He was the undisputed king of campus, untouchable. One year at a frat mixer.

Lachlan sat directly across the room from me. I kept my face blank.

Under the table, my thumbs flew across my screen: [ Handsome, are you an introvert or an extrovert? ] [ Sociopath. ] [ Pouting kitten emoji.

My parents didn't let me date when I was little. Now you're not letting me. ] [ Sober up. ] [ Okay, new topic.

Do you think oversharing is important in a relationship? ] [ Yes. ] [ Then if you don't like me, can you share your hottest friend with me? ] He stopped typing.

Across the room, his dark lashes lifted. His gaze pinned me down—lazy, cynical, and unimpressed. Carter snapped a picture of that exact look.

He blasted it to their group chat. [ Never seen Lachlan look at a girl with so much disgust.

Tamsin has zero chance. ] [ Camille: So desperate. ] But nobody knew what was happening in my DMs. A new message popped up from Lachlan: [ Say that to my face. ] I chickened out.

I mumbled an excuse about the bathroom and bolted. The entire walk down the hall, I could feel the cold weight of his stare burning into my spine. Just like right now.

Every alarm bell in my head started ringing. The loud, bustling Parisian street suddenly dropped into dead, eerie silence. I turned my head. Slowly. Stiffly. Perfect.

A wall of men in tailored black suits, all wearing the Lachlan family crest, stood in a perfect line. And the man I had cursed a thousand times over?

He was standing exactly fifteen feet away. Our eyes locked. He reached up and pulled off his aviators. The sharp line of his brow arched.

His voice was a low, chilling drawl that sliced through the warm air. "Tamsin. You have fifteen minutes to run." "If I catch you." "You're dead." I didn't even breathe.

I turned and sprinted. Fifteen minutes later. A narrow alley behind a row of bars. Carter stepped out, crossing his arms over his chest to block my path. "You pathetic doormat.

If you hadn't pissed Lachlan off, we wouldn't have wasted an hour of our lives. Turn around and go beg for his forgiveness." I spun around.

Camille was standing at the other end of the alley. "Absolute clown." I looked frantically to the side. Gideon leaned against a brick wall, flashing me a brilliant, sunny smile.

He stepped aside, opening up a clear escape route. "Run faster! I got a million bucks riding on Lachlan not catching you today." I nearly cried from gratitude.

I lunged toward the gap. A cold, terrifying voice echoed from the mouth of the alley. "Three million. Stop her." Gideon shrugged.

He lazily stuck out his long leg. "Sorry, sweetheart." Bastard! My ankle hooked his calf. I lost my footing, pitching backward into empty air.

The clear blue sky spun above me in a dizzying blur. Then, solid muscle slammed against my spine. A thick, heavy arm clamped around my waist, completely swallowing my momentum.

Lachlan caught me perfectly against his chest. Smack! His heavy palm cracked down hard against my ass. The sound echoed loudly in the alleyway. "Try running again." "Ahhh! Lachlan!

I'm going to kill you!!" In broad daylight! He spanked me! My lungs burned as I gasped for air. The world flipped upside down as he seamlessly hoisted me over his broad shoulder.

His other hand casually scooped up my discarded heels from the pavement.

Carter scoffed. "The lapdog is actually dead this time." Camille stood perfectly still, the color draining slightly from her face. Gideon just grinned. "Three million.

Easy money." Chapter 7 Lachlan tossed me into the back of the Maybach. The engine roared to life, blurring the Parisian streets into streaks of light outside the tinted windows.

Physical escape was dead. Time for Plan B. I slumped against Lachlan's broad shoulder, burying my face in his suit jacket, and let out a string of pathetic, trembling sobs.

In the driver's seat, the bodyguard smartly hit a button. The soundproof privacy partition rolled up, sealing us in the back. A deep crease formed between Lachlan's brows.

His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away a fabricated tear. "What are you crying for? I haven't even done anything to you." "You're bullying me." I sniffled.

The absolute audacity of this man. He didn't even like me, yet he refused to cut the cord. We were done!

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a sharp breath. "Who is bullying you? Did you ask for money and I didn't wire it?

Did you ask for me and I didn't show up?" I crossed my arms, turning my face to the window. "I asked to be left alone." The air turned heavy. "Kill that thought." His large hand slipped under my jacket, his thumb tracing the dip of my spine in slow, deliberate strokes. "The wedding is set for a year from now.

Are you happy?" Back when I was stupid enough to love him, melting into his touch like this was my favorite thing in the world. But now? My skin crawled.

I pulled back, slapping his hand away. "Why a year? Why not three months?

Why not six?" The pieces snapped together perfectly, dropping my core body temperature to freezing. "Because your precious Camille needs time.

You're giving her a full year to finish her design degree so she can use my wedding as her grand debut, right?" I glared at him. "How stupid do you actually think I am, Lachlan?

You want me to use my own wedding to boost the brand of your little side piece!" His hand shot out.

Rough fingers clamped hard around my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his dark, freezing gaze. "Who gave you permission to speak like that?" His grip tightened. "Camille is not a side piece." A harsh laugh ripped from my throat.

A woman who spent every waking hour plotting my downfall, and he was defending her. "Right. My mistake. I'm being petty.

I shouldn't target other women." I deliberately dragged my eyes down his body. "Honestly, leaving you opened my eyes. The world outside is fantastic.

Full of young, gorgeous men." The fingers biting into my jaw froze. The temperature in the Maybach plummeted. "Keep talking." "You know how it is. A woman as rich and pretty as me?

If you don't act fast during a fight, the next guy in line is already begging on his knees." I held his deadly stare. My fingers moved to the top button of my silk blouse.

I undid it, popping the collar open just enough to expose the dark, swollen hickey bruised into the sensitive skin of my neck. "My current guy? He's clingy. He's sweet.

And he uses all his stamina on me." I tilted my head. "If you keep stalking me like this