A Debt Repaid (A Dark Billionaire Romance) (The Debt Duet Book 2)
A Debt Repaid: Chapter 2

Through the city streets, I run as fast as I can in my long white slanted-shoulder dress and high heels. People stare at me wherever I go, but I don’t know if it’s because of the ridiculously fancy outfit or the way I’m running.

I’ve never fled something this fast, never knew my legs could take me as far as they are. Running on pure adrenaline right now, I don’t even know where I’m going. I just know I need to get away from that store and away from Jill.

The shock and horror on her face replay over and over in my mind as my feet take me someplace I’ve never been. A sudden wave of guilt washes over me because he will likely punish Jill for letting me go.

I pause for a moment.

Should I go back?

No, I’ve come too far and sacrificed too much to turn back.

The moment I stole that lady’s key and went out that door, I made my decision. I need to stick to it, no matter the cost.

I need to get away from him—Easton Van Buren, my husband, my tormentor—but at what price?

My lungs feel as though they’re about to burst from running so hard. When I can’t take it any longer, I stop and bend over to catch my breath. Oxygen fills me, but the longer I remain still, the more jittery I become. Though my body is high on the adrenaline that comes with escaping my captor, it’s clouding my mind too. I haven’t thought any of this through.

What will happen to my father now that I’m no longer in Easton’s possession?

Will Easton have him killed?

And the rest of my family too?

That thought alone makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Just because I don’t have the best relationship with my father and brother doesn’t mean they’re not still my family. Somewhere deep down inside, I still love them a tiny bit, and that tiny bit is enough to break me both physically and mentally. Sinking down onto my heels somewhere in an alley, I wrap my arms around my legs. For the first time in forever, I take a moment to think … to breathe, and to come to my senses.

To realize that I’m finally out of that wretched mansion and free to roam the world again.

But where do I go? Back to my father and brother, so I can warn them and keep them safe?

No, they’d send me back to Easton and force me to stay with him so they can keep their dignity … and their lives. They’d barter me in exchange for more wealth if they had to. My father’s done it before, and I don’t doubt he raised my brother the same way. I don’t even know why I care that Easton would kill them. After all, they gave me away in a heartbeat.

Still, none of that changes my current situation.

Sighing, I look out onto the streets at the people living normal lives like normal people do. I can’t blend in wearing these clothes with these shoes and with my experience. I’ll never fit in.

If these people knew who I was married to, they’d drag me back there for a hefty reward. And this ring on my finger gives everything away.

I peel it off like dead weight and cast it away from me. The ring tumbles through a drain in the middle of the street and clatters into the sewers. Good fucking riddance.

But what do I do now? How do I survive on my own? If I can’t go to my family, where do I go? Who do I turn to in this country where I don’t know a soul? I’ve got no one here in the Netherlands—no one except Easton Van Buren—and I’m never going back to him. I’d rather sit here all by myself in this alley.

My clothes begin to itch, and I realize then that I’m still carrying the notebook in my underwear. I fish it out and readjust my clothes while I stare at it. All this trouble just because of this notebook.

I flip through the pages, but the words don’t read like my own. They read like they were written by a teenager, a girl with no clue about the real world. God, I was so gullible.

I chuck it into a trash bin up ahead where it belongs. I should’ve done that before I went to the store with Jill instead of holding onto it just because it was mine.

At least now Easton won’t be able to use my thoughts and ideas against me.

As I gaze up, the sky opens up, and rain starts to pour down. “Oh, great …”

Not only am I lost in an unfamiliar country without a place to stay and without any access to money, but now my clothes will get wet too. I shake off the drops as they fall, but the more I move, the more soaked my dress gets until it sticks to my skin like glue.

I should replace someplace to stay. Maybe a hotel will be generous and let me stay the night. At least then I can take a warm shower and maybe grab some fresh clothes from someone. Something that looks a little less ridiculous and over the top.

I should at least give it a try, so I take a deep breath and get up. Walking out of that alley in soaked clothes puts a damper on my spirit, but I can handle this. It’s only rain. I’m not stuck in that house anymore like some pet on a leash. I can go wherever I want and do whatever I want.

First thing’s first … replace a hotel that’ll let me in for the night.

Despite the stares, I do my best to fit into the crowd as I walk around the city and enter the first hotel I can replace. However, from the moment I step inside, I get nasty looks. It doesn’t help that the first few I come across are four-star hotels.

The first hotel that doesn’t bounce me immediately is the fifth in the line of hotels I’ve visited, but I guess five’s a charm. I keep a smile on my face at all times as I approach the front desk.

“Hi,” I say, assuming he speaks English. “Can I get a room, please?”

“Of course, ma’am,” the man behind the desk says. “What kind of room are you looking for?”

“Any is fine. Whatever you can give me.”

He narrows his eyes and places a form in front of me. “We accept credit cards only.”

My lips part as I stare at him while he looks at my soggy dress with furrowed brows. We’re both searching for the non-existent pockets because I have no bag, and there’s no way I could carry a credit card like this. And he’s right. I have nothing to pay him with except gratitude.

“I … I don’t have any,” I say with a weak voice.

He makes a face. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I wish we could take cash, but—”

“I don’t have that either,” I interrupt, and I lean over the counter. “But I will pay it back. I promise.” I bite my lip and stare at him with big eyes, hoping to appeal to his noble side.

“I’m sorry, but we—”

“Please, I have nowhere else to stay. Don’t you have a tiny room? Just a single bed and shower, nothing else? I’ll take anything you can give me.”

I’ve never begged or groveled in my life, but today I will. Though it’s embarrassing, and I can feel the eyeballs of other guests on my back, I will not give in to shame.

“Ma’am, we can’t.” He slides his hand back as if he’s afraid I’ll touch him. “If you cannot pay for your stay, please replace a different accommodation.”

“Please …” I beg, tears welling up in my eyes. “I don’t know this city or any of the people. I can’t go home either.”

Someone else behind me clears her throat, and the man in front of the desk suddenly seems in a hurry. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t help you.” He waves at the other customer and turns his head away from me. “Hello, may I help you?”

“Please …” I mutter, but he completely ignores me.

I close my eyes and take a short breath before turning around and walking out of the building, forcing the tears to stay at bay. I will replace a hotel. There must be someone who’ll take me in for the night.

Continuing my search, I try one hotel after the next. Even the bed and breakfasts all show me the door. Not even offering some work like washing the dishes or cleaning the rooms convinces them to offer me a place to stay. And after walking all over the city to about sixty plus different establishments with blistering feet stuck in sky-high heels, I’m about to break.

By the time I’ve given up, it’s already past nighttime. Barely anyone is left on the street, and half of those are probably dangerous. I’m too afraid to talk to anyone and ask for help. Everyone seems suspicious even though that might only be my terrified brain talking. Someone who grew up distrusting the world doesn’t easily shake that feeling.

I resent the person I’ve become thanks to my family, but I can’t easily overcome my fears either, so there’s nothing left to do but move on.

But I have no energy left to fight with, no more strength in my legs to walk another step. I succumb to the very first empty-looking shack I can replace; a long-abandoned basement dwelling beneath one of the city’s many bridges.

I open the busted, creaky door and make my way into a small room to replace an old, metallic bed with a stained mattress on top. It looks like a crack house, a place where fellow drug addicts gather to shoot up, but it’s the only place I can go when no one else will take me in. The only place no one will ask questions about who I am and where I came from or judge me for who I am.

But I’m the only one here for now, so I lie there on that filthy mattress and stare at the graffiti-covered walls until the tears begin to roll. And they don’t stop … not for several hours.

A sudden cough wakes me up from a nightmare-fueled sleep. My eyes pop open from the sound, and I immediately sit up in bed the moment a face appears in front of me.

“Hey, man,” he says in a weird, nasally way. “Gaat het?”

My head is woozy, and everything’s so blurry. What’s going on?

“Zal ik een ambulance bellen, of zo?” the guy says.

“Wha-what?” I mumble. Shit, I realize he’s trying to speak Dutch to me. “Ah, sorry, I don’t speak—”

“Oh, an American … Nice,” he says, with an exaggerated voice. He sits down on the bed, so I pull up my legs and wrap my arms around them. “Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”

I look around for a second, trying to get my bearings in the middle of the night. “No, no, I’m fine,” I mumble.

There’s a ton of smoke in the room, and I almost jump up and sprint out of the room. But then my eyes catch sight of the cause … a pipe filled with marijuana.

No wonder I’m so dizzy. He’s been smoking in here … and for how long?

“Want some?” He picks up the bong and holds it out to me.

I make a face and hold my breath to keep from smelling the stench. “No, thanks,” I say. I hate drugs. Always have.

“Don’t say I didn’t offer,” he says with a laugh, and then he takes a whiff.

I get off the bed and pat myself down. I must’ve been beyond exhausted for me to be able to crash in a place like this. Geez.

“Whoa … nice dress. Where’d you get it?” he asks, eyeing me up.

“Um, none of your business,” I reply.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude,” he says. “You sure you don’t want some?” He holds it up again. “Might relax you a little.”

“No, thanks. I have to go,” I say, and I hurry out the door.

Coming here was a mistake. It’s dangerous, not to mention unhealthy. I’m covered in germs and dirt and God knows what else, considering what usually goes on in a place like that. I should be happy there was only one druggie in there, and that he wasn’t doing any of the hard stuff. There was a tiny plastic bag filled with white powder sitting on the table, though, and I don’t even wanna know what was inside that. Shit … I should be more careful.

I tiptoe up the stairs, still wearing my high heels. I could try to take them off, but I’m not sure walking barefoot would be any better than this. However, my feet are killing me, and I barely had a few hours of rest. But I have no place to go … except maybe the park.

Would that be safe at this hour of the night?

The wind brushes past my arms, making me shiver. It’s far colder outside than it was in that house. Even though it had no electricity, at least you could shut the doors and block out the wind. Now I’m outside in a cold country where the days consist of more rain than sun.

Right then, raindrops fall onto my naked shoulders, and I stop and hold up my hands. More drops follow, and the streets soon fill with rain. Again.

I sigh out loud, and my shoulders slump at the thought of spending the night outside in the cold. This is far from what I expected freedom to be like once I got out. Far from what I was used to when I still had it.

But going back to those days is impossible. They’re long gone, along with the rest of my faith in humanity.

Through the rain, I walk for miles and miles until nothing remains but city streetlights and the occasional passerby on his way home. I pass a few shops along the way, and one of the windowsills filled with beautifully decorated cakes and appetizing pastries in a bakery makes my mouth water. I contemplate breaking and entering, but that would be wrong. I have no right to steal from people, not even for my growling stomach.

I avert my eyes and focus on what I can do to make things better as my growling stomach demands every iota of my attention. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, but I can last a little longer. The question is, how long?

It’s the middle of the night. Everyone’s busy with their own things or sleeping, so there’s no use even thinking about it. I’d better continue walking. The only place I have left to go to is the park. Maybe I’ll be able to replace a bench there where I can rest. Anything would be good right now as long as I can get off my feet.

After checking a local sign with a map on it, I make my way to the nearest park and clutch the gates while I replace my way inside. Thick trees and bushes are everywhere with a few patches of grass scattered around a pond. Along the gravel path, I see several benches a few steps apart, and I collapse on the first empty one in sight.

No one else is here except a few doves and the occasional druggie. But none of that fazes me anymore. I’m far too tired to move on to someplace else … too tired to care.