Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 894

The yacht sliced through the water, leaving a sharp white trail as it raced toward the closest beach. It hadn’t even come to a full stop before Emmy was on her feet, unsteady but determined. She turned, jumped straight into the shallow surf, and let the icy seawater wash over her wound. The pain should have been unbearable, but she barely noticed it.

Without looking back, Emmy hurried up the sand, blending in with a crowd gathered around a bonfire. Laughter and music masked her escape.

Back on the deck, Dean watched from above, a tablet in his hand. On the screen, a red dot darted across a map, weaving right into the thick of the party. His eyes were cold, and his lips curled in a cruel, almost mocking smile.

Run all you want. As long as he was alive, she’d never really get away.

Emmy didn’t stop until she reached a noisy alley, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She ducked into a small electronics repair shop, pushing aside the curtain.

“I need to rent a laptop. Just for ten minutes,” she said, not bothering with pleasantries.

Once she had the laptop, she slipped into a shadowy corner outside the shop and got to work. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, code streaming across the screen. She was searching for any signal that could be used to track her.

How did Dean always find her? No matter what she wore or where she went, even if she left everything behind, he always knew exactly where she was.

Suddenly, a red warning box blinked onto the screen. Emmy’s stomach dropped.

A tracker.

She’d checked everything. Her clothes were bought off a street vendor, her shoes were secondhand, her bag only held a dagger. There was nowhere to hide a tracker.

Unless...

Pain exploded through her arm. Sweat broke out across her forehead, but her hand stayed steady. She worked the blade bit by bit, slicing into her skin, forcing herself to keep going. Finally, she pried out a tiny white chip, no bigger than a sesame seed, sticky with blood and clinging to the knife’s tip.

Emmy sucked in a shaky breath, her body slick with cold sweat. She stared at the little tracker, letting out a bitter laugh.

“You want to catch me?” Her voice was low and fierce. “Keep dreaming.”

Just then, a young guy with a backpack stepped out of the shop. Emmy moved fast. She wrapped the chip in a tissue and, as he walked by, slipped it into the mesh pocket on the side of his backpack without anyone noticing.

Only then did the burning pain in her arm really hit her. She returned the laptop, then found a pharmacy and bought the cheapest disinfectant and some bandages. She patched herself up as best she could, then headed straight for the docks. She bought a ticket for the next boat off the island and vanished into the night.