Chapter 4

Lindsay clung to Neil, standing amid the tulip garden Arya had planted. The scene felt surreal, like a dream.

Arya let out a cold, bitter laugh. She watched Neil gently pull away from Lindsay, reach into his pocket, and hand her the lipstick Lindsay had accidentally left behind.

They exchanged a few quiet words. Then Lindsay stood on tiptoe and leaned in for a kiss.

That was the last straw. Disgusted, Arya turned away from the window and forced herself toward the closet.

The walk-in closet was massive. Her clothes hung neatly on one side—mostly simple, soft-toned dresses that radiated quiet grace.

Neil liked her in muted colors. Arya had never cared for them, but once Neil told her she looked beautiful in a white dress, she began dressing to match his preferences rather than her own.

How ridiculous she had been.

Arya pulled open a hidden compartment inside the wardrobe. Inside lay her ID card, passport, bank cards, two phones, and a thick folder.

The cover of the folder caught her eye: "University of Northallow." The words hit her like a slap.

She looked away quickly. The pain was too sharp to linger. That folder held everything she never sent. It was the one regret that haunted her all these years.

Arya took out one phone, unlocked it, and flipped to her contacts. 'Thank goodness... Everyone's still there.'

She tapped her best friend Diane Rae's name.

The moment the phone rang, Diane answered.

Her voice trembled with emotion and threatened to shout. "Ary? Is that you?! If you're not my precious Ary and you're that bastard Neil trying to disturb my sleep, I swear I'll post a full-on rant about you on social media! I've got 80 million followers! Don't think I won't use them!"

Arya laughed. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of warmth.

"It's me, Diane," she said.

Silence filled the line. Arya moved the phone away from her ear and counted silently, 'Three, two, one—'

"AHHH!" Diane's scream broke through. "Ary! My baby, my sweet baby girl! You're finally awake! I missed you so much! Are you still in the hospital or are you home? Just send me your location, and I'll launch myself into your arms right now!"

Arya ached to see Diane, but now wasn't the time.

"Diane, I can't see you just yet. But I need your help with two things," she said.

"Anything! Just say the word!" Diane growled. "You want me to hire someone to take out that dog Neil? I will! He let you lie in a coma for five years!"

That was a real best friend.

Arya smiled quietly and got to the point. "First, I need you to dig into someone for me. Her name is Lindsay Farrell. She's Neil's secretary. I want every detail."

"Oh, that woman?" Diane sneered. "She's been hanging around Neil at every public event these past few years. Dresses like some knock-off Mrs. Hammond every time. I never liked her!"

Arya was silent.

Lindsay had been her personal assistant. Neil had hired her when Arya was pregnant, saying he didn't want her to overexert herself. Now that she looked back, their relationship wasn't that simple.

"What's the second thing?" Diane asked.

Arya took a breath. "Tomorrow, I want you to hire a team of gardeners. Tell them to dig up all the tulips in the front yard. I want to replace them with my favorite flowers—"

"Yellow roses!" Diane interrupted without missing a beat.

Arya paused, surprised. "How did you know?"

She had loved yellow roses since childhood, but almost no one knew. Neil had said he preferred tulips, so she never mentioned roses again.

Diane had been her university roommate. How did she know?

Diane mumbled, "I didn't think he was telling the truth, but I guess he was. You really do like yellow roses."

"He?" Arya's heart skipped. "Who told you?"

The name Diane said next nearly made her drop the phone.

"Troy Pearce. He told me," Diane replied.

Arya froze, stunned.

How could she forget Troy Pearce? His stunning face, with a hint of wildness behind sharp features, was branded into her memory like an unhealing scar.

The last time she saw him was seven years ago at the airport. She had just gotten a call from Neil, right before boarding her flight.

At the last second, she had turned back, and Troy had been the only one who tried to stop her. He stood tall and rigid like a shadow against the sunset, his face half-illuminated by golden light, his dark eyes burning with icy fire.

Troy always seemed distant, aloof, above it all. She had never seen him lose composure. That day, however, his gaze had frozen her.

She had seen her own reflection in his eyes and still remembered his last words.

"Arya. Is it worth it?" he had asked, his thin lips pressed into a cold, sharp line.

She hadn't answered. With reckless certainty, she had brushed past him without a glance back.

She had her answer now.

Arya looked at her reflection in the mirror—pale, fragile, a ghost of her former self. She whispered, "No. It wasn't worth it. But Troy… this mistake is mine. And I'll be the one to clean it up."