Chapter 3

The next day, Charlotte, who had been so confident and self-assured before, waited in vain for any response from me. I had been hovering outside her office window since dawn, watching her tap her phone impatiently for the third time as her expression darkened.

"Shane, how dare you ignore me..." She slammed her phone face down on the desk, her chest heaving. "So you finally grew a backbone, huh?"

Charlotte thought that withholding our daughter's child support money would make me cave like before and that I'd show up obediently. But now, every threat she sent went unanswered.

By afternoon, she couldn't sit still anymore. She grabbed her car keys and rushed out.

I followed her as she drove all the way to the north side of town, to the place that had once been our home. Since we separated and I moved out alone with my daughter, I hadn't returned.

Charlotte parked the car and stared at the familiar villa, her expression somewhat distant. The roses in the garden had long since died, leaving only a few stubborn weeds leaning in the dirt. Even the swing was rusted, creaking softly in the wind.

She stood there for a long time before using the spare key to unlock the door. A cloud of dust greeted her as she opened it.

The living room was exactly as we'd left it, only covered in a thin layer of dust. My old grey sweater was still tossed over the back of the couch. Our daughter's cartoon character cup from when she was little sat on the dining table.

Charlotte walked in slowly, her fingers unconsciously tracing a line through the dust on a side table. Her gaze settled on a framed photo on the wall. In it, she was smiling faintly, while I looked at her as if she were the only light in the room.

She quickly looked away, as if the image burned her eyes. But everywhere she looked, she found traces of the life we'd built together—the book I'd never finished, my everyday glasses, the art on the walls, and the custom tea set I'd commissioned just for her.

I had put every piece there for her.

Charlotte walked over to the crib and picked up an old, worn rabbit plush I'd given her years ago. She stared at it for a long time, then her eyes welled up with tears.

As if coming out of a daze, she set it down abruptly and went downstairs. She sat down on the living room couch and dialed my number again.

The phone rang for a long time before disconnecting automatically. Undeterred, she tried again and again. Finally, clutching her scorching phone, she began to murmur softly into the unresponsive phone.

"Shane, I know you can hear me. Just come out and stop hiding." Charlotte paused for a beat. She lowered her voice, making it sharp and almost commanding.

"Answer the phone and… Apologize to me for what happened back then. Also, admit you blocked Leo from coming back to find me. Just say you were wrong.

"I'll forgive you. I won't even make you take the fall for him anymore. I'll find someone else… Just say you're sorry."

As she said that, her voice wavered and trembled with urgency. "Please… Just answer the phone."

I hovered before Charlotte, watching the tears in her eyes and her tightly pressed lips. It was absurd, almost laughable.

I'd never stopped Leo from coming back. He was the one who'd taken money from the Blakes and run off to enjoy himself, only coming back to find her after things went wrong.

So why should I apologize? Besides, how could someone who'd been dead for five years answer the phone? How was I supposed to do so? When no reply came, Charlotte's tone grew brittle with impatience.

"Shane Foster! This is your last chance. You—"

Before she could finish, the call disconnected since no one answered. She stared blankly at the dark screen, then suddenly raised her hand and smashed the nearby lamp to the floor.

"Fine. Have it your way. Let's see how long you can keep hiding."