تسجيل الدخولI stared at my phone..The words blurred. Then sharpened. Then blurred again.It's your father, Lucy. He's the one pulling the strings.My father. The man who'd abandoned me when I was fourteen. The man who'd disappeared without a trace. The man I'd spent years pretending didn't exist.He was alive. He was here. And he'd been working with Vincent this whole time.I felt the world tilt."Lucy?" Sloane's voice came from somewhere far away. "Lucy, what's wrong? You've gone pale."I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything except stare at the screen.Sloane took the phone from my hands. Read the message. Her face went white."Oh my God."I finally found my voice. "He's alive.""Lucy—""He's alive. He's been alive this whole time. And he's been working with Vincent."Sloane grabbed my shoulders. "Lucy. Look at me."I looked at her."We're going to figure this out. Together." Her voice was steady. "But first, you need to breathe."I tried. I really tried.But all I could think
Sloane didn't cry.That was the scariest part.She sat on my couch, her hands wrapped around a cold cup of tea, her face perfectly still. No tears. No shaking. Just emptiness."He's been lying to me the whole time," she said. "The whole time, Lucy."I sat beside her. "I know.""I thought he was different. I thought—" She stopped. "I thought he actually cared about me.""He's a good actor.""He's a monster." She looked at me. "Just like Vincent."I reached for her hand. "We're going to figure this out.""How?""I don't know yet. But we're going to figure it out."I called Mason that night. Not because I wanted to. Because I needed to.He answered on the first ring."Lucy? Is everything okay?""Sloane's boyfriend. He's connected to Vincent."Silence."Mason?""I'm on my way."He arrived in twenty minutes. He looked at Sloane. At me. At the cold tea on the table."Tell me everything," he said.Sloane told him. About Jason. About the lies. About the information he'd been feeding to Vincen
The new apartment was small.Bare walls. A couch that had seen better days. A kitchen with exactly one working burner.But it was mine.I'd found it three weeks after coming back to the city. A tiny studio on the fourth floor of a walk-up building. No elevator. No dishwasher. No laundry in the building.But the windows faced east, and the morning light flooded through them. And the landlord didn't ask questions when I paid in cash.It was the first place I'd ever had that was completely my own.No Sloane. No Mason. No Katherine. Just me.I spent the first week settling in. Hanging curtains that were too long. Assembling furniture that came with missing parts. Learning to cook on a stove that had a mind of its own.I loved every second of it.Sloane came over on Saturday.She walked through the door and stopped. "This is... cozy.""It's small. It's tiny and It's mine."She looked at me. Then she smiled. "You're happy here.""I am.""I can see it." She sat on the couch. "It looks good o
I'd moved away from all the drama. At least find myself and not pine over a man I wasn't sure was mine yet. I'd been avoiding Mason. Well, not avoiding exactly. I just hadn't called. Hadn't texted. Hadn't shown up at his doorstep like the old Lucy would have.The old Lucy had been desperate. The old Lucy had been waiting. The old Lucy had been pathetic.I wasn't that girl anymore.London had changed me. Katherine had changed me. The box of my mother's letters had changed me. I'd spent months learning who I was without Mason Chen hovering in the background of my life.Turns out, I was pretty interesting without him.I had friends now. Real friends. People who didn't know me as "Sloane's charity case" or "the pool house girl." People who knew me as Lucy. The one who made terrible jokes. The one who could quote entire chapters of Jane Austen. The one who was writing a novel she'd never let anyone read.I had plans. I had goals. I had a life.And then I saw the billboard.The same one I'd
The trial began on a Monday.I woke up before dawn. My stomach was in knots. My hands were shaking.Sloane was already in the kitchen. Coffee. Toast. She didn't say much. She just handed me a mug and sat beside me."You're going to be fine," she said."I know.""You're going to be great.""I know."She reached for my hand."I'm proud of you, Lucy. No matter what happens."I squeezed her hand."Thank you."Mason picked us up at eight.He was dressed in a dark suit. His jaw was tight. He looked like he hadn't slept."You ready?" he asked."No.""Good. Neither am I."He drove in silence.***The courthouse was cold when we arrived. I sat in the hallway, waiting. My name was called. I stood up.Sloane squeezed my hand. Mason touched my arm."Remember," he said. "You're not alone."I nodded and walked into the courtroom.Vincent was there.Sitting at the defendant's table. Dressed in a suit. His eyes found me immediately. He smiled.I felt sick. But I didn't look away.The prosecutor asked
Chapter 29The next few weeks were normal.As normal as they could be, anyway.Mason took me on dates. Real dates. Dinner at quiet restaurants. Walks through the park. Movie nights on his couch where we didn't even watch the movie.He was patient. He didn't push. He let me set the pace.I was grateful for that.But I was also scared.The nightmares started again.Not every night. Just sometimes. I'd wake up gasping, heart pounding, the image of the car still fresh in my mind.Sloane noticed the dark circles under my eyes."Are you sleeping?" she asked one morning."Not really.""Nightmares?""Yeah."She didn't push. She just handed me a cup of tea and sat beside me.Mason noticed too.We were at his house one evening. Sitting on the couch. His arm around me. I was trying to relax. Trying to feel safe.But I couldn't."Lucy." His voice was soft. "What's wrong?""Nothing.""You're shaking."I looked down at my hands. They were trembling."I'm fine," I said."You're not."He turned to fa
The letter arrived three days later.Not by mail. It was slipped under my apartment door while I was at work. I found it when I got home, a plain white envelope with my name written on it in black ink.My hands were shaking before I even opened it.Inside was a single sheet of paper. No salutation.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his voice. If I don't get away from her soon, I'm going to ruin everything. Her. Me. He was talking about me. I replayed the conversation a hundred times. I've spent ten years watching her. She looks at me like I'm furniture. Mason Chen had been watching me. F
Mason's Mercedes pulled up forty-five minutes later. I knew it was his before I even looked up. I'd spent my entire adolescence listening for it, heart hammering every time Sloane mentioned he was coming home from the city for the weekend. Tonight, my heart hammered for a different reason. The c
“Fuck!”I hoisted my tote bag higher onto my shoulder and broke into a jog, my sneakers slapping against the sidewalk. Four o'clock. My landlady, Mrs. Harlow, had been very clear on the phone this morning. Cash, Lucy. I don't care about your bank's "technical difficulties." You show up with my mone







