LOGINThe 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
Chapter 28I spent the night at Sloane's apartment. She gave me her bed and took the couch."You sure?" she asked."Positive."She didn't argue. She just squeezed my hand and told me to sleep.I didn't.I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment with Mason. The way he'd looked at me. The way his voice had cracked. The way he'd said he'd been waiting.But I also remembered the pain. The billboard. Vanessa. The way he'd pushed me away.I didn't know what to believe.The next morning, Sloane made coffee."So," she said. "How are you feeling?""Confused.""That's fair."I wrapped my hands around the mug. "He said he's changed. He said he's been waiting. But I don't—" I stopped. "I don't remember loving him. I remember wanting him. I remember being obsessed with him. But I don't remember the good parts."Sloane nodded slowly."Maybe that's a good thing," she said."How is that a good thing?""Because you get to start fresh." She met my eyes. "You get to decide who he
I arrived back in the city on a Tuesday.The plane landed. I stepped off. And for the first time in months, I felt something other than emptiness.Nerves. Anticipation. Fear.I took a cab to Sloane's apartment. She didn't know I was coming. I wanted to surprise her.The door opened. Sloane stared at me like she'd seen a ghost."Lucy?""Hi."She pulled me into a hug so tight I couldn't breathe."You're back," she whispered. "You're really back.""I'm back."We sat on her couch for hours.She told me everything. About Mason. About the search. About how he'd fallen apart when I left."He hasn't been the same," she said. "No more blondes. No more parties. Just work and waiting.""Waiting for what?""For you." She met my eyes. "He's been waiting for you, Lucy. He never stopped."I was quiet for a moment."I don't remember him," I said. "Not the good parts. I remember the pain. The betrayal. The billboard." I paused. "But I don't remember loving him."Sloane nodded slowly."Then maybe it's
Weeks passed.Slowly. Painfully. One day at a time.Katherine's house was old and warm. Full of creaky floors and soft light. There were plants everywhere. Books on every surface. A garden in the back that bloomed with flowers I couldn't name.I spent most of my time by the window.Watching. Waiting. Remembering.The memories came back in fragments. Not all at once. Just pieces. A flash of a face. A whisper of a voice. A feeling I couldn't name.I remembered pain. I remembered betrayal. I remembered a billboard and a woman named Vanessa.But I didn't remember the good parts. The parts that made my chest ache. The parts that made me want to go back.I didn't even know what I was missing."I'm going to start getting out more," I told Katherine one morning.She looked up from her tea. "That's wonderful, love.""I want to see London. The real London. Not just your garden."She smiled. "I know just the place."She took me to a small bookstore in Notting Hill.It was cramped. Chaotic. Perfe
The first thing I noticed was the beeping. Steady. Rhythmic. Somewhere above my head.The second thing I noticed was the pain. Dull. Throbbing. Everywhere. The third thing I noticed was the woman.She was sitting beside my bed. Older. Maybe late fifties. Dark hair streaked with grey. Kind eyes. She looked familiar. Like someone I'd seen before but couldn't place.Then I realized.She looked like my mother."Lucy." Her voice was soft. Warm. She reached out and brushed the hair from my forehead. "You're awake. Thank God."I blinked. Said nothing."Lucy?" She leaned closer. "Can you hear me?"I heard her. I saw her. But I couldn't respond. Couldn't move. Couldn't speak.I just lay there. Watching. Listening. Feeling nothing.The doctor came.He checked my vitals. Shone lights in my eyes. Asked me questions."Lucy, can you tell me your name?"I said nothing."Can you tell me where you are?"I said nothing."Can you tell me what year it is?"Nothing.The doctor stepped back. He spoke to Ka
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







