Chapter 4 - Thank You

The rain was relentless, pounding against my skin like tiny needles as I dragged my waterlogged suitcase down the street.

My clothes clung to me, a second skin soaked with rain, tears, and the lingering stickiness of champagne that Lisa had poured over me. Each step felt heavier than the last, my mind still reeling from how quickly my life had imploded.

Three hours ago, I'd been sketching in the park, worrying about my husband's emotional distance.

Now I was homeless , jobless, and completely alone.

Night was falling, turning the dreary afternoon into something more sinister. Streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for me. I needed shelter, somewhere to gather my thoughts and figure out what to do next.

The community shelter on Maple Street was my first hope.

I'd volunteered there during college, serving meals and sorting donations. Surely they would help me.

"I'm sorry Angelina." Mrs Peterson said, her weathered face pinched with genuine regret. "We're over capacity with the storm. Fire marshal would shut us down if we took in anyone else tonight."

I nodded, trying to hide my desperation. "I understand. Thank you anyway."

"Do you have any friends you can call? Family?"

I attempted a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "I'm working on it."

The truth was, I had no one. George had slowly isolated me over our relationship, dismissing my college friends as ' immature' and 'beneath us' once his business took off. My father was dead, my mother too. The only 'family' I had were the people who had just thrown me out with mockery and champagne.

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

I had exactly forty seven dollars in my purse, all the cash I had in the world.

George had insisted I didn't need my own bank account, everything went into our joint account, which I was certain he'd already emptied.

The rain had eased slightly, but my suitcase was another story. The cheap fabric was coming apart at the seams, threatening to spill my meager possessions onto the wet sidewalk.

I needed somewhere dry to regroup.

I spotted the lights of La Maison, an upscale French restaurant that George had taken me to once, early in our courtship. The prices had made me uncomfortable, but George had insisted on ordering the most expensive items on the menu.

'Get used to it Angelina' he had said to me 'this is our life now'

What a joke that had turned out to be.

I approached the restaurant hesitantly.

I wouldn't eat there, couldn't afford it, but maybe they'd let me sit in the lobby for a little while, just to get out of the rain. I must have looked a pathetic sight, dripping wet with mascara streaked down my face, dragging a disintegrating suitcase.

The host's face soured the moment I stepped inside, leaving puddles on the polished marble floor.

"Can I help you?" His tone suggested he'd rather not.

"I'm so sorry to bother you.." I said, my voice small. "I was wondering if I could just sit in your waiting area for a little while? Just until the rain lets up."

His gaze traveled from my drenched hair to my ruined shoes. "This is an exclusive establishment, madam. The waiting area is for customers only."

"Please," I whispered. "Just for a few minutes. I won't disturb anyone."

"I'm afraid I must insist you leave." He gestured toward the door. "You're creating a hazard with all this water."

Humiliation burned through me. I was being thrown out for the second time today.

"Is there a problem Charles?"

The voice was deep, authoritative, coming from behind me. I turned to see a man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit. Tall, with sharp features and striking green eyes that assessed me with clinical detachment.

"No problem Mr Salvatore," the host responded, his demeanor instantly shifting to deferential. "Just explaining to this...person... that our waiting area is for patrons only."

Mr Salvatore's gaze remained fixed on me, his expression unreadable. "Is that your policy now? Turning away drenched women during storms?"

Charles fidgeted uncomfortably. "Sir, she's soaking wet, and — "

"And clearly in need of assistance." His voice was flat, emotionless, but left no room for argument. "A cup of hot tea in the private dining room. Now."

Charles hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Right away Mr. Salvatore."

I found my voice, small though it was and looked up at his tall frame. "I can't afford to eat here. I just needed somewhere to sit for a moment."

Those intense green eyes studied me again. "I didn't offer you a meal. I offered you tea and a temporary reprieve from the rain. Unless you'd prefer to continue your evening outdoors?"

"No— I mean, thank you." I clutched my suitcase closer, suddenly aware of how I must appear to this immaculately dressed stranger. "I'm sorry about the floor."

A muscle in his jaw tightened. "Follow me."