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Chapter 10

Therese tried to erase Vermont Octavian from her mind.

She tried to convince herself that what happened at her mother's house was nothing more than an uncomfortable encounter with

someone from a distant part of her past.

But forgetting him proved harder than she had expected.

Every morning after bathing, when she caught sight of the faint reddish mark near her neck—already beginning to fade but still

visible enough to remind her of that unsettling moment—she would instinctively touch it.

And tremble.

She hated that her own reflection could bring back the memory so easily.

The way Vermont had looked at her.

The things he had said.

The unsettling certainty in his presence.

For twenty years, Therese had held on to the memory of the boy she once knew—the boy who had been gentle with her, respectful of

her boundaries, and careful with the promise he had made to her father.

She wanted to believe that the man he had become still carried some part of that boy within him.

Perhaps that was why she refused to believe the worst of him.

Vermont was wealthy now. Powerful. A man whose name appeared in business papers and whose life seemed impossibly distant

from the young boy she had once loved.

But wealth did not automatically make someone cruel.

And neither did a painful past erase every good thing a person had once been.

She hoped he was still a good man.

She desperately wanted to believe that.

Yet something about their recent encounter had unsettled her.

She couldn't explain why.

There had been something in his eyes that she couldn't reconcile with the Vermont she remembered.

Every night, Therese knelt beside her bed and prayed.

Not for Vermont.

Not exactly.

She prayed for peace.

Lord, please don't let our paths cross again.

It became part of her nightly prayers.

She didn't want another encounter.

She didn't want to reopen twenty years of memories.

She didn't want to discover that the person she had remembered so fondly no longer existed.

But if their paths crossed again—if their meeting was truly inevitable—then she knew she couldn't keep avoiding him.

She would face him.

She would ask him why he had returned.

She would listen to whatever he had to say.

And if there were issues between them that had remained unresolved for twenty years, she would settle them with courage and

honesty.

She would not allow fear to dictate her life.

Still, beneath all those resolutions was a simple hope.

She hoped Vermont had not completely changed.

She hoped the man she remembered was still somewhere inside him.

She hoped he was still good.

And she prayed that, somehow, heaven would guide both of them toward peace.

For now, however, Therese had decided to leave Vermont in the past.

Her short stay at her mother's house had given her enough time to think about the investigation at the nunnery and what might

happen afterward.

Perhaps she would be removed from the Church.

Perhaps she would be allowed to return.

She had no way of knowing.

And finally, Therese had accepted that she could not control the outcome.

If heaven was leading her somewhere else, then she would follow.

She would focus on the place that still needed her.

Safe Haven.

Morning settled gently over Safe Haven Elderly Care Facility.

The garden was already alive.

A few of the elderly residents were gathered around the rows of flowering plants, watering them carefully with small plastic

containers. Some were chatting while they worked, while others simply enjoyed the cool morning air.

Therese stood among them, holding a watering can of her own.

"Careful, Lady Therese," one of the elderly women teased. "You're giving that plant more water than it needs."

Therese smiled.

"Maybe it's thirsty."

"Or maybe you're spoiling it."

The women laughed.

Therese felt something close to peace.

"I've decided that while I'm waiting for the decision, I'll focus on Safe Haven," she said. "This place needs me. And perhaps

this is where I am supposed to be for now."

The elderly woman beside her looked at her.

"Are you saying you're leaving us?"

Therese immediately smiled.

"No. Not at all."

"Good."

The woman pointed accusingly at her with the watering can.

"Because we're not letting you escape."

Therese laughed softly.

"I don't know what heaven has planned for me. But whatever happens with the nunnery, I will accept it."

She looked across the garden.

"These people still need care. So while I wait for heaven to show me the next step, this is where I want to be."

The words felt strangely comforting when she said them aloud.

Perhaps she didn't need to know what tomorrow held.

Perhaps she only needed to be faithful with today.

A sudden rumbling interrupted their conversation.

Everyone turned toward the entrance.

A large delivery van was slowly making its way through the gate.

The elderly residents stopped watering the plants.

"What is that?" one of them asked.

Therese lowered her watering can.

"I don't know."

The vehicle came to a stop near the main building.

Therese walked closer, her eyes narrowing as she examined the markings on the side.

It was clearly a freight company.

Her brow furrowed.

She wasn't expecting any deliveries.

The driver's door opened.

A man climbed down and walked toward them, carrying a clipboard and a delivery receipt.

"Good morning," he called.

"Good morning," Therese replied cautiously.

He looked around before checking the address on his paper.

"Is this Safe Haven Facility?"

"Yes."

He looked back at the receipt.

"I'm looking for a nun named Therese Marshal."

Therese hesitated.

"That's me."

The man smiled politely and extended the clipboard.

"Then I need your signature, Sister."

Therese stared at the document.

"What is this?"

"A delivery."

She looked at him.

"A delivery?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Therese shook her head.

"But I didn't order anything."

The delivery man chuckled.

"It's not an online order."

"Then what is it?"

"A package from overseas."

Her expression became even more puzzled.

"Overseas?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't expecting a package."

The man glanced at the receipt again.

"It says here that it's a donation. Medicine, general goods, and hygiene products."

The elderly residents immediately began whispering among themselves.

"A donation?"

"Maybe someone sent it to the facility."

"But who?"

Therese didn't know.

She looked at the van.

There were several men already preparing to unload the boxes.

"Who sent it?"

The delivery man turned the receipt toward her.

"It's listed here."

Therese looked at the document but couldn't immediately make sense of the information.

She hesitated.

Something about the whole thing felt unusual.

Still, the items listed were things Safe Haven genuinely needed.

Medicine.

Hygiene products.

Basic supplies.

The facility constantly depended on donations to keep operating.

Perhaps someone had simply chosen to remain anonymous.

Finally, Therese signed.

The men began unloading the packages.

One box after another was carried inside.

The elderly residents watched with growing excitement.

"That's a lot," one of them said.

"It certainly is," Therese murmured.

Within minutes, the delivery had been completed.

The men climbed back into the van.

The driver handed Therese her copy of the receipt.

"Thank you, Sister."

"Thank you."

The van pulled away, disappearing through the gates.

Therese remained standing there.

She looked down at the receipt in her hands.

Something still bothered her.

She read the sender's information carefully.

Then she stopped.

Her eyes narrowed.

The name was clearly printed on the document.

Sender: Alex Forel.

Therese frowned.

"Alex Forel?"

One of the elderly women looked over her shoulder.

"Who is he?"

Therese shook her head slowly.

"I don't know."

She stared at the name again.

Someone had just sent a large donation from overseas to Safe Haven.

And whoever Alex Forel was, he apparently knew exactly where to send it.

Therese folded the receipt.

Her uneasiness returned.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

She had no idea that the answer to that question would lead her straight back to the man she had been trying not to think about.

Vermont Octavian.

Therese opened the first box herself.

Inside were neatly packed medicines, sealed hygiene products, canned goods, and other supplies the facility desperately needed. The

elderly residents gathered around, curious and excited, while the new cleaner helped move the smaller boxes toward the storage

room.

Therese reached for another box.

As she lifted a bundle of medicine, a folded piece of paper slipped from between the packages and landed on the floor.

She bent down and picked it up.

At first, she thought it might be an inventory list.

She unfolded it.

Then she read the first line.

Her entire body went still.

To the most beautiful...

Her eyes moved to the signature at the bottom.

Vermont.

Therese's fingers tightened around the paper.

Her hand began to tremble.

For a moment, the sounds around her seemed to disappear.

The elderly residents continued talking, unaware of what she had just discovered.

But one of them noticed the sudden change in her expression.

"Are you okay, Lady Therese?"

Therese looked up.

She forced her lips into a smile.

"Yes. I'm fine."

The elderly woman studied her face.

Therese nodded again, hoping the gesture would make the lie convincing.

"I'm just surprised by how much was sent."

She took a slow breath.

Then another.

Her eyes returned to the paper.

Vermont.

Even here.

Even after she had prayed for distance.

Even after she had convinced herself that she could leave him in the past.

He had found a way to reach her.

Therese slowly closed her fingers around the note until the paper crumpled inside her palm.

Her voice was barely audible.

"Vermont... you are really trying to drag me to hell."

She immediately regretted the words.

Not because she didn't mean them.

But because some part of her still couldn't understand why he was doing this.

Was this an apology?

A gesture of kindness?

Or another attempt to force himself into her life?

She didn't know.

And she refused to find out.

Therese looked toward the new cleaner, who was helping organize the remaining boxes.

"Please close all the opened packages."

The young woman looked surprised.

"All of them, Sister?"

"Yes. Close everything and wrap them again."

"But we're still sorting the supplies."

"We'll do that later."

There was something firm in Therese's voice that made the cleaner immediately nod.

"Yes, Sister."

The elderly residents exchanged puzzled glances.

One of them finally asked,

"But why, Lady Therese? These supplies are useful."

Therese folded the crumpled note and slipped it into her pocket.

She forced another smile.

"I know. And I'm grateful for them. But we already have enough supplies for now."

She glanced toward the boxes.

"I'll keep everything inside my office until we can properly inventory them."

The explanation seemed reasonable enough.

The elderly residents slowly returned to their activities.

But Therese remained beside the boxes.

Her expression hardened.

She knew the truth.

She didn't want these things.

Not because Safe Haven didn't need them.

They did.

Desperately.

But accepting them meant accepting another thread connecting her to Vermont.

And she didn't want that man weaving himself into every corner of her life.

She wanted to send everything back.

Every box.

Every donation.

Every reminder of him.

She wanted Vermont to understand that money could not buy his way back into her world.

Therese looked down at her closed hand.

The crumpled paper was still inside it.

You don't get to rule my world, Vermont.

She swallowed hard.

Night fell over Safe Haven.

The lively sounds of the day had disappeared. The elderly residents were already asleep, and the corridors of the facility had grown

quiet.

Only a few lights remained on.

Outside the main building, beneath the shadow of the trees, a figure quietly stepped away from the facility.

She looked back toward the building before continuing farther into the darkness.

The woman stopped near the far side of the property.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a phone.

The screen illuminated her face for only a moment.

Then it began to ring.

She answered immediately.

"Yes, sir."

A man's voice came through the line.

Calm.

Deep.

Familiar.

"Did you receive the package?"

She glanced toward the building.

"Yes, sir."

There was a brief silence.

Then the man asked,

"Is Therese the one who received it?"

"Yes, sir."

A faint satisfaction entered the man's voice.

"Good."

The woman lowered her voice.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Keep an eye on her."

She listened carefully.

"Report to me every night at nine. I want to know what she's been doing throughout the day. Where she goes. Who she talks

to. Anyone who visits her."

"Yes, sir."

The woman looked toward the darkened windows of the facility.

"I'll report everything."

"See that you do."

A pause followed.

Then the man continued.

"Tomorrow, I will send something else to you."

The woman straightened.

"What is it, sir?"

"Spy cameras."

She immediately glanced around, making sure nobody had followed her outside.

"Cameras?"

"I want them placed discreetly inside Therese's office and her room."

The woman swallowed.

"Her room too?"

"Yes."

His voice became firmer.

"I want to see her."

The woman hesitated.

"I'll try to sneak them in, sir."

"That's good."

There was another pause.

Then his voice softened.

"You'll receive a bonus when you're done."

The woman's expression changed immediately.

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't disappoint me."

The call ended.

The woman lowered the phone.

For several seconds, she simply stood there in the darkness.