Chapter 4
1147 Words
That evening.
The VIP lounge at Harbor City International Airport was freezing. The AC was cranked up high.
I sat by the window in a single armchair, my small suitcase at my feet. Outside, the sunset was painting the tails of the planes on the tarmac a dark red.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.
That was the seventeenth unknown call this afternoon. Ever since I'd trashed the flower shop and left, Liam's calls hadn't gone through. I'd blocked his number, and he'd started cycling through different numbers, calling obsessively.
I hit decline and added this number to the block list too.
"Miss Bennett."
A man in a dark gray suit with a family crest pin on his chest approached me and gave a slight nod. "The private flight has been cleared. Mr. Richard instructed that the reception team would be on standby around the clock. Whenever you're ready, we can take off."
I'd originally planned to take three days to sort out the transfer of the flower shop and wrap up my life here. But after what I'd heard about the cat and Old Street this afternoon, I didn't want to spend another second in this city full of lies. Three hours ago, right after I'd trashed the shop, I'd called them from the taxi and asked them to move up the departure.
"Let's go now." I stood up.
"Very well. Would you like us to check your luggage?" The lead agent glanced at my shabby little suitcase.
"No, I'll keep it with me."
I pulled the handle and followed him toward the boarding gate.
Twenty minutes later, the private jet started taxiing down the runway.
I sat in the plush leather seat, watching the city buildings shrink through the window. This harbor city — I'd lived here until I was twenty-four. Met Liam here. Sold my grandmother's apartment here. Lost my cat of ten years here.
Now I was finally leaving it all behind. The plane broke through the clouds, heading toward Monte City.
Liam
The air in the top-floor conference room of the Old Street property management building was suffocating.
Liam stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his tie pulled loose, the top button of his shirt undone. His right hand was clenched around the order card with the little green leaf drawn on the back. His knuckles were white from the pressure.
Ten minutes ago, the soaking wet, trembling real estate agent had brought that card and the lease up to him.
"She heard?" Vivian was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of coffee, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. "Looks like your 'poor boyfriend' game is really over. She even trashed your shop."
Liam didn't answer. He stared at the order card in his hand.
The green marker leaf — that was Ivy's habit. Whenever there was a flaw in the wrapping, she'd find a way to cover it up with a little drawing.
She'd heard. Not just about the flowers he'd sent to Vivian, but about the shop raid and the cat's death six months ago.
The Ivy who always looked at him with adoration and concern — who ate cheap sandwiches every day just so she could give him every coin she earned — had been standing right outside that door, listening to all of it.
Liam felt like he couldn't breathe. A strange, unfamiliar panic clawed at his chest, like a piece of his heart had been ripped out. He'd always thought this was just a game. But only now did he realize — three years of living together day in and day out — she'd gotten under his skin without him even noticing.
"Get the car." He shoved the conference room door open and strode out. "To that damn basement of hers!"
An hour later.
The black Aston Martin screeched to a halt in front of the rental building, tires leaving marks on the pavement.
Liam threw open the door, didn't even bother pulling the keys, and ran down to the basement.
The living room was dark. The air had a stale, musty smell from being closed up too long.
Liam stood in the doorway. His eyes swept across the empty coffee table. No ledger. No loose change. Even the discounted couple mugs he'd bought were gone.
He walked quickly to the bedroom.
The closet door was half open. Ivy's few cheap sweaters and jackets were all gone. The small suitcase she kept under the bed for winter clothes was missing too.
In the bathroom trash can sat the plastic hair clip he'd bought her last year, along with the crumpled-up IOU.
She was really gone.
Liam stood in the bathroom doorway, staring at the hair clip in the trash. The panic curdled into something uglier — a raw, uncontrolled rage.
"No way." He muttered under his breath, then spun around and pulled out his phone to dial the number he knew by heart.
The same robotic message: "The subscriber you are calling is busy."
Seventeen times. Seventeen straight rejections.
Liam's hands were shaking. He couldn't believe she'd left like this. Three years — three whole years of history. She'd sold her apartment, drained her funds, endured every hardship for him. How could she just wipe it all out because she overheard a few words?
She must be angry. Yeah, that was it. She was throwing a tantrum, waiting for him to explain, to coax her back.
"Right — the shop. She was at the shop."
He turned and ran out of the basement, jumped back into the car, and floored it toward Old Street.
Five minutes later, the black sports car skidded to a stop in front of the No. 14 flower shop.
The rolling shutter was wide open. Liam rushed in — then froze.
The place was a wreck. The giant display window was shattered across the floor. The climate-controlled flower cabinet was smashed to pieces. Roses and lilies floated in a pool of water, and the main water pipe was still gushing.
The real estate agent from this afternoon was standing in the water, shivering as he surveyed the damage.
Liam waded through the broken glass and grabbed the agent by the collar.
"Where's Ivy? Where did she go?!" His eyes were bloodshot.
The agent could barely breathe, clawing at Liam's hands. "Mr. Ashford — please let go — the lady left right after she trashed the place!"
"I asked you where she went!"
"I don't know!" The agent's voice trembled. "She threw the lease and the order card at me. Said to keep the deposit for the glass..."
The agent swallowed, looking at Liam's face — twisted with panic and fury — and stammered out the rest.
"She — she said the show was over. She was leaving Harbor City. Going back home to get married."
- Writer
