After I Died for Justice, He Chased Me for Years

Chapter 3

The unsparing, sudden barrage of accusations left Jillian stunned.

It took her a long moment to recover. With trembling fingers, she jotted down a line: "I just wanted to see them, do my duty as a daughter. I didn't go inside, only took one look from outside."

Nathan's gaze fell on her still-red eyes, and all the boiling rage in his chest fizzled out instantly.

He knew how cruel it was that she couldn't even properly pay her respects to her own parents. If she hadn't taken that undercover mission, she never would have had to sneak around like this.

He drew in a deep, steadying breath, each word slow and deliberate as he spoke. "Jillian, I want you to remember this: the living always matter more than the dead."

With that sharp remark hanging in the air, he spun on his heel and stormed into the study. The door slammed shut behind him with a loud BANG.

Dead silence swallowed the living room whole.

Through the window, the warm, lively chatter of neighboring families drifted in, casual and carefree as they discussed what to make for dinner, what plans they had for the next day.

Jillian stood rooted to the spot, completely alone. A crushing weight of emotion pressed down on her chest like a mountain, so heavy she could barely draw a breath.

The undercover mission was over. She was supposed to be home!

But she had no family left, no friends to turn to. Nathan was the only person she had in the whole world, and somehow, even the two of them weren't the same anymore.

In that moment, it felt like she'd never truly stepped back into the sunlight at all. It was as if she was still trapped in those six long, suffocating years of endless darkness.

The next day rolled around.

Jillian was up bright and early and had a full breakfast laid out on the table.

By the time they sat down to eat, the open hostility of the night before had faded, but the air between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. The only sounds were the soft clinks of dishes and utensils, small and sharp in the heavy quiet.

Mid-meal, with no warning, Nathan broke the silence. "Given the condition of your throat, there are no available positions at the branch office for you right now. You can't rejoin the team for the time being."

Jillian's movements froze mid-air.

She'd expected this outcome ever since she agreed to take the undercover mission.

She quickly blinked back the hurt and disappointment swimming in her eyes, ducking her head to jot down two simple words: "I understand."

But Nathan's frown deepened even more. "So after all this time, you still don't regret it?"

Regret?

Jillian froze for a second, then dug up from the back of her memory the words Nathan had said to her the day she took the undercover mission.

"Do you have any clue what being an undercover agent means? It means you might not make it out alive. It means you might never get to come back to the team..."

"Even if you don't care about any of that, did you ever stop to think about me? About how long we'd be apart?"

"Jillian, I get it, and I respect your choice. But don't you dare regret this later."

The way he'd looked when he said those words was still crystal clear in her head. A flicker of pain crossed her face before she wrote down: "I had no other choice. My parents died investigating the Taylor Group. I couldn't just..."

The unspoken message was loud and clear. She didn't regret it.

Nathan stared at the note she'd scribbled, his knuckles white from how hard he was squeezing his fists.

He finally reined in his roiling emotions. "I kept your parents' belongings in the study. Now that you're back, you can hold onto them yourself."

With that, he stood up and led her into the study.

The second they stepped through the door, Jillian spotted a cropped group photo on the desk. Only two people were left in the frame—Nathan and Jake Fraser, both in their official uniforms.

She remembered exactly when that photo was taken. She'd been there too, right between the two of them.

But now... she'd been cropped right out of it.

Jillian pushed down the unease coiling in her gut and pointed at the photo. "Why..."

Before she could finish the question, smack! Nathan slammed the photo face down on the desk.

Staring at his thunderous expression, Jillian felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest, so bitter it made her throat tighten.

She took a second to steady herself, then forced herself to switch topics. "Where's Jake? I haven't seen him at all since I got back."

Nathan went quiet. A long beat passed before he bit out three ice-cold words: "Got transferred."

Before Jillian could unpack that answer, Nathan handed her the box of keepsakes. "Head out first. I've got work to get to."

Jillian clenched her fingers so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Bitterness roiled up in her chest, thick and burning, and her eyes pricked with unshed tears.

She didn't press for more details. Clutching her father's mementos to her chest, she turned and hurried out of the study.

She'd barely stepped foot in her room when she heard the front door thud shut from the entryway.

A tight, sharp lurch seized her chest. She turned and walked slowly back out into the living area.

The study door was wide open; the room inside was completely empty. Nathan was already gone.

For a second, her chest felt just as hollow as that empty study, nothing but a raw, throbbing ache left behind.

It wasn't until it was almost time for Nathan to get off work that she forced herself to pull it together and cook dinner.

An hour later, right as she finished cooking the dishes, she heard the front door click open.

Nathan's voice drifted in right after. "Jillian, Nina Taylor will be living here from now on..."

Jillian looked toward the sound and saw a soft, delicate woman in a pure white dress walking in right behind him.

In that instant, every muscle in her body locked up. Her heart flat-out stopped beating.

The ceramic bowl she'd been holding slipped out of her numb fingers before she even noticed, shattering against the floor with a loud smash!

Nathan frowned slightly.

The woman, though, just smiled and held out a hand to Jillian. "So you're Jillian! I'm Nina."

That hand was pale, slender, and perfectly smooth, but cold sweat was beading fast on Jillian's forehead.

Nina. This was the daughter of Leo Taylor, chairman of the Taylor transnational criminal syndicate—the very group Jillian had spent six years undercover inside.