Chapter 41
Elise's POV
It took me two and a half hours to pack everything I owned.
There wasn't much. Two suitcases of clothes. One box of books. A toiletry bag. The tattoo kit I carried separately—that one couldn't be lost.
Standing in the center of the apartment, I looked around one last time. The gray fabric sofa was Liam's choice. The curtains were measured and installed by people he'd called. That semi-professional espresso machine in the kitchen was something he'd picked up on a whim at the mall because I'd mentioned once, casually, that I wanted to learn latte art. Even the abstract painting on the wall was his selection—he didn't understand art, but he knew that having art made a space look "tasteful."
Everything here was his.
Not a single thing was mine.
When I closed the door behind me, I didn't look back.
---
Benjamin and Margaret lived in an old residential complex on the west side of the city.
It was a six-story walk-up with outdated beige paint peeling from the exterior walls, half the lights in the stairwell burned out, and an elevator that frequently stopped working between floors. Their apartment was a three-bedroom with a living room dominated by a sagging leather sofa set, a coffee table perpetually cluttered with fruit plates and remote controls, and a television that stayed on even when no one was watching.
This was the place I'd called "home" since I was fourteen.
When I set my luggage down by the door, Anna was curled up on the sofa, scrolling through her phone.
She looked up at the sound of the door opening. The moment she saw it was me, a familiar expression crossed her face—like a cat catching the scent of a mouse.
"Well, well." She tossed her phone onto the sofa cushion and tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over me and landing on the two large suitcases at my feet. "If it isn't our little star. What brings you back? Did Liam finally dump you?"
I ignored her and bent down to grab my suitcase handles.
"I'm talking to you." Her voice rose, laced with manufactured surprise that drew Margaret's attention from the kitchen. "Why are you dragging all this stuff back here by yourself? Where's your sugar daddy boyfriend? Didn't he send a driver to drop you off?"
"Anna." Margaret emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron stained with cooking oil. "What's going on? Who's here?"
"Your daughter." Anna jerked her chin in my direction, her lips curling into an undisguised smirk. "Got dumped and came crawling back home with her tail between her legs."
Margaret's expression shifted. Not to concern—but to something more complex that flickered briefly in her eyes, something like surprise mixed with rapid calculation.
"Elise?" She approached, her voice suddenly much softer, even carrying a note of fake concern. "Why did you come back so suddenly? You didn't even call ahead."
"I'm staying for a few days," I said.
"Staying for a few days?" Anna laughed outright. "Did Liam kick you out? Or did you screw things up yourself? I told you—a man like that could never actually like you. Who do you think you are—"
Her words suddenly triggered a memory.
That night at the tattoo shop.
Four thugs. They'd known my name, my apartment address, my school, the location of my tattoo shop. Ordinary clients couldn't possibly have access to that much information.
Unless someone told them.
I looked at Anna. She was still chattering away, her face wearing that gleeful expression, savoring every word like it was something delicious.
"Anna."
I said her name.
She paused, probably because my tone was too calm—not the kind of flustered or aggrieved reaction she'd expected.
"That night at the tattoo shop," I said, keeping my gaze fixed on her face. "Did you have something to do with it?"
Her smile froze for an instant.
Just an instant. So brief I almost thought I'd imagined it.
Then she laughed even harder, her mouth twisting as she shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance.
"What are you talking about? I have no idea what you mean."
"Yes, you do."
I kept my eyes on her.
"Those four men knew too much about me. My address, my shop, my relationship with Liam. That kind of information isn't something just anyone could get. But you could."
"Do you have proof?" Her eyes narrowed, the smile still playing on her lips, though the lightness had vanished from her gaze. "Don't go making baseless accusations without evidence."
"I don't need proof to have this conversation with you," I said. "I just need you to understand one thing—you'd better watch your mouth. Because sooner or later, you're going to pay for every word you spread."
Anna stared at me for three seconds.
Then she laughed.
Not a frightened laugh. The kind of dismissive laugh that said, "Who do you think you're scaring?"
"Fine," she said, her tone as casual as if we were discussing the weather. "Let's say it was me. So what? What are you going to do about it? In this house, you're the one living under someone else's roof. Don't forget your place."
She picked up her phone from the sofa and went back to scrolling, completely dismissing me as if I'd ceased to exist.
Margaret had been watching this entire exchange.
She said nothing. She didn't take Anna's side, nor did she take mine—she just watched, her eyes moving between us, as if assessing the situation.
Only now did she finally speak.
"Alright, alright, that's enough from both of you." She stepped forward, reaching out as if to take my suitcase. "Elise, go put your things in your room. We can talk more at dinner."
I didn't let her touch the luggage. I carried it into the room myself.
The room was small. A single bed, a wardrobe, a desk. The wallpaper was pale pink—Margaret had personally chosen it when I was fourteen—with matching floral sheer curtains. I hadn't slept here in a long time. The last time was over a year ago, during some holiday when I'd stayed for two days before finding an excuse to leave.
I set the suitcases against the wall and sat on the edge of the bed.
I hadn't come back because I had nowhere else to go.
I'd come back to find out what happened to my inheritance.
The enemy was right in front of me. I needed to get closer to see what cards they were holding.