Chapter 218

Chapter 218
Sadie's POV

Wednesday evening, I sat at my desk, staring at the SIM card I'd pulled from my old phone three years ago.

I'd kept it. God help me, I'd kept it.

All his messages were still there. Every text, every voicemail, every desperate plea in those first few days after I'd left.

I'd never listened to them.

Never dared.

But sometimes, late at night when the loneliness got too heavy, I'd take out the card and hold it. Proof that he'd cared. That I hadn't imagined it.

My laptop chimed. An email from Liam.

Dinner reservations confirmed for Thursday, 7 PM. The Ivy. Wear something nice. Dad's bringing his business partner, so it's semi-formal.

Also, I wasn't kidding about Jake. He's been relentless. Every time I see him, he asks if I've heard from you. If I know where you are. I haven't told him anything. But Sadie, he's not doing well. I thought you should know.

I closed the laptop.

Not doing well.

What did that mean? Was he sick? Hurt? Had something happened?

Or did it just mean what I feared most—that he'd moved on, found someone else, and "not doing well" was Liam's polite way of saying Jake had finally forgotten me?

The thought should have brought relief.

It didn't.

I picked up the SIM card again, turning it over in my fingers. It would be so easy. Slip it into my current phone, scroll through the messages, hear his voice one more time.

But I'd promised myself. No looking back. No contact. Clean break.

For his sake.

"If you know the truth, you'll hate me more."

I'd written that in the letter I'd left him. The one I'd agonized over for hours, trying to find words that would make him let go without destroying him completely.

I'd failed, obviously. Liam's messages made that clear.

But what was the alternative? Tell him the truth? Watch his face change from love to disgust when he realized whose daughter I was?

Watch him remember that summer—our summer—and realize it had all been built on a lie?

No.

Better he think I'd never loved him. Better he hate me for being shallow and cruel than hate me for being Phoenix Brooks' daughter.

I put the SIM card back in its hiding place, tucked inside the lining of an old jewelry box.

Then I pulled out my phone and texted Liam back.

Me: See you tomorrow. Looking forward to it.

Another lie.

I was getting good at those.

---

Thursday came too fast.

I stood in front of my closet, staring at the handful of dresses I owned. Most were from before—gifts from Jake, from his mother Diane, from that brief, shining moment when I'd thought I could belong in their world.

I'd brought them to London but never worn them.

Couldn't.

Finally, I pulled out a simple black dress. Knee-length, long sleeves, nothing special. Paired it with the pearl earrings Mom had given me for my eighteenth birthday.

In the mirror, I looked older. Thinner. Tired.

Three years of running had left marks.

"You look beautiful," Mom said from the doorway.

I turned. She was dressed for dinner too, elegant in navy blue. But her eyes were sad.

"Mom—"

"I know you don't want to talk about it." She crossed the room, adjusting my collar. "But Sadie, you can't keep punishing yourself. What your father did—that wasn't your fault."

"I know." My voice came out flat.

"Do you?" She cupped my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. "Because it seems like you've been trying to disappear for three years. And I've let you, because I thought you needed space. But sweetheart, there's a difference between healing and hiding."

I pulled away gently. "I'm not hiding."

"Then what do you call changing your number? Cutting off your friends? Refusing to come home for holidays?"

"I call it moving on."

The words hung between us, brittle and false.

Mom sighed. "Liam said Jake's been asking about you."

My chest tightened. "Liam talks too much."

"He cares about you. They both do." She hesitated. "Have you ever thought about just... telling him? The truth?"

"No." The answer came fast, automatic. "And I never will. Promise me you won't either."

"Sadie—"

"Promise me, Mom. Please."

She studied my face for a long moment. Then, reluctantly: "I promise. But I think you're making a mistake."

Maybe I was.

But it was mine to make.

---

The Ivy was everything I remembered about that world. Crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, waiters who moved like shadows. We were shown to a private room in the back, where Richard and Liam were already waiting.

Liam stood when he saw me, his face breaking into a grin.

"There she is! Come here, sis."

He pulled me into a hug, and for a moment, I let myself relax. Liam had always been safe. Uncomplicated. He didn't ask questions I couldn't answer.

"You look good," he said, stepping back. "London agrees with you."

Another lie I let pass.

Richard hugged me next, paternal and warm. "Sadie. It's been too long."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. We understand." He gestured to the table. "Sit. We have much to catch up on."

Dinner was pleasant. Easy conversation about classes, about Richard's business expansion in Europe, about Liam's upcoming graduation. He was planning to join his father's company, already talking about deals and mergers with the confidence of someone born to wealth.

It should have been comfortable.

It was torture.

Because every few minutes, Liam would mention Lincoln Heights. A mutual friend. A party. The football team.

And then, inevitably: "Oh, you'll never guess who I ran into last week."

My fork paused halfway to my mouth.

"Jake," Liam continued, oblivious. "He's at Harvard now. Got in on a combination of football and some crazy finance program. Looks like hell, though. I mean, he's always been intense, but now he's just... I don't know. Exhausted? Like he's running himself into the ground."

Richard frowned. "I thought he was doing well. Charles mentioned he's managing some of the family portfolio already."

"Oh, he's doing well." Liam made air quotes. "But he's not happy. You can tell."

My mother's hand found mine under the table, squeezing gently.

I forced myself to swallow. To breathe.

"That's... unfortunate," I managed.

Liam looked at me then, really looked, and I saw the question forming.

Don't ask. Please don't ask.

"You know," he said slowly, "he still asks about you. Every single time I see him."

My throat closed.

"Liam," Richard said quietly. "Perhaps we should change the subject."

But Liam was already leaning forward, his expression earnest. "I know you guys had some kind of falling out. And I know it's none of my business. But Sadie, he's my best friend. And he's miserable. Has been for three years."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I can't—I can't help him."

"Can't or won't?"

"Liam." Mom's voice was sharp.