Chapter 132 Who Are You
Mrs. Ginger looked tense, her hand trembling as she clutched the brochure.
Quinley had tossed it in her suitcase back when she still worked at Apex Global Group. It had been so long, she'd completely forgotten about it. And now this brochure had almost blown her cover.
"I found that on a train," Quinley lied.
The light in Mrs. Ginger's eyes dimmed. "Oh. I thought maybe you'd worked there."
She mumbled the words almost to herself.
Quinley got her emotions in check and asked carefully, "Mrs. Ginger, is there something you're trying to find out? I could ask a friend to look into it for you."
At that, Mrs. Ginger's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up again. She looked at Quinley, lips trembling. "My daughter used to work at that company. But she... she's gone now..."
Before she could finish, Mrs. Ginger covered her face and started crying. She sobbed hard, and the grief was so raw that Quinley felt herself getting pulled down into that dark place too.
Apex Global Group was massive—nearly two thousand full-time employees at headquarters alone, plus dozens of subsidiary companies bringing the total workforce into the tens of thousands. They hired loads of interns every year too. So when Mrs. Ginger mentioned her daughter, Quinley didn't immediately make any connections.
She grabbed some tissues and handed them over. "If your daughter got a job at such a big company, she must've been really talented. I'm sure if she knew how sad you are, it would break her heart. Try to look forward. Live well. She can see you from up there."
Mrs. Ginger seemed to take comfort in that. She wiped away her tears. "You're right. My daughter was so smart. She was a straight-A student from the time she was little. Never gave me a bit of trouble."
She pulled out her phone, found a photo of her daughter, and showed it to Quinley.
The moment Quinley saw it, her heart stopped. She recognized the girl. It was Lily.
What a small world. In this unfamiliar little town, Quinley had somehow stumbled into the life of Lily's family. Maybe because of that connection, she suddenly felt closer to Mrs. Ginger.
"It's all my fault—I was useless. I dragged her down. After her father died, I got sick. She worked so hard trying to keep our family afloat. I never thought she'd get depression. She was only twenty-two when she jumped off that building..."
Mrs. Ginger broke down crying again.
Lily's death had happened over half a year ago, but Quinley remembered it vividly. Everyone wanted to change their circumstances, to have a better life. Lily had just chosen the wrong path. Mrs. Ginger didn't know about what had happened between Lily and Peter, and Quinley wasn't about to tell her.
"It's all in the past now, Mrs. Ginger. Things will get better."
Quinley reached out and hugged this mother who'd lost her daughter—a hug on Lily's behalf.
On her second day in the little house, Quinley went and got her hair cut. That beautiful long hair—gone, just like that. She didn't regret it for a second.
To hide the scar on her forehead, the stylist gave her bangs. Quinley stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. She really wasn't used to it. So she had the stylist shave it all off, leaving her forehead completely exposed.
On the third day, Quinley had Mrs. Ginger wheel her to the market to buy some rough cotton clothes—the local style. Everything she'd brought from Rosewood City, she burned.
When Mrs. Ginger helped her into those simple clothes, Quinley looked like she'd been born and raised in Lakeside City.
On the fourth day, Quinley started learning the local dialect from Mrs. Ginger. She was sharp and picked things up fast—within a day, she'd already absorbed a ton.
On the fifth day, Quinley had Mrs. Ginger buy a bunch of sunflower seeds. The front yard was looking pretty bare, so Mrs. Ginger planted them all. Soon there'd be a sea of golden blooms—it was going to look gorgeous.
On the sixth day, Quinley went back to the market and got herself a tabby cat and a mixed-breed mutt. Both were sweet-tempered and well-behaved. She named the cat Thirteen and the dog Fifteen.
On the seventh day, Quinley lay in the yard feeling the breeze, petting the cat, playing with the dog, breathing in the scent of flowers, watching the moon all night long.
Life was exactly what she'd hoped it would be. Except for the fact that she'd lost the baby forever.
On the eighth day, the people Zachary had sent to find Quinley suddenly showed up in Lakeside City.
That morning, Quinley slept in later than usual. Mrs. Ginger had gone to the early market—Quinley loved mushrooms picked after rain, and you had to get there early to snag them.
Loud knocking echoed from the front gate. "Bang bang bang."
Quinley sat up in bed and stretched to look out the window. She figured Mrs. Ginger had forgotten her keys, but then she spotted a familiar face.
Out of all the people Zachary had sent out, one of them happened to be someone Quinley knew.
In that instant, panic flooded through her. Her heart jumped into her throat. She'd worked so hard to escape Rosewood City, to get away from all that pain and drama. She couldn't go back to that place of heartbreak.
"Hello? Anyone home? Is anyone there?"
The knocking continued. When no one answered, they just kept pounding.
Right when Quinley was at peak panic mode, Mrs. Ginger came back. She was walking toward the house with her basket when Quinley frantically tried calling her phone. But Mrs. Ginger didn't hear it.
"Sorry to bother you, but have you seen this woman?" The man pulled out a photo of Quinley.
Quinley held her breath. The car accident had left a scar on her forehead, and her face was still swollen. Unless someone looked really carefully, they'd never recognize her as the woman in that photo.
Mrs. Ginger took the picture and studied it closely.
She stared at the photo. Quinley stared at her. Her heart was hammering so hard she thought it might burst.
Mrs. Ginger had been with her constantly—she'd definitely be able to spot something. If she let even one word slip, everything Quinley had worked for would be destroyed.
"Don't know her. Never seen her. Where are you folks from?" Mrs. Ginger spoke in thick local dialect, handing the photo back.
"Never seen her," she said firmly.
"This your place?" One of them pointed at Quinley's little house.
Mrs. Ginger shook her head. "My house is over that way. This is my niece's place. Just dropping off some mushrooms I picked up at the market."
She opened the gate and walked in. For some reason, the two men followed her inside.
Quinley's heart nearly stopped. But she forced herself to calm down fast.
She hobbled into the bathroom, slathered her face with a thick layer of face mask, then limped out to the living room.
"Bathroom's that way," Mrs. Ginger said, leading the two men in.
Quinley was sprawled on the couch when they walked in. One guy immediately headed for the bathroom. The other looked at Quinley suspiciously.
Time seemed to freeze. Their eyes met. Quinley's heart pounded in her chest.
"Mrs. Ginger, who are these guys?" Quinley asked in the thickest local accent she could manage.
"Just passing through. They needed to use the bathroom."
Mrs. Ginger was too nice, too trusting of strangers.
"You're not from around here, huh? Where you from? There's a public restroom up ahead—just two hundred meters that way. Using someone's private bathroom is pretty rude!" Quinley's accent was spot-on. For good measure, she rolled her eyes at the guy.
The man from the bathroom came back. The one in the living room shook his head at him. They exchanged a look and quickly left.
As soon as they were gone, Mrs. Ginger rushed to lock the gate. When she came back, suspicion was written all over her face.
"Cindy, who are you really?"