Chapter 223

Chapter 223
Hannah

I held his gaze for a moment longer, searching for something I couldn't name. Then I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
"Goodbye, Leonardo."
He didn't respond, and I didn't look back as I walked to the elevator. The doors closed on the image of him standing in the doorway, watching me go.
The ride down to the lobby felt interminable. I clutched my purse, feeling the weight of the envelope inside. How much had he given me? Enough to make up for the remaining months of our agreement? More?
In the sleek black car waiting outside, I finally allowed the tears to fall. Not because I was in love with Leonardo; I wasn't, couldn't be, not with someone like him, but because the whirlwind that had consumed my life these past months had suddenly stopped, leaving me dizzy and disoriented.
The driver remained silent as we navigated through evening traffic. I wiped my eyes, trying to pull myself together before we reached my apartment. My mother would have questions if I arrived home obviously upset.
My mother. At least she would be taken care of financially now. No more predatory loans hanging over her head. And my education was secure. I had to focus on those positives.
The car pulled up in front of my building. I thanked the driver and got out, feeling strangely adrift as I watched the vehicle disappear around the corner.
Inside my apartment, I found my mother asleep on the couch, the TV still playing quietly. I covered her with a blanket and retreated to my room, closing the door softly behind me.
Sitting on my bed, I finally opened the envelope. Stacks of hundred-dollar bills filled it, more money than I'd ever seen in one place. I counted it with shaking hands: Eighty thousand dollars. Far more than what remained on our contract.
Why would he give me so much? Was it guilt money? A payoff to ensure my silence about his illegal activities? Or was it something else, a genuine desire to take care of me, even as he pushed me away?
I hid the money in the back of my closet and changed into pajamas, my mind racing. Leonardo's words kept repeating in my head: "I won't risk your safety."
Was he actually protecting me, or was there another reason he'd ended things so abruptly? Had something happened that I didn't know about?
Sleep eluded me that night. I tossed and turned, replaying our final conversation, analyzing his expressions, his tone, the careful distance he maintained between us. There was something he wasn't telling me, something beyond the vague threats about his enemies targeting me.
By morning, my exhaustion had transformed into a dull headache. I made coffee and checked on Mom, who was still asleep. The doctors had warned that her recovery would be slow, that she'd need plenty of rest. 
"Morning," she mumbled, eyes still closed as I entered her room.
"Morning. Need anything?"
She shook her head slightly. "Just more sleep."
I closed her door softly and returned to the kitchen. My phone sat on the counter, mockingly silent. No messages from Leonardo.
Fine. If that's how he wanted it, I could move on, too. I had my studies, my friends, and my mother to focus on. I didn't need Leonardo Salvatore or his complications.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" I asked Mom as I gathered my beach bag. "I can stay if you need me."
She waved me off from her position on the couch. "Go, Hannah. I've got my books, my shows, and enough snacks to last through a small apocalypse. I'll be fine for a few hours."
"Call if you need anything. I mean it."
"I promise." She picked up her novel. "Now go have fun with your friends. That's an order."
I kissed the top of her head and headed out, feeling oddly liberated. This was normal. This was what people my age did on weekends; they went to the beach with friends, not to penthouses with sugar daddies who had dangerous enemies.
The sun was brilliant as I stepped out of the cab at Santa Monica Pier. I spotted John immediately; his tall frame was easy to pick out even in the Saturday crowd. He wore bright blue swim trunks and a white t-shirt, a massive cooler at his feet.
"Hannah!" he called, waving enthusiastically. "Over here!"
I made my way toward him, weaving through tourists and locals alike. The smell of the ocean mingled with sunscreen and fried food, creating that distinct beach aroma that always reminded me of childhood trips with my parents.
"You made it," John said, giving me a quick hug. "Zoe and Sarah are already staking out our spot. I volunteered for cooler duty." He patted the large blue container beside him.
"What did you pack in that thing? Enough for an army?"
"Pretty much. Sandwiches, fruit, chips, cookies, water, soda... I might have gone overboard."
I laughed. "Here, I'll help you carry it."
We each took one handle and made our way down to the beach, following John's directions. The sand was already hot beneath my sandals, and I was glad I'd worn a hat to shield my face from the intense California sun.
Zoe and Sarah had claimed a perfect spot, not too close to the water but with an unobstructed view of the ocean. They'd already set up a large beach umbrella and spread out colorful towels across the sand.
"Look who I found," John announced as we approached.
Sarah looked up from applying sunscreen to her legs. "Hannah! We were just betting on whether you'd show or not. I said you would."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said, dropping my bag onto the sand.
"She had legitimate doubts," Zoe explained, adjusting her oversized sunglasses. "You've missed the last two coffee meetups. Is your mom okay?"
"She's getting better. It was scary for a while, but she's home now and improving every day."