Chapter 13 - The Empty Apartment
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By 10:05 p.m., Adrian’s panic had morphed into sheer desperation. His credit cards were declining, his investors were leaving furious voicemails, and his bank accounts were locked. Accompanied by Celeste and two heavily built private security guards, Adrian sped across the city to my old, modest apartment in the arts district. He believed I had retreated to the only safe space I had left, intending to use his guards to force his way inside and intimidate me into calling off my lawyers.
He kicked open the front door, expecting to find the quiet, weeping foster girl huddled on the sofa. Instead, he found an apartment that had been professionally stripped bare. The furniture was gone. The closets were empty. There was no trace of my existence, save for the lingering scent of my perfume in the air.
In the exact center of the empty living room floor sat a single, thick manila envelope sealed with red wax.
Adrian tore the envelope open with shaking hands. Inside, he did not find a tearful apology letter. He found a legally binding, court-approved cease-and-desist order banning him from coming within five hundred feet of me, my family, or any Halcyon property. Stapled to the back of the order was a certified copy of the police report I had filed for aggravated assault, complete with high-resolution photos of my bruised face.
Celeste, realizing the magnitude of the disaster, snatched Adrian’s phone from his hand. She dialed my number, her hands trembling with aristocratic rage. I answered on the second ring.
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"You ungrateful little nobody," Celeste hissed into the phone, her voice echoing in the empty apartment. "We gave you a name. We gave you a place in society!"
I almost admired her blind, delusional confidence.
