Jarrett Sheppard didn't go back to the apartment. He drove to his office instead, his mind still racing.

He sat in his large leather chair and stared at his phone. He had dozens of messages from business associates and friends, all wishing him a happy birthday. But the one message he was looking for wasn't there.

He tried to rationalize it again. Her silence is a sign of progress. She's finally letting go.

In a fit of frustration, he threw his phone across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack and slid to the floor. He wanted to cut off the digital connection, to stop waiting for a notification that would never come.

He opened the bar in his office and poured himself a large glass of whiskey. He drank it down in one go, the burn in his throat doing nothing to ease the ache in his chest.

He thought about their relationship. She's my sister. That's all she can ever be. I can't love her that way.

He picked up his damaged phone. The screen was shattered, but it still worked. He opened his photo gallery, intending to delete all the pictures of her. But he hesitated. He scrolled through them instead. Alayna smiling. Alayna pouting. Alayna looking at him with adoration in her eyes. He couldn't bring himself to press delete.

He eventually fell asleep in his chair, the whiskey bottle empty on his desk. He dreamed of her. In the dream, she was walking away from him, disappearing into a crowd, and he couldn't reach her.

The next day, he drove back to the empty mansion on the hill. As he walked into the living room, he saw something on the coffee table.

It was the harmonica he had given her. And a drawing.

He picked up the drawing. At first, he thought it was a cruel joke. But as he looked closer, he saw that it was a portrait of him and Kisha. They were smiling, holding hands. But the smile on his own face in the drawing looked forced, exaggerated.

Then he saw the small note written in the corner.

[Jarrett, happy birthday. Let' s part ways here. We have no further connection.]

[I wish you all the best in a future without me.]

A sudden, cold panic seized him. He looked around the room. It was too clean, too empty.

He ran up to her room. It was bare. The closet was empty. The shelves were empty. All her things were gone.

He remembered the harmonica. She had treasured that gift. He had promised her he would always protect her. For her to leave it behind... it meant she was severing everything. This was a final goodbye.

He grabbed his phone, his hands shaking. He tried to call her.

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

He tried her social media. Her account was gone. Deleted.

A frantic, angry laugh escaped his lips. He couldn't believe it. He thought this was just another one of her tantrums, a dramatic gesture.

He called his assistant. "Find out where Alayna Dickerson is. Now!"

There was a pause on the other end. "Sir, I... I don't know. I don't have any information on her recent activities."

Jarrett slammed his fist on the table. He realized with a sinking feeling that he knew nothing about her life anymore. He had been so focused on pushing her away that he hadn't paid any attention to what she was actually doing.

He had no idea where his sister had gone.

For two days, Jarrett Sheppard was a man possessed. He had his security team trying to track Alayna's movements, but they came up with nothing. No credit card usage, no flight bookings under her name, no new address. It was as if she had vanished.

He paced the empty mansion, the silence amplifying his growing desperation.

He remembered his decision to keep his distance, to be cold to her. He had thought it was for her own good, to cure her of her crush. Now, he saw it was just cruel. He had driven her away.

He felt a constant, dull ache in his chest, a physical manifestation of his anxiety.

He found himself scrolling through his old chat history with her on his computer. It was mostly one-sided. Hundreds of messages from her, sharing small details of her day.

[Jarrett, I tried a new song today! It's your favorite.]

[The weather is nice, don't forget to wear a jacket.]

[I saw a dog that looked just like the one we wanted when we were kids.]

He remembered the day she had played him that song. He had come home with Kisha. Alayna had been so excited to have him listen. He had barely listened, dismissing it with a cold "It's fine," before turning his attention back to Kisha.

He remembered the look of disappointment on Alayna's face, a look he had seen so many times and had chosen to ignore. He remembered how she kept trying, day after day, to share her life with him, and how he had pushed her away every single time. A deep sense of guilt and regret washed over him.

Finally, his assistant called.

"Sir, we found her."

Jarrett's heart leaped. "Where is she?"

"She's in California, sir. She's with her father, Samuel Dickerson. It appears she has enrolled at the University of California, Berkeley College of Music."

The news hit him like a physical blow. California. Thousands of miles away. She hadn't just moved out. She had left the country.

"She... she left?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Yes, sir. Her flight was on the night of your birthday."

Anger and a possessive rage surged through him. How dare she leave without telling him? How dare she just disappear from his life?

"Book me the next flight to California," he commanded, his voice cold and hard.

He was going to find her. He was going to bring her back.

He rushed to the airport, a storm of emotions raging inside him. He didn't know what he would say to her, what he would do. He just knew he couldn't let her go. He had to face her.

Alayna's father, Samuel, drove her to a modern, high-rise apartment building near the Berkeley campus.

"I bought this place for you," he said, handing her a set of keys. "It's close to school, and it's safe."

The apartment was spacious and filled with light, with a balcony that overlooked the city. It was more than she could have ever imagined.

"Dad, this is too much," she said, overwhelmed.

"Nonsense," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "You're my daughter. You deserve the best." He then handed her another set of keys. "These are for the beach house in Malibu and the cabin at Lake Tahoe. They're yours. Go whenever you want. You have your freedom now."

He looked at her, his expression serious. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you more when you were growing up, Alayna. I regret it every day."

Alayna thought about her childhood. Her mother had always wanted her to be a certain way, to fit into the wealthy society of the Sheppard family. Her father, on the other hand, just wanted her to be happy.

She remembered the feeling of being abandoned after the divorce, how she had clung to Jarrett like a piece of driftwood in a storm. He was the only stability she had.

"It's okay, Dad," she said, comforting him. "The past is the past. We're here now."

She settled into her new apartment, a sense of peace and independence washing over her. For the first time in her life, she felt truly free.

That night, exhausted from the travel and the emotional turmoil of the past few weeks, she decided to take a long bath. The warm water was soothing, and she accidentally fell asleep in the tub.

She woke up hours later, shivering. The water was cold, and she felt a deep chill in her bones. She got out, dried off, and went to bed, but she couldn't get warm.

By morning, she had a high fever. She felt dizzy and weak.

She thought about calling her father, but she didn't want to worry him. She had just arrived. She wanted to show him she was independent.

She decided to go to the campus health clinic herself.

She got dressed, her head spinning. As she left her apartment, she felt a wave of dizziness and stumbled, bumping into someone who was just getting out of the elevator.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled, trying to steady herself.

But the world was already going black.