(Laura POV)

I should have known something was wrong when I received a call early in the morning.

"Hello, am I speaking to Laura?"

"Who is this?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It showed 5:45 a.m, and the room was still dim.

I guess it's time to get up for work.

"This is Mr. Marcos, the family lawyer. I'm sorry to tell you that your father is dead."

"What did you just say…" I asked, sitting up in shock.

"Your…" he started to say, but none of the words registered in my mind as the phone slipped out of my hand and landed somewhere in the sheets.

I stared blankly at the wall opposite me, trying to recall the last time I'd heard his voice. It was early this year, and the moment I'd realized I was speaking to him, I'd cut the call.

I walked away from the only family member I had two years ago, when I couldn't take the pain anymore.

I grew up not knowing my mother. I was told she died giving birth to me.

And I was ten when my father came home and introduced Luciana and Betty as my stepmother and stepsister.

"She will be your new mum now, dear," my father said, smiling.

"Oh, dear." Luciana came close and squatted down. "I will make sure I take very good care of you, and you now have a sister," she said, smiling at me as she drew her own daughter closer.

That was the last time I ever had anything I could call my own. My dolls, my clothes, everything I had was taken away, down to the attention my father used to show me. And when I complained, I was scolded for not loving my sister enough, for not wanting to share.

I still remember the first boy I ever crushed on. Jason Reeves golden boy of Hill High, the kind of name that made the whole hallway go quiet when he walked through it. I was fourteen, and I'd rehearsed what I'd say to him for a week before he ever said a word to me first.

"You're in my English class, right?" he'd asked one afternoon by the lockers.

"Yeah," I'd managed, gripping my textbook like it might float away.

"Some of us are hanging out this weekend. You should come."

I couldn't stop smiling through out the day. Immediately after school, I ran home and found Nanny Gina in the kitchen, and I told her everything the way he'd leaned against the locker next to mine, the way he'd said you should come like it mattered whether I did.

I didn't notice Betty in the doorway until it was too late.

By Sunday night, Luciana was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

"I hear you've been sneaking around with boys," she said, arms crossed.

"I wasn't sneaking anywhere."

"Your father will hear about this."

And he did. And when he looked at me that evening, it wasn't with curiosity or concern it was with the flat disappointment of a man who'd already decided I was guilty.

"No boys, Laura. Not until you're older," he said, and that was the end of it. I never went to that hangout. I never told Jason why.

That was the first time my father ever raised his voice at me over a lie Betty had planted with a single sentence in a doorway.

What finally broke me, what made me decide to leave the house, was finding Betty and Mark, my college sweetheart, together in bed.

The memory is as clear as anything. After college, I started working at my dad's company. I remember coming back from a business trip with him and arriving home a few hours early. I wanted to surprise him, but I got the surprise of my life instead they were tangled together as I walked in.

"Hi, sis," Betty said, waving. She was the first to see me from the doorway.

"Babe, it's not what you think," Mark rushed to say, trying to untangle himself from her.

"Then explain to me what it is," I said.

"Come on, sis, can't we share the same man?" Betty chuckled, pulling one of Mark's shirts around herself.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked Mark, staring at him.

"Three years," Mark whispered back.

That included my final year of college. "So all that time you kept saying you were busy, you never were."

I don't remember turning around and walking out of the house, all I remember was getting to the side of the road and pulling out my phone from my bag to call my best friend, Tia.

“Girl, what's wrong? Tia asked.

“I… I…” I couldn't get the words out of my mouth.

“Just stay where you are, turn on your location and I will pick you up” She interrupted me.

That night I cried in her car as we drove back to her place, I cried as I lay down on her bed. All the pain I'd bottled up finally came loose. Tia was the only one there to comfort me.

The next morning, when I came home, I found Betty with Dad and Luciana having breakfast, the smell of coffee and toast thick in the air like nothing had happened.

"Where were you last night, Laura?" Dad asked.

"I was at Tia's," I replied, starting up the stairs.

"Without informing me or your stepmother?"

"I'm sure your precious daughter Betty already told you what happened," I burst out.

"Dear…" Luciana reached her hand toward Dad's. "The girls just had a little misunderstanding, that's all."

"You call that a misunderstanding, when I caught your daughter in bed with my boyfriend?" I all but shouted.

Betty's eyes widened. I'm sure she wasn't expecting me to say what had really happened.

"Dad, we're in love. He doesn't love Laura anymore," Betty cried out.

"Does that give you the right to date him?" I asked.

"But he no longer…"

"Enough." Dad's voice boomed, halting all conversation. "I don't want to hear about Mark."

"Is that all you have to say, Dad?" I asked, staring at the man who, for years, had always taken Betty's side. "She betrayed me. She slept with my boyfriend."

"If he truly loved you, he wouldn't have fallen for your sister. That just means he never loved you."

His words stabbed me. He turned around, picked up his newspaper, and walked toward his study.

I looked around the breakfast table, and my eyes caught the mother daughter duo smiling at me, as if to say they'd won.

By the time I got to my room and shut the door behind me, all my pent-up anger and frustration lashed out in the form of tears. I cried and cried, not knowing how long it had been.

Until Nanny Gina walked in and held me in her arms.

"It's okay, dear, you'll be fine," she whispered, petting my hair until I fell asleep.

When I woke up again, it was evening. The room had gone gray and quiet, and I'd already made up my mind about what I wanted to do.

I walked to my closet and started dropping clothes into my bag. It was time to leave.

As I kept folding and packing, I heard my door open, and Nanny Gina called out to me.

"Laura, where are you?"

"In here," I called back.

"What are you doing?"

"I think it's time I leave this house. I can't keep being around people who don't love me."

"Your father loves you," she said, walking toward me.

"No, he doesn't," I told Nanny Gina, wiping the tears rolling down my face.

It's time for me to take control of my own life

Chapter Two

(Laura POV)

A week after I left the house to stay with Tia was the last time I saw him, when I walked into his office.

"Come in." My father's familiar voice boomed from inside the room.

As I stepped inside, the first thing that caught my eye was the large plaque on his desk: Chief Executive Officer.

"Dad, I need to talk to you," I said, walking into the room.

He didn't look up from his papers and just kept signing whatever was in front of him, like I was any other employee who'd wandered in.

"Make it quick, Laura, I have a meeting in ten minutes."

He hadn't seen me in a week, and that's all he had to say. I swallowed hard. "I'd like to take some leave. A week, maybe two."

That got his attention. He set down his pen and finally looked at me, and I saw it before he even said a word — that flicker of impatience he always wore when he thought I was being difficult.

"Leave? Why do you need it?"

"I just need some time, Dad. Things have been…"

"Is this about Mark?" he cut in.

"It's about a lot of things, Dad."

"Laura." He said my name the way he always did when he was about to lecture me, like it was a warning bell. "You cannot keep running your life around a man who chose your sister. You have a job here. Responsibilities. I didn't build this company so my daughter could take a vacation every time her heart gets bruised."

"You know that's not fair."

"Fair?" He chuckled. "You want to talk to me about fair? What's not fair is him controlling your life even after he's out of it. We have a big contract on the way that you should be working on, and you're in here discussing your boyfriend…"

"Ex-boyfriend," I interrupted, "and they'd been together for more than three years. It was happening right under my nose."

He picked his pen back up, the conversation apparently over as far as he was concerned. "I won't approve the leave. You have a lot of work to do."

I stood there for a moment, as if waiting for him to console me. It didn't come.

"Is there something else?" he asked, not looking up.

"No," I said quietly, and turned for the door.

"Laura."

I stopped, my hand on the handle, and some small foolish part of me hoped he'd changed his mind.

"You're better off without him," he said. "Mark, I mean. A man like that was never going to make you happy."

It should have sounded like comfort. Instead it landed like one more thing he'd decided about my life without asking me first one more verdict handed down instead of a hand extended.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm starting to think I'm better off without a lot of people."

I didn't wait to see his reaction. I walked out, and I didn't stop walking until I was in the elevator, and then in my car, where I finally let out a deep breath I'd been holding in.

I sent in my resignation a few days later. I didn't call. I sent an email to HR and came in at night, when no one was around, to clear my desk.

A month later I got a job in Los Angeles and left without saying goodbye to anyone.

Something buzzed in my hand, pulling me back from memory lane. I looked down and saw a message lighting up the screen.

'Where are you right now? Don't forget to bring the file. Call me back as soon as you can - Priya'

I'd almost forgotten where I was supposed to be today I am suppose to have meeting this morning with the head office for our monthly check-in.

I didn't feel like going in, not with Mr. Marcos's voice still ringing in my ears and my father's body somewhere in a morgue I hadn't even called about yet.

I called her back.

"Laura, where are you?" Priya's voice, clipped and rushed. "Mr. Holloway's asking for the Bristow file, and he wants you in the room for the nine o'clock."

I looked at the clock. 8:41.

"I don't think I will be coming in today," I said, wiping tears off my face.

"Dear, what's wrong?"

The line went silent for a few moments before I responded, "I just got a call from my father's lawyer. I was told he's dead."

The line stayed quiet for a moment, and I could almost picture Priya on the other end, hand pressed to her mouth the way she always did when something caught her off guard. She was the first friend I made when I arrived here, and she had always been there for me.

"Laura." Her voice dropped, all the clipped urgency from a moment ago gone completely. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. When did this happen?"

"This morning." My voice cracked on the word, and I let it, too tired to hold it together for her benefit. "A lawyer called me. I didn't even get the full details before I hung up on him."

"Oh my God. Laura, I'm so sorry." I heard her moving, a door closing somewhere on her end, like she wanted privacy for whatever came next. "Don't worry about the meeting. Don't worry about any of it. I'll handle Mr. Holloway."

"He's going to be furious."

"Let him be furious. This isn't about him right now." Her voice was firm Priya, who spent most of her day smoothing things over, absorbing Holloway's moods so the rest of us didn't have to. "Is there anyone with you? Anyone you can call?"

"No…" I admitted. "I haven't called anyone."

"You shouldn't be alone right now. Call your friend, whoever's closest to you. I'll handle things here." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I'm going to leave early and come check on you."

"Thank you," I said, and I meant it more than the words probably conveyed.

"Call me if you need anything. I'm serious. Anytime."

"I will."

We hung up, and the apartment fell quiet again. I sat there for a second, staring at the screen, watching it dim, and then I did the only thing that felt right I scrolled to Tia's name and called her.

Tia still lived in New York, where she worked as a fashion designer for one of the leading brands in the country.

She picked up on the second ring, sounding distant.

"Hey girl, how are you doing? I was just about to text you…"

"My dad died." The words came out flat again, making me feel numb.

"Laura, what did you just say?" Tia's voice came in sharply.

"A lawyer called me this morning. Mr. Marcos. He said my father's dead, and then I don't even really remember the rest of the call, I just…" I pressed my palm against my mouth, the words tumbling out faster than I meant them to. "I don't know what to do, Tia. I'm confused."

"Oh my God, Laura." Her voice cracked slightly too, the news clearly landing hard on her end. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe this."

"I know." My throat tightened, the distance between us suddenly feeling heavier than usual. "I don't even know what to do right now."

"Laura." Her voice softened, but there was something steady underneath it, something that sounded like she was already thinking three steps ahead. "I think the best thing to do is come home, to at least see your father one more time."

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I haven't even thought that far."

"I know you feel hurt, and I get it," She said it gently, but there was no room for argument. "I know how you feel about that house, Laura, believe me, I remember exactly how you feel about that house. But he was your father. And I'm not far I can come to you the second you land, wherever you want to stay. You won't have to walk into that place alone."

"I don't even know when the funeral is yet," I replied. "Luciana or Betty haven't called to tell me."

"Then find out. And book a flight the second you do." A pause, softer now. "I mean it. Let me be there for you this time."

I closed my eyes, the phone against my ear, as she calmed me down. The tightness in my chest loosened a bit.

"Thank you so much," I said quietly. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear something."

"Good. I'll call you back later."

As I dropped the call, a message popped up on my screen.

'You don't need to come home, you have nothing left here.'

(Laura POV)

I stared at the message for a long time reading it over and over again.

'You don't need to come home, you have nothing left here.'

There was no name from the sender, just the number that sent it. But something told me it is either from Luciana or Betty. I tapped on it, scrolled up through the thread, and there it was, the same number that had sent me that message back when I first left the house, the one warning me not to come back home.

I still suspect that it is from Luciana. She was always after the money, I don't know how my father never saw through her fake facade.

I set the phone down on the counter and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, willing myself not to cry again.

The knock on my door came a little after seven, and when I opened it, Priya was standing there with two plastic bags in one hand and a look on her face that was somewhere between determined and gentle.

Before I could say a word, she pulled me into a hug. "How are you doing? And I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Priya, you didn't have to…"

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." She set the bags down on my kitchen counter and started unpacking containers some kind of noodle dish, spring rolls, a chicken soup that smelled like ginger and something warm. "I know you haven't eaten yet. Come sit."

I sank onto one of the stools at my counter, watching her move around my kitchen.

"I talked to Mr. Holloway," Priya said, pulling out some plates and dishing out the food. "I told him what happened. He wasn't thrilled, obviously, because when is he ever, but he knows. What would you like to have?"

"Thank you," I said quietly. "I don't think I would have been able to handle him all by myself. Just give me anything that will go down my throat easily."

"You wouldn't have had to. I made sure of that." She slid a bottle of water and a plate of noodles with chicken soup toward me. "By the way, did you already send in something official? For the leave, I mean. HR usually wants it in writing, even for something like this."

I opened my mouth to say yes, and then stopped, because the truth was I hadn't. I'd told Priya. I'd told Tia. I'd sat here for hours letting the day fall apart around me, and somewhere in all of it, the actual, practical step of requesting time off had slipped through completely.

"I haven't," I admitted. "I completely forgot. I don't even know how I forgot something that basic."

"Laura, your father died this morning. You're allowed to forget things." Priya pulled out her phone, thumb already moving. "Do you have the HR email pulled up? Let's just get it done now, before it becomes one more thing hanging over you."

I found my laptop where I'd abandoned it that morning, and sent a message to HR informing them of my father's passing, asking for two weeks, promising to follow up once I knew more about the funeral arrangements.

"Okay," Priya said, setting her fork down after we'd both picked at the food for a while. "Now. Tell me you have a bag packed."

"I haven't Priya, I don't think I will be going back to New York."

"Why?" Priya asked, surprise lining her face.

I rubbed my temples and picked up my phone to show her the text message that I received. "There is nothing left for me there."

“Oh… dear” she dropped the phone and pulled me to the couch “You need to pay your father a last respect dear. I can come with you if yo want.”

"I know. But”

“Go home Laura and have closure, you have been through a lot.” She was already up pulling me along and moving toward my bedroom. "Come on. I'll help you pack."

I followed her, mostly because I didn't have the energy to argue, and stood in the doorway of my own closet while she pulled things down my clothes.

The next morning, she drove me to the airport.

“Call me once you land.” Priya said. “Never forget you are not alone.”

“I will” I said returning back the hug.

As I approach the counter, the woman behind it typed my confirmation number in, frowned, typed it again, and then looked up at me with an expression I recognized immediately as bad news trying to find a polite way out.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, just a minute." She typed into her system again. "It looks like there's been a mix-up with your booking. This flight shows as already checked in under your name."

"That's not possible," I said, pulling out my phone to show her the confirmation email. "I just booked this last night. I haven't checked in for anything."

"I understand, but the seat's already been assigned in our system, I going to need to rebook you..."

"I don't have forty-eight hours. I need to be there for my father's funeral." My voice climbed, sharper than I meant it to

"I'm very sorry for your loss, ma'am, but I don't have any earlier availability I can offer you."

She tapped away at her keyboard, printed something out, and slid the slip across the counter along with an apology I barely heard. I grabbed it, my bag, and what was left of my patience, and turned away from the counter.

As I turn around to walk away, I dumped into someone my bag toppling sideways, a splash of hot drink dripping down my shirt.

I looked up, already halfway through an apology, and the words caught in my throat.

The sharp line of his jaw, shadowed with the kind of stubble that looked deliberate rather than lazy, was the first thing that caught my eye. Then his amber eyes the same unreadable stare I remembered all too well.

He wore a grey suit that fit like it had been made for exactly this body and no other, the jacket open, a watch on his wrist that probably cost more than the apartment I'd just packed up. His hair was cut shorter than the last time I'd seen him, and there was something harder in his face now, something I couldn't read.

Nathaniel Cross stood before me.