1: 1
Six years after I left Ashford, I ran into Brett Delgado in the airport nursing room.
He was mixing formula for a little girl, his hands far more practiced than they used to be.
We looked at each other for a few seconds before he spoke first. "Long time no see."
I smiled too. "Long time no see."
Six years ago he'd said he was going to meet an informant to gather evidence, and he never came back.
Everyone told me to accept it, said I was too stubborn, that I was the reason he'd been pushed somewhere dangerous.
I looked after his paralyzed father in his place, and it wasn't until the old man was dying that the truth slipped out.
Brett had taken my stepsister down south a long time ago.
The little girl tugged at his sleeve. "Daddy, who is she?"
He looked at me, a flicker of panic in his eyes.
I answered for him. "A lady who mistook me for someone else."
...
Brett pulled the little girl behind him.
"Sara, let me explain." He'd dropped his voice.
"No need." I looked at him. "You mix it pretty well."
"That case ran too deep." His tone turned suddenly grave.
"They ordered me to go under. I didn't have a choice."
"This child is the informant's orphan. I had to take responsibility for her."
He looked into my eyes.
"I always meant to come back for you once things settled down, but it stayed complicated the whole time."
If Brett's father hadn't burned up with fever at the end, grabbing my hand and crying out the truth,
I probably really would have believed this righteous little speech of his.
"Brett, is the formula ready?"
The nursing room door pushed open, and a woman walked in.
It was Elisa Fox, my stepsister, only half a year younger than me.
When she saw me, her steps jerked to a halt, and the color drained from her face in an instant.
"S-Sara?" Elisa instinctively shrank behind Brett.
Brett moved with her, stepping in front to shield her.
"Elisa is a key witness in the case too." He said it to me without a flicker of change on his face.
"To protect her, I had no choice but to keep her with me."
"Sara, you're a reasonable person. You of all people can understand how little say I had in this."
I looked at the six-figure Bvlgari necklace at Elisa's throat.
Then at the limited-edition flats on her feet.
So this was what he meant by living under a false name to protect a witness.
I glanced down at my own coat, the cuffs washed pale.
Old clothes I'd worn for four years to save money for the imported specialty drugs for Brett's father.
"Mm, I understand." I nodded.
Brett seemed to let out a breath.
"I knew it. You always understand me best."
He reached out, meaning to pat my head.
"Your father passed last month." I looked into his eyes.
Brett's pupils shrank all at once, and his body swayed.
"He went peacefully. He didn't suffer much." I added.
"Sara, I'm sorry." His voice trembled faintly and his eyes reddened.
"These six years have been hard on you."
"Once I finish the last of what I'm handling, I'll bring Elisa back."
"I'll marry you the right way, give you everything I owe you."
Behind him, Elisa gave the hem of his shirt a small tug, biting her lower lip, saying nothing.
Brett reached back and patted the back of Elisa's hand, telling her not to worry.
"You don't need to feel you owe me anything." I looked at their overlapping hands.
"The medical bills and the funeral costs, I covered them with the rent from that old house in your father's name."
"The rest of the money, I transferred to your old card."
Brett frowned.
"Sara, why are you settling accounts with me like this?"
"What's mine is yours. Just take it and use it."
"No need." I turned and pushed open the nursing room door.
"Don't contact me again. Let's just say we never met."
"Sara Simmons!" He called my name behind me.
"You really have to throw a fit at me at a time like this?"
"I told you, I'll come back once the mission's over. Can't you be a little sensible?"
I didn't look back. I walked straight into the airport crowd.
Over the speakers, they were announcing that the flight to Riverton had begun boarding.
I touched the one-way ticket in my pocket.
Ashford. I would never come back.
2: 2
The plane broke through the clouds, and I leaned against the window.
My phone had buzzed once right before takeoff.
A message from Brett, sent from that old number of his, the one that had supposedly been canceled long ago.
"Sara, back at the airport today, Elisa was terrified."
"She's timid. She can't take that kind of shock."
"Don't blame her. Back then I forced her to leave with me. She's a victim too."
"Give me half a year. I'll make this right, I promise."
I looked at those few lines on the screen and felt sick.
When word of his disappearance reached the police bureau back then, everyone assumed he'd died in the line of duty.
No body, no note. Just a bloodstained uniform.
I searched the border for him for three months.
It wasn't until Julian had a sudden stroke and ended up paralyzed in bed that I had no choice but to go back to Ashford.
Every day after work, it was the endless routine of turning him, sponging him down, feeding him.
I never once complained.
Because before Brett left, he'd held me and said it.
"Sara, take care of Dad for me. I'll be back soon to marry you."
I got through more than two thousand days and nights on the strength of that one sentence.
Until last month, when Julian, in his final hours, gripped my hand with tears streaming down his old face.
"Sara, stop waiting. That worthless piece of trash doesn't deserve you."
"He's not dead. He took your stepsister and went off to live the good life."
"It was selfish of me. I wanted someone to keep caring for me, so I hid it from you all this time."
I just calmly slid my hand free, tucked the blanket in around him, and watched the line on the monitor go flat.
The plane touched down in Riverton, and I wheeled my suitcase out of the airport.
Nobody here knew me.
I rented a small studio downtown and found a part-time job at a flower shop.
Every day I trimmed stems and wrapped bouquets, and life passed quiet and orderly.
Brett's messages still came through now and then.
"Sara, walked past a jewelry store today and saw a necklace that would look perfect on you."
"When I'm back, I'll put it on you myself."
The photo was of an ordinary silver necklace, the price tag still uncut.
I swiped out of the chat and opened Elisa's social media.
Just an hour earlier, she'd posted a selfie.
Around her neck was a diamond necklace worth a small fortune.
The caption read: "Someone says he's going to give me all the best things in the world."
I looked at that post and tapped like.
Then I muted Brett's chat.
Half a month later.
That evening, I was watering a pot of hydrangeas.
The wind chime rang. Someone pushed the door open.
"Welcome." I didn't look up.
"Wrap me a bunch of red roses."
The familiar voice came from above me. My hand froze on the spray bottle, and I raised my head.
Brett stood in front of me, in a faded, worn-out jacket.
He looked haggard.
"Sara? What are you doing here?"
He strode over, arms out to hug me.
I stepped back and looked at him across the counter.
"Buying flowers? Red roses are a hundred and twenty a bunch."
His hands hung frozen in the air, and something wounded flickered in his eyes.
"Sara, are you still angry with me?"
"I told you, it was a mission. I couldn't blow my cover."
"This time I snuck back just to see you."
He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and pushed it toward me.
"I bought this for you with allowance I'd saved up for a long time."
I glanced at the box.
Lying inside was the very same silver necklace he'd sent me half a month ago.
"Thanks. I don't need it." I went on trimming the stems in my hand.
"Sara, don't be like this." A note of pleading crept into his voice.
"These six years I've been living on a knife's edge every day. I never once slept easy."
"There's only ever been you in my heart."
I set down the shears.
He carried a faint smell of baby powder.
The mark left from holding a child every day.
"You came to find me. What do you want?" I asked, straight out.
Brett was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting away.
"Dad's old house. Could you transfer it to my name first?"
"Something came up with my informant. I need a sum of money to smooth it over."
"Once things blow over, I'll pay you back double."
To buy Elisa a diamond necklace, he'd even scheme over a dead man's money.
"All right," I said, and nodded.
3: 3
Brett froze for a second.
"Sara, I knew it. You'll always be the one I can count on."
He reached across the counter and took my hand.
"Once I wrap up this job, we'll get married."
"I'll buy you a big house with a garden. I'll give you a good life."
I lowered my eyes to the faint ring mark on his finger.
"When do we go do the paperwork?" I pulled my hand back and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter.
"The sooner the better." He dropped his voice.
"Tomorrow morning. I'll have the documents ready. Meet me at the county property office."
"Fine." I gave a short reply and turned to straighten the lilies in the corner.
Brett lingered in the shop a while.
The phone in his pocket started buzzing.
He glanced at the screen, his face shifting, and quickly hit decline.
"It's my informant. I have to go." He rushed the explanation out.
"See you tomorrow, Sara."
He pushed the door open and hurried off into the night.
I watched his back disappear around the corner, then took out my phone and opened Elisa's feed.
Five minutes ago, Elisa had posted something.
"Baby's running a fever, and a certain someone is still out there busy. So frustrated."
Attached was a photo of a thermometer.
I turned off the phone and dropped the wrapped bundle of red roses into the trash.
The next morning, I showed up at the county property office right on time.
Brett got there before me, in a baseball cap and a black mask.
When he saw me, he came over quickly, a stack of documents in his hand.
"Sara, I've filled everything out. You just need to sign."
He handed me the pen.
In the box for the receiving account, there was an unfamiliar name: Hudson Fox.
That was Elisa's father. My stepfather.
"The informant's account can't be exposed, so we're just routing it through this one for now."
Seeing me stare at the name, Brett leaned in quickly.
"I understand." I didn't call him out. I picked up the pen and wrote my own name on the signature line.
The process went smoothly. The transfer was done in under an hour.
Brett held the receipt and let out a long breath.
He turned and looked at me.
"Sara, I'm sorry. I know this has been hard on you."
"When I come back, I'll make it up to you. I promise."
He reached out to hug me. I stepped aside and dodged him.
"I still have to get back to the shop. I'm going."
I didn't look at him. I walked straight toward the exit of the hall.
"Sara!" he called after me. "Wait for me!"
I didn't turn around. I pushed the glass door open and stepped out into the harsh sunlight.
Out of the property office, I didn't go back to the flower shop.
Instead, I took a cab to the department's records office in the next district over.
"Hi, I'm here to cancel a registration on the grounds of death."
I passed Julian's death certificate through the window, along with the court's declaration-of-death ruling for Brett Delgado.
The clerk went through the documents carefully.
"Missing for four years, and the court has declared him dead. The registration can be canceled."
"Do you confirm the cancellation? Once it's done, he'll be a dead man in the eyes of the law."
"I confirm." My voice stayed level.
The printer hummed, and a certificate stamped with a bright red official seal slid out.
"Our condolences. The residency registration has been canceled."
I took the paper, folded it carefully, and slid it into the inner pocket of my bag.
Out the front doors of the records office, the traffic roared past on the street.
I stood beside a trash can and took out the old phone I'd used for six years.
The screen lit up with a message Brett had just sent on WhatsApp.
"Sara, the money's in the account."
I looked at that line and didn't reply. I pulled the SIM card straight out.
Then I threw it, old phone and all, into the trash.
The screen glowed for a few seconds next to half a rotting apple, then went completely dark.
