Chapter Six: June

Oh, wow, ¿qué estaba esperando de él (What was I even expecting from him?) I slammed the door behind me, the echo a sharp punctuation to my frustration, and stormed out into the cold air. The streets were quiet, the kind of stillness that makes your thoughts louder.

Was I hoping he’d chase after me? Maybe just once, for him to say something that didn’t hurt? Everything’s so damn broken. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers trembling, and shot off a text to the lawyer:

“Congrats, I’m finally outside. Check the time—it’s exactly twelve. Let’s cancel our partnership immediately.”

The bitterness in the message mirrored the knot tightening in my chest. I sent it to Mr. Cranky without hesitation.

Spotting a cab, I waved it down and slid into the backseat, forcing a smile for the driver. “Airport, please,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice my puffy eyes or the heaviness I was dragging with me.

But no. His gaze lingered. Too long. “You okay, miss?” he asked, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

“I’m fine,” I lied, turning to stare out the window.

The city blurred by, gray and indifferent, as he pressed on. “Caught your husband with his lover, huh?”

My head snapped around, startled. “Excuse me?”

He nodded toward my hand. Damn it. The ring. I’d forgotten to give it back. “Lucky guess,” I muttered, my voice brittle.

He chuckled softly, though it lacked any real humor. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s written all over your face. Plus, all those bags... My wife did the same thing when she caught me cheating.”

His confession hung in the air between us like a thick cloud. Before I could respond, he nodded toward the mirror again. “By the way, miss, do you owe anyone money? Loan sharks or something?”

“What?”

“We’re being followed,” he said, his voice low. “Two cars. They’ve been on us since we left.”

My stomach flipped. I turned cautiously, catching sight of the shadowy vehicles trailing us. “Can you get me to the airport safely?” I asked, gripping the edge of my seat.

“Buckle up,” he said, his tone steely.

The cab lunged forward, the engine growling as he tried to lose them. My heart pounded in rhythm with the tires screeching against the asphalt. Out of nowhere, a car slammed into us, sending the cab spinning. My head hit the window with a sickening thud, and everything went dark.

________________________________________

Then I hear her voice—your mother’s voice—and a tidal wave of relief washes over me. I’m alive. Despite the throbbing pain in my head, the sting of my bruises, and the ache in my wrists from the ropes, I’m alive.

My eyes flick to Mr. Watson, who’s standing at the foot of the bed, his gaze sharp and unreadable. He looks at me like he’s trying to solve a puzzle, one he’s both too frustrated and too impatient to finish.

I sit up, swallowing the pain. “Well, I’m sorry to trouble you once more,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “but don’t worry. I know who did this to me, and I’ll tell the police everything.”

“Police?” His voice is a sharp bark, his face darkening as he steps closer. “Are you out of your mind, Miss Luper? Do you even hear yourself?” His words are clipped, his jaw tight with barely-contained fury. “Tell me who the fuck did this to you!”

I lean forward, forcing myself to meet his anger with my own. My voice trembles, more with frustration than fear. “Don’t you think I should go to the police? Isn’t that the right thing to do?”

He stares at me, incredulous, and then his voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Don’t even test me, Miss Luper. I’m holding back as it is. Just give me the fucking name.”

For a split second, I consider it. The name hovers on the tip of my tongue, but before I can say it, a loud crash interrupts us. Both of us flinch, turning toward the noise.

Stella is crouched on the floor, her delicate hands fumbling with shards of broken glass.

“What are you doing?” Watson snaps, his tone shifting instantly to concern. He strides over and grabs her hand before she can hurt herself. “You’ll cut yourself. Leave it. I’ll call someone to clean it up.”

Stella glances at me, her eyes wide and teary—though I can’t decide if it’s genuine or just another performance. Her lips tremble as she looks back at Watson. “Sorry for bothering you,” she whispers meekly.

Wait a second. Meek? Stella? The same woman who once tore into me over a misplaced comment? What game is she playing now?

To my surprise, Watson’s expression softens. He takes her hand in his, his voice low and almost tender. “Honey, do you really think I’d cheat on you?”

Ah, genial. Just brilliant. I roll my eyes, biting back the urge to gag. Clearing my throat loudly, I gesture toward the two other men standing awkwardly in the corner. “Ahem, can you guys take this conversation somewhere else?”

Watson nods, leading Stella out of the room. Her doe-eyed expression lingers in my mind longer than I’d like.

________________________________________

The moment they’re gone, I sink back against the pillows, letting out a long breath. The tension in the room dissipates, but the weight in my chest doesn’t. I glance around, searching for my phone, and find a new one sitting neatly on the nightstand. Odd. When I unlock it, I realize all my contacts are already loaded.

I dial Julia, my assistant, who picks up on the first ring.

“Miss Luper! Are you okay?” she exclaims, relief and concern mingling in her voice. “Your husband said you were kidnapped. I was praying for your safety.”

My stomach twists at the mention of my husband. “I’m fine,” I say quickly, cutting her off before she can ask too many questions. “Thank you for handling things at the office. I’ll be back soon. For now, prepare the details I asked for and call Mr. Jackson. Don’t mention my name. Make up something. I need to have a chat with him.”

“Do you think it was him?” Julia asks, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Should I call the police?”

Her earnest concern makes me laugh softly, though it comes out more as a dry chuckle. “No police, Julia. Just call him. I’ll handle it.”

________________________________________

After hanging up, I try to stand, but my body protests every movement. Rope marks circle my wrists, a reminder of how close I came to losing everything. My luggage is nowhere in sight, probably lost in the chaos of the accident.

I sift through the closet, pulling out the longest t-shirt I can find. I dial Mia while digging for something resembling pants.

“What’s up, baby?” Mia answers, her tone breezy.

“Hey,” I say, trying to mask the exhaustion in my voice. “I need a favor. Can you send me some clothes? I lost everything in the accident.”

There’s a muffled sound on the other end, followed by her laughing. “Baby, hold on a sec,” she says, her voice dropping. “Yes, June, sweetie, as I was saying... I’m occupied right now.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re having sex, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she says unapologetically.

“Forget it. I’ll figure it out,” I say, suppressing a laugh.

“No, wait,” she says quickly. “I’ll get Harper to bring you something from the shop. Text her the address.”

________________________________________

After a quick shower, I pull on the oversized shirt and glance at the clock. Time feels slippery, like it’s rushing past me while I’m stuck in place. Before leaving, I scribble a note and leave it on the table:

"I am so grateful for your kindness. I don’t know how to repay you, but I will someday. It’s not right for me to stay here. I’ll repay my mother’s debt soon. Please have a peaceful life with Miss Stella. Thank you for everything. Let’s not meet again."

With that, I step out of the room, leaving the tangled mess of emotions and memories behind me.