Chapter 9

I didn’t look back when the plane took off. I didn’t need to. There was nothing left in that place for me–just ashes of a life I had burned down with one signature.

London welcomed me with a soft drizzle and gray skies. It wasn’t home, but maybe that was the point. I didn’t know a soul here, and yet, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe. No one knew my name. No one expected anything. I could just exist.

I walked the streets aimlessly that first morning, bundled in a scarf, eyes drawn to the window displays of boutiques and fabric shops. Every mannequin reminded me of something I used to dream about, back when I believed I could become something. Before Alex. Before the four walls of his mansion closed around me like a prison.

I remembered it so clearly–how I gave it all up.

“Lindsey,” he had said one night after dinner, cupping my hands in his, “you don’t need to work anymore. Let me take care of you. Stay home. Relax. I’ll give you the world.”

The world. But somehow, “the world” looked like long days alone in a big, silent house, waiting for a man who never really saw me. I said yes because I thought love was enough. I regretted it every single day.

Now, as I walked past fabric shops, I could feel that old passion stirring again–like a flame reigniting after years of smoke. I bought a small sketchpad, the first in years, and found myself doodling designs over tea in a quiet café. The air was different here. Brisk. Honest. It felt like a place where I could start over.

For days, I wandered without a plan. I watched, I listened, I dreamed. No one asked where I’d been. No one cared about the Hale name. It was freedom.

Until my phone buzzed.

Unknown number. I stared at it. I didn’t answer.

But then a text followed.

‘It’s me–Alex’s mother. Please call when you can. I need to hear your voice.’

My stomach twisted. She had always been kind to me. She treated me like a daughter in ways Alex never truly understood. Still, part of me wanted to ignore it. I had run for a reason. But another part of me–one that still clung to the slivers of warmth she’d shown me–couldn’t.

So I called. She picked up on the first ring.

“Lindsey?” her voice was soft, like a hug over the phone. “Darling, how are you?”

I hesitated. “I think it’s better if I don’t answer that.”

She sighed gently. “I understand. But please… just talk to me. You don’t have to say much. I just wanted to hear you. You’ve been in my thoughts every day since the gala.”

I stayed quiet, my fingers trembling slightly.

“I knew something was wrong,” she continued. “I just didn’t know it had gone this far. You didn’t deserve this. Any of it.”

And suddenly, just like that–I was crying. The tears came without warning, burning hot down my cheeks as I tried to hold them in.

“I gave up everything for him,” I whispered. “I thought… I thought if I loved him hard enough, he’d stay. I thought he was my home.”

Her voice cracked on the other end. “He doesn’t deserve your tears, Lindsey.”

I wiped my face with my sleeve, but the sobs wouldn’t stop now.

“It was Sasha,” I admitted. “He was planning to leave me for her. She was always in the picture. I just didn’t want to see it.”

There was a pause. Then I heard her curse under her breath. Not softly either, like a mother who’d just found out her son wasn’t who she thought he was.

“That woman,” she growled. “And Paula. I should have stopped this earlier. I should’ve trusted my instincts.”

Her voice softened again. “You listen to me, sweetheart. You don’t need to come back, but you are not alone. I was your mother-in-law, yes, but I was your mother’s friend long before I even met Alex. I loved your mother, and I love you. Don’t forget that.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.

“Don’t you worry,” she added. “If it’s revenge you want, I’ll help you. You focus on healing. I’ll take care of the rest.”

A watery laugh escaped my lips.

“Oh–and don’t be surprised if I find someone new for you,” she teased. “Someone who actually deserves you.”

We ended the call a few minutes later. I sat there for a while in a small corner shop, just breathing, just letting the pain run through me.

I hadn’t even noticed how loudly I had cried until a soft voice spoke from beside me.

“Excuse me,” the man said gently, holding out a folded handkerchief. “You look like you could use this.”

I looked up, startled.