Chapter 3: The Last Goodbye

Before leaving, Natalie made up for the slap I’d held back by landing it squarely on Lucas Grant’s face. Her hand trembled, but her eyes were steady—like she’d been waiting years for this. Facing his rage, Natalie pointed at her own cheek and leaned in. “Come on, if you’ve got the guts, hit me back.”

The sharp crack echoed across the porch. For a moment, nobody spoke. Even the cicadas outside seemed to go quiet. Lucas’s anger died on his lips, his hand frozen in mid-air. Rachel gasped, clutching his sleeve tighter. Natalie’s voice was low, trembling but strong—she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

The fury in his eyes was instantly extinguished, and under Rachel’s resentful glare, he did nothing in the end.

We left the Grant house, not picking up a single thing from the porch. The sun was blinding, but the air felt ten degrees colder as we walked away.

We walked out with our heads high, shoulders squared. The neighbors gawked, but I met every stare head-on. Natalie kept her eyes forward, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.

I noticed among the scattered items a gaudy hair clip, encrusted with all sorts of gold and silver—tacky and vulgar. It glittered garishly in the sunlight, the kind of thing that would get you laughed out of any fashion magazine. But I remembered the pride on Lucas’s face when he gave it to her, and the way Natalie had tried to hide her embarrassment. But to Natalie, it was proof that someone, once, had seen her as worth celebrating—even if the world never would.

Natalie thought it was ugly and refused to wear it, even scolding him for blowing money as soon as he got it. But I knew she always kept this hair clip separate in her jewelry box, taking it out to look at several times a day.

She’d never let anyone see, but late at night, I’d catch her holding it, turning it over in her hands, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. It was her secret, a memory she refused to let go of—no matter how much she claimed to hate it.

A pang of sadness hit me.

It was the kind of ache that creeps up on you when you realize something precious is lost for good. I looked at Natalie, wishing I could shield her from the hurt, but knowing all I could do was stand beside her.

“You didn’t take any jewelry or clothes—what did you take?”

I nudged her gently, trying to lighten the mood. She snorted, rummaging through her backpack, always practical to the end.

“Mainly all the cash I’ve saved up over the years. I was going to... forget it, can’t take it with me anyway, might as well spend it all.”

The words were casual, but her eyes were tired. I knew she’d planned for the future once, stashing every dollar like it could buy her a slice of freedom. Now, there was nothing left to save for.

I thought about it and realized she was right. So I sold off all my real estate, keeping only one place to stay.

I called my broker, set up listings, and watched as the offers rolled in. The money meant nothing now, but there was a strange comfort in knowing I’d beaten this world at its own game, even if just for a moment.

Unlike Natalie, I know well that ‘the coldest hearts are found in academia.’ From the moment I started following Sean Carter, I was like a squirrel, always stashing away reserves for myself. Modern knowledge is of limited use in this world, but making a small fortune isn’t hard. Houses, land, shops, paintings... every bit counts. Over the years, bit by bit, I’ve managed to become a minor rich lady.

I’d learned to play the system—flipping houses, investing in art, even buying up shares in the local diner. No one suspected the muscle-for-hire had a head for business. It was my little rebellion, my way of making sure no one could ever push me out.

Coming out of the pawnshop, I passed by the Blue Heron Tavern. I saw they were selling bourbon pecan pie. I couldn’t help but lose focus.

The scent of caramelized sugar and toasted pecans drifted out the open window, making my mouth water. I stood outside, watching as families laughed over slices of pie, the world moving on without me. Somebody played old country on the jukebox, and the bartender’s kid practiced spelling words at the end of the bar. For a moment, I felt like a ghost.

Sean Carter, who once couldn’t be without me for a moment, never came looking for me again after Rachel Sullivan returned.

Not a text, not a call, not even a half-hearted knock at my door. I waited, hoping he’d show up with some awkward apology, but the days just dragged by. I’d never felt so invisible.

For the next few days, Natalie and I lived in seclusion. I didn’t know what she was busy with, always buried at her desk. I, bored, went to the tavern to listen to gossip.

She filled notebooks with scribbled plans, her phone buzzing with calls I never overheard. I tried to distract myself with bar chatter—half the town seemed to pass through the Blue Heron, and their gossip was better than any soap opera.

I heard people say that Major General Grant took Miss Sullivan riding in the city park, but somehow the horse got spooked and threw Rachel off, injuring her arm. Lucas Grant actually shot the horse dead on the spot.

The bartender whispered the story over a glass of cheap bourbon. "They say he didn’t even hesitate," she told me, shaking her head. "One minute he was soothing Rachel, the next—bang. That poor horse never stood a chance."

Someone sighed, “That was a fine horse, a pure white Mustang. The general only had that one, said it had followed him for years. For a girl, he killed it without hesitation.”

An old rancher at the end of the bar chimed in, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d see the day. That horse was worth more than my truck.”

I gripped my whiskey glass, heart aching. I remembered Lucas bringing Natalie to the stables, grinning like a fool, promising her this horse was hers and hers alone. That horse had only ever let her climb onto its back—now, it was gone, just like every other piece of her life here.

I had no mood to stay, and gloomily returned to the motel. But Natalie was nowhere to be found. The manager hurried over. “Boss, Natalie was taken away by people from the Sullivan estate.”

I barely heard the rest of his words. My heart pounded in my chest, every muscle tense. Without thinking, I grabbed my jacket and sprinted out the door, cursing the Sullivans with every step.