Page 56 of False Heir

I told myself this wasn’t the time for sentimentality.

I took a deep breath and stepped into action, my arms wrapping firmly around the leather handles of my bags. The weight of them was nothing compared to the burden I felt lifting from my shoulders with each step towards the door of my apartment. This place too, which had once my sanctuary, had become a beautifully gilded cage. I couldn’t shake the sense of dread that clung to the walls, the memories that hovered in the corners like unwelcome specters.

I took the elevator down to the first floor after texting my sister I was almost ready.

“Need a hand?” Carmen’s voice cut through the stillness of my retreat, her presence a vibrant force in the muted confines of the lobby.

“Thanks,” I managed, the word a life raft thrown into the turbulent sea of my emotions. She reached out, her fingers brushing against mine as she relieved me of one of the bags. The simple touch grounded me, reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this.

We didn’t speak as we navigated the short distance to the exit. The silence wasn’t awkward but comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that only sisters could share. It was the calm before the storm, a moment suspended in time where the chaos of our reality could not reach us.

As the door closed behind us, sealing off the chapter of my life that had unfolded within those walls, something remarkable happened. The tightness in my chest eased, the air seemed fresher, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I could see a sliver of light on the horizon—a light that signified hope.

This wasn’t how I wanted it. This was…I wanted Tristan in my life. But I couldn’t do this right now, and he knew why.

“Ready?” Carmen asked, her eyes meeting mine with an unwavering determination.

“Ready,” I echoed, feeling the power of the word reverberate through me. With that, we stepped out into the late morning, the sun high enough in the sky to promise the warmth of lunchtime soon to come. Boston stretched out before us, both familiar and daunting, but I was no longer afraid.

The hum of the city wrapped around us like a familiar tune as we made our way to Carmen’s car, parked just a stone’s throw from the entrance. The sleek lines of her vehicle seemed out of place among the drab buildings that clawed at the sky, trying to assert their presence.

“Let’s get out of here,” Carmen said, unlocking the car with a beep that cut through the ambient noise of the city.

I nodded, my throat too tight to form words. As I approached, she turned to me, and her warm smile was like a lifeline in rough seas. Without a word, she opened her arms, and I stepped into her embrace. It was safe there, in the circle of her strength. Here, I could allow the facade to crack, the tears that I had held at bay to finally escape their confines.

“Let it all out, Ade,” she whispered against my hair, her voice a soothing balm.

And so I did. My tears soaked into the fabric of her jacket, each droplet carrying away a piece of the weight I’d been carrying. After a moment that was both an eternity and a heartbeat, we pulled back from the hug, and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling lighter somehow.

“Blame the hormones,” I said.

“I think I’ll blame Tristan Callahan,” she replied, smiling at me.

I laughed. “Thanks, I needed that,” I managed a watery chuckle, trying to bring some levity back.

“Anytime,” she replied, her tone light but her eyes serious. “You know I’ve got your back.”

With a deep breath, I climbed into the passenger seat, the soft leather cradling me as Carmen slid behind the wheel. She started the engine, and we pulled away smoothly from the curb, leaving behind the shadows of The Fens.

As the buildings began to shrink in the rearview mirror, I couldn’t resist one last glance at the apartment complex that had been a symbol of my vulnerability this morning. It stood there, indifferent, yet somehow less menacing now. A sense of strength bubbled up within me, pushing aside the fear that had taken root. This place, once a breeding ground for paranoia, had become the backdrop for a turning point.

“Where to now?” Carmen asked, her eyes on the road ahead.

“Forward,” I said firmly, meeting her gaze for a brief second before returning my focus to the receding landscape. The future was a murky path, riddled with uncertainty, but I knew one thing for sure: with Carmen by my side, I was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

“Cool, but I meant like, my house?”

I smiled. “Yes. Like your house,” I said while I texted Tristan. Tristan, I’m heading to see Carmen. Need space after everything.

Love…

No. I deleted that, and sent just the first sentence.

As we drove through the city, my heart thrummed against my ribs like a bird desperate for the sky. Tristan wouldn’t be happy about this, but some part of me craved the chaos his anger would bring. At least it was a feeling I understood.

“Adriana, talk to me,” Carmen’s voice cut through my thoughts, her eyes flicking to mine with concern before returning to the road. She knew better than to push too hard, but her silence invited confession.

“Later,” I promised, knowing she’d hold me to it. Carmen never let anything slide, not when it mattered. The tension in the car wasn’t just from the heat blasting against the chill outside—it was expectation, thick as thieves.

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