Page 119 of His Greatest Treasure

“Nothing that’ll make you feel like you’ve made the right call, I’m sure. But you have, Avery. This is what’s best for both you and Nova.”

“I know that deep down. Nova needs stability and security in her life, not disappointment and uncertainty. But I also worry she’ll be upset with me. What if he tries to turn her against me for this?”

“If he dared try to do that, he’d disappear off the face of the Earth. That’s something else I’m sure of,” she declares.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered by the prospect of someone killing him for me.”

“Nobody said anything about killing.”

I breathe a laugh and pat my hands on the door. “You don’t have to wait for me while I do this.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“Alright. Be right back,” I say with a final calming inhale that doesn’t help settle me in the slightest.

“Pin his ass to the wall, Avery. He deserves it.”

I carry her words with me up Chris’ sidewalk and into the entrance of his apartment building. With a jab of my finger to the number of his apartment on the keypad, I wait for him to buzz me in.

After the text I sent him an hour ago, he’s expecting me. But even so, he keeps me waiting down in the entrance for three minutes before unlocking the door for me.

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter.

There’s no elevator in this place, so I take the stairs, climbing the two flights of them slower than ever as I repeat my speech in my mind another three times.

It’s memorized, but I know the moment he opens his mouth and starts speaking, I’ll forget every word I’ve rehearsed. His anger will trigger my fight or flight, but I’ll stay and fight like I always do. Harder now than I ever did before.

The door to his apartment is already open when I hit the third floor and start down the hall. Arms crossed and his back leant against the doorframe, he keeps me in his sight and watches every step I take toward him.

In his usual jeans and hoodie, he looks lanky. The opposite of Oliver.

“Who drove you here?” is the first thing he asks me.

“Hello, Chris.”

He moves aside to let me in before closing the door. “It’s a nice car. Yours?”

“No. It’s Oliver’s mother’s car.”

“Of course it is.”

I’m too busy taking in the sight of the home I haven’t seen the inside of in years to respond to his goading words.

While the building itself is outdated, the owners have done a good job of keeping the apartments themselves updated. There’s a small L-shaped kitchen with a single-doored white fridge and an oven to match, nice windows that overlook a man-made swamp, and a small but cozy living space that used to be covered head to toe in family photos but is now empty, bland.

Surrey holds a number of memories for me, majority of which were made here, in this apartment. But this isn’t the place it was then, and it never will be again.

“Where do you keep all of Nova’s things? Locked away in her room?” I ask bluntly.

“They make the place feel smaller. When she’s not here, they’re put away.”

“Is that the real reason, or do you just not want those you invite over to know you have a daughter at all?”

His nostrils flare. “If you’ve already made your own conclusions, why bother asking?”

The papers in my hand grow heavier, every slight crinkle of them reminding me of why I came here. The forty-five-minute drive from Vancouver to Surrey isn’t going to be wasted.

With one large step forward, I shove the papers into his chest and wait for him to reach for them before hissing, “This is our new custody agreement. Read it over and sign by every tabbed line. If you don’t agree, we’ll try mediation, and if that still doesn’t work, we’ll go to a judge next. But you will never, ever threaten me with our daughter again, Chris. Is that clear?”

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