Page 3 of The Billionaire I Left Behind

I let the phone slip from my hand to the table. Grandma’s house, once full of life, now feels empty, and quiet in a way that’s almost suffocating.

I breathe in, trying to steady myself, but I can’t shake the confusion swirling in my mind. I look around, but nothing makes sense.

I push myself away from the table, realizing that my hands are still shaking. As I walk out of the kitchen, my feet carry me without any thought on my end. My mind drifts back to the past, to the days when this house had been full of warmth and noise. To the days when Bryan was a part of it, before everything fell apart.

My fingers graze the banister as I walk through the house, each touch sending a wave of nostalgia through me. The house is weathered, the wood creaky beneath my feet, but I know every inch of it. Grandma’s fingerprints are all over the place: in the worn-out rug, the kitchen table where we’d shared meals, and the faded photographs on the walls.

I pause in front of one picture, a photograph of Grandma, beaming as she baked pies in the kitchen. I can almost hear the sound of her humming as she worked, the rich smell of cinnamon filling the air. My throat tightens.

Upstairs, my old room is just as it was when I was a teenager, untouched. Posters of horses still cover the walls, my wannabe junior veterinary books sit neatly on the shelf, and the quilt she made still drapes over the bed.

I step inside, feeling the weight of the past settle over me like a blanket. The bed creaks under my weight as I sit, the dust swirling in the air. It smells the same, musty with age, but oddly comforting. I sink into the mattress, my gaze falling to the bedframe. My fingers trace over the carving in the wood: B.L. + E.G.

Bryan. I hadn’t thought about that in years, hadn’t let myself. He carved it there when we were sixteen, his teasing laughter filling the room as I rolled my eyes at his antics. His smile was so easy back then. So carefree.

But then there’s the last memory. The last look I got from him before I left.

Now recalling the look in his eyes in the cemetery this morning, and how they were filled with cold judgment makes me shiver. I squeeze my eyes shut, wrap my arms around myself, the memory stabbing me like a blade.

Does he hate me? I can feel the weight of the question pressing down on my chest. I don’t deserve his forgiveness. I never did.

I whisper to myself, “I deserve his hate,” the words breaking as they leave my lips.

Tears sting my eyes, but I push them back. I can’t afford to fall apart now. Not here. Not with everything still hanging in the balance.

This house, this town, Ocean Bay it’s my chance for redemption. For a fresh start.

I clench my fists, determined. I’ll get my life together. I’ll open that vet clinic, no matter the odds. And I’ll make Grandma proud.

That's all that matters; there’s no point opening old wounds.

Chapter two

Bryan

The office is quiet. Too quiet.

I should be working, going through reports, analyzing numbers, chasing down my new fraud investigation case, but I haven’t turned a page in over an hour. The ledger in front of me blurs as my mind drifts, replaying the morning like a broken record.

Emma.

I rub my chest, but the ache doesn’t fade. I should have been prepared to see her. After all, it was her grandmother's funeral.

I still can't stop thinking about when my eyes locked on hers, wide, startled, unreadable something cracked open that I wasn’t ready for.

Thirteen years. And yet, it still hit me like a wrecking ball.

A sigh drifts from the below. Buddy stretches out on his dog bed next to my desk, paws twitching in his sleep. Lucky mutt. He doesn’t have to deal with this mess.

My phone buzzes and I grab it, grateful for the distraction. Nate.

I put him on speaker. “Yeah?”

“How’d the funeral go?” Nate asks, his tone softer than usual.

“Fine.”

He exhales. “Wish I could’ve been there. You know how much I liked Gracie. She always made me those delicious apple turnovers.”

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