Page 7 of The Billionaire I Left Behind

Silence lingers for a beat too long before Nate, mercifully, shifts the mood. He taps his phone, putting Liam on speaker.

“Best uncle’s still up for grabs, Lawson,” Liam chimes in.

I scoff. “Dream on, West. My rocket kit trumps your overpriced tech gadgets.”

“Pfft,” Liam drawls. “You don’t know what I got him yet.”

Max, mouth full, yells, “Tell me, Uncle Liam!”

Liam chuckles. “Nice try, buddy. It’s a surprise.”

Laughter ripples around the table, but mine fades fast. Liz shifts gears. “How was Gracie’s funeral? We left flowers at her grave.”

I nod, throat tight. “That was nice of you.”

Nate, softer now, adds, “She was good to us all.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “She was.”

Liz hesitates, then carefully asks, “Did you see Emma?”

I shrug, keeping my tone nonchalant. “Yeah, briefly.”

The anger flares anyway. Emma’s presence brings it back fresh, the sharp edge of betrayal slicing through me like it happened yesterday.

Liz’s eyes narrow. But thankfully she doesn't push it.

After dinner, Nate and I step onto the porch, the night air cool against my skin. The stars glint over the bay, the waves a quiet murmur in the distance.

“You okay?” Nate asks.

I nod. “Fine.”

He studies me for a beat. “Heard Emma’s moving back in town now.”

I freeze.

The words knock something loose inside me, but I shove it down. I mask it. “Her business, not mine.”

Nate hums, unconvinced. But my gut twists.

Emma staying in Ocean Bay means I can’t pretend she doesn’t exist. Can’t convince myself she’s just a ghost from the past.

Nate, sensing the shift in my mood, lets it drop. He leans against the railing. “Got a real estate tip, small city, Boise maybe. High potential. Told Liam and he’s in. Your call?”

I nod, barely processing. “I trust you. Most of my portfolio’s your picks anyway.”

We talk about the funding, just a couple million, but my mind is elsewhere. Driving home, my grip on the wheel is tight, Nate’s words echoing in my head.

She’s staying.

Buddy sighs from the passenger seat, stretching out, oblivious to the storm in my head. My phone buzzes. A text from Henshaw.

"Don’t be late tomorrow."

I mutter, “What the heck’s going on?” dread and curiosity warring inside me.

Chapter three

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