Page 72 of His to Possess
Remy stepped into the surrounding chaos, his footsteps echoing in the vault as he moved to check the rest of the apartment. I remained frozen, caught between two realities—the controlled world I had always known, and the unpredictable whirlwind Laurel had brought into my life.
I closed my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of our last encounter. The silent challenge, the vulnerability I had allowed myself to show. And then, nothing. I had pushed her away, retreated into my shell of control and perfection. But why? What had I been so afraid of?
I had been afraid of losing control, of letting her see the real me, and in doing so, I may have lost her forever.
"You need to check your bedroom," Remy stated, his tone leaving no room for debate.
The words jolted me from my spiraling thoughts. I nodded, a quick, jerky movement, and strode past him. My heart pounded against my ribcage as I approached my bedroom door.
I pushed the door open, my eyes immediately drawn to my bed. There, in the center, lay my mother's album. The sight of it sent a shock through my system. That sacred, painful piece of my past, left out in the open. My throat tightened as I approached, noticing a note beside it.
With trembling fingers, I reached for the paper. Laurel's handwriting stared back at me, each word a dagger to my heart.
"Thank you for your help, Rex. You're a good man, don't forget it. You deserve to be happy. Good luck. Laurel."
I read it once, twice, three times. The words blurred as my vision swam. This wasn't what I had expected. Where was the anger? The accusations? Instead, her words were laced with a warmth that burned me to my core.
Why was she thanking me? After everything I had done, everything she had seen, how could she still believe I was a good man?
A war raged inside me. Part of me wanted to crumple the note, to destroy this evidence of her kindness. But another part, a part I had kept buried for so long, clung to her words like a lifeline.
"You deserve to be happy."
Did I? After all the women I had collected, all the lives I had shaped to fit my twisted ideal of perfection, did I truly deserve happiness?
The finality of her words hit me like a freight train. "Good luck." It wasn't just a farewell; it was a goodbye. Laurel believed she wouldn't be coming back. The realization sent a wave of panic through me, threatening to overwhelm the fragile control I had maintained.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, the note clutched in my hand. My eyes drifted to my mother's album, and I was assaulted by memories.
The thought of Laurel poring over these painful memories, seeing the root of my obsessions, made me feel naked, exposed. But instead of using it against me, she had left with words of encouragement. It was a kindness I didn't deserve, one that cut deeper than any accusation ever could.
I ran my fingers over her words, tracing each letter as if I could somehow hold on to her through this small piece of paper. The urge to find her, to demand answers, to beg her to stay—it all welled up inside me, threatening to shatter me.
I turned to Remy, a curse slipping under my breath. The dread inside me compounded, twisting my gut into knots. "This isn't right." My fingers clenched around Laurel's note. "She wouldn't just leave. Not like this."
Remy looked back at me, unfazed. His calm only served to irritate me further. "You're letting this cloud your judgment." Despite the steadiness in his voice, I caught a flicker of concern in his eyes.
I fidgeted with the note, feeling the weight of Laurel's words. They seemed to hold some hidden meaning, a key to an answer that kept slipping through my fingers. My mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle she had left behind.
Suddenly, I remembered the hidden paper Laurel had fought so hard to keep from me during our challenge. The reason behind her determination to conceal it might be deeply connected to the truth of her departure. It was another piece of the puzzle, tantalizingly out of reach.
"Something's missing," I exclaimed, frustration boiling over. I refused to let these unmade connections leave me restless any longer. "There has to be more to this. Laurel wouldn't just vanish without a trace."
The atmosphere in the room thickened with tension. I was about to demand we search the penthouse again when Nolan strode in, his face overshadowed with urgency.
"I spoke to Shoji," he announced, his tone grave. "Laurel didn't leave any messages, but the last time your chauffeur picked her up, she went to meet August Mendelson."
The name hit me like a physical blow. August Mendelson. My rival, my enemy. The man who had been trying to get his claws into Laurel since the beginning. A cold fury washed over me, momentarily drowning out the ache of loss.
"August," I spat the name out like a curse. "What the hell does he have to do with this?"
Nolan's words sank in. August Mendelson. Cold terror flooded my veins, scattering any resolve I had left amid the confusing emotions swirling inside me.
"That bastard must know something."
The thought of Laurel with August set off alarm bells within me, a potent mixture of jealousy and fear coursing through my body. I had known August for years, seen the destruction he was capable of. The idea of him anywhere near Laurel made my skin crawl.
Nolan cleared his throat, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. "I have an idea," he said. "We could check Laurel's phone account. It might give us a lead on her whereabouts or recent contacts."
