###Chapter 18
The seaside town was a fresh start. I’d just moved into a bright little apartment with wide windows that opened to a glimmering coastline in the distance.
No more of the suffocating Marks estate.
No more Piper, haunting the edges of every room like a bad dream.
Only freedom-mine, finally.
I loved painting.
Once, I’d imagined days spent traveling with Colin, sketchbooks and canvases strapped to our backs, chasing light through country roads and lazy old towns.
But all I ever got from him were curt dismissals: “Pointless,” or “I don’t have time.”
Somewhere after college graduation, I’d packed away my brushes-along with the last bit of passion I had for living.
But now? It felt like time to start again.
I’d rented a tiny corner storefront on a quiet street not far from the flat.
It was going to be my studio.
The first real space that belonged to me.
I threw myself into the renovation, working from sunrise to well after dark. My body ached, but something in my chest-something I’d forgotten-felt steady and full.
Even the bone-deep pain Colin left behind had started to fade.
That evening, I was driving back from a grocery run when I spotted an old man stumble and fall on the sidewalk near a lonely intersection. He tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled and gave out. I pulled over immediately, left my hazard lights blinking and ran to him.
“Sir, are you alright? Did you hit anything? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
I knelt beside him and gently reached for his arm to help him sit up.
“I’m alright, sweetheart,” he said weakly, voice rasping. “Just out for a stroll… didn’t expect the damn low blood pressure to hit like that…”
His breathing was shallow and his hands were shaking slightly.
I dug into one of the shopping bags, pulled out a box of chocolates, unwrapped one quickly and held it out to him.
“Here, have this. Sugar should help. Can I call someone for you? Family?”
At the mention of family, his face soured.
“Don’t bother. That ungrateful brat of a grandson barely shows up once a year. Left me alone in that damned big house like some forgotten antique.”
No wonder he was out here all alone.
Something in the sight of him-small, thin, a little broken-tugged at me.
I’d never met my own grandparents. The ones on Mom’s side died when I was young and I only
knew the stories.
But there was something about him that slipped past my ribs, quiet and soft and stuck there.
“I can drive you home,” I said, my voice a little gentler than before.
“Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to-especially this late.”
“It’s no trouble. I’m not in a rush. We can wait a bit till you feel stronger.”
I helped him to a bench under a streetlamp and he sat, chewing the chocolate slowly. Color started to return to his cheeks.
Then he looked up at me with a small, amused smile.
“If my idiot grandson ever managed to bring home a girl like you, I’d die a happy man.”
He shook his head with a sigh, but didn’t say more. I didn’t press him.
“You’re very kind,” I said quietly and we sat there for a moment. The wind picked up, cool against my face. Our shadows stretched long across the pavement.
A few minutes later, he pushed himself up using a cane.
“Alright then. Let’s get this old bag of bones home.”
“Careful,” I said, supporting him into the passenger seat of my car.
Following his directions, we drove for about twenty minutes-past the quiet town, into the hills- until we reached a grand wrought-iron gate. It swung open automatically.
Behind it stood a mansion. Not just a big house-a castle, practically. Ornate stonework, tall windows glowing with warm light and a fountain that glittered under the driveway lamps.
It made the Marks estate look like a suburban duplex.
As soon as I parked, a sharply dressed man who looked every bit the professional butler rushed out with a small staff behind him.
‘Sir! You can’t keep sneaking off like that! If your grandson finds out-what are we supposed to
tell him?”
Then he turned to me, panic softening into gratitude.
‘Miss, thank you so much for bringing him back. We’re deeply grateful.”
‘It’s nothing,” I said with a smile. “I’m just glad he got home safe.”
I started to turn, but the old man suddenly reached out and caught my wrist.
19
