Chapter 223 Chapter 223.

The old apartment looked smaller than Kylie remembered. She parked outside the building and sat for several seconds, staring at the entrance of the apartment building.

The same place where Noah had attacked her.

Her stomach tightened.

She looked away.

"You don’t have to stay here," Emilia said.

Kylie opened her door.

"We could go to my dorm."

"No."

"My room is bigger than you think."

"I’m sure it is."

"There’s a perfectly good bed."

"Emilia."

"And I have snacks."

Kylie stared at her.

Emilia gave her a small, hopeful smile.

Kylie wanted to smile back, but she couldn’t. "Please stop."

Emilia’s smile faded.

Kylie opened the boot and removed her suitcase.

Emilia immediately reached for the handle. "I’ll carry it."

"I can carry my own suitcase."

"I know. Let me help anyway."

Kylie let go.

They entered the building together.

The elevator smelled faintly of dust and cleaning products. Someone had scratched a heart into the wall beside the buttons. Kylie stared at it until the elevator reached her floor.

She had never noticed that heart before.

When the doors opened, she walked down the corridor and stopped in front of her apartment.

She still had the key. She slid it into the lock. For a moment, she couldn’t turn it. Her fingers had gone strangely stiff.

She stared at the key.

It was just a key.

A small piece of metal. She had opened this door hundreds of times. Why couldn’t she do it now?

"Kylie?"

"I’m fine." She forced the key to turn, and the lock clicked.

She pushed the door open.

The apartment was exactly as she had left it.

The curtains were drawn. A cushion lay on the floor beside the couch. The coffee table still held an old magazine and a coaster she had bought because it reminded her of Emilia.

The kitchen counter was bare.

The moment she stepped inside, she felt the first sharp stab of regret. She felt alone.

Emilia carried the suitcase into the living room.

Kylie shut the door behind them. For several seconds, she stood with her back against it. She pushed away from the door and walked toward the couch.

"Go back to your dorm, Emilia," Kylie snuffed.

Emilia set the suitcase down. "Please, Kylie. Let me stay."

Kylie turned. "Are you serious?"

Emilia dropped onto the couch. She crossed her legs and folded her arms. "I’m not leaving."

Kylie stared at her. "You can’t just invite yourself into my apartment."

"Technically, you invited me when you let me into your car. And I’ve done this a thousand times."

Kylie let out an exasperated breath. "Please," she said, her voice low. "Just go."

Emilia’s expression softened. "Kylie—"

"Please, Emilia." The second plea was quieter.

Emilia stood slowly.

Kylie turned toward the bedroom. She didn’t want to watch her leave.

She didn’t want to hear anything that required her to believe in tomorrow.

She heard Emilia move toward the door. Then she heard her stop.

"Kylie?"

Kylie kept walking.

"I love you."

Her footsteps faltered.

Emilia continued. "You know that, right?"

Kylie stared at the bedroom doorway. "Yes."

"And none of this changes that."

Kylie closed her eyes.

"Call me if you need me." Emilia added. "I’ll go down the street to get something."

Kylie didn’t answer.

The door opened, and then closed. And just like that, she was alone. She stood in the hallway for several seconds, listening to the silence.

She walked back into the living room and sat on the floor beside the couch. She pulled her knees toward her chest and rested her forehead against them.

She simply sat there, listening to the quiet apartment.

Her phone lay beside her on the floor.

She picked it up. The screen lit. There were ninety-nine plus missed notifications. She turned it facedown.

She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to see her name beside another cruel headline. She didn’t want to know whether Christian had texted.

She didn’t want to know whether he had already fixed everything.

She didn’t want to know if he was hurting. Because if he was hurting, she would feel guilty.

And if he wasn’t, she would feel stupid. There was no answer she could bear.

She set the phone down.

Then, after a few seconds, she picked it up again. Her thumb moved over the screen.

She opened her messages.

Christian’s name was near the top.

Their last conversation had been about something ridiculous. She couldn’t even remember what.

She stared at his name.

She wanted to send him a message.

Something simple. Something that didn’t require her to admit she was falling apart.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Finally, she locked her phone, and she placed it on the coffee table and stood. She needed a shower. A long one.

Hot water with the doors closed. She needed to wash the morning off her skin again. She took a step toward the bathroom.

Her phone began ringing.

Kylie stopped. She glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number. She ignored it.

The ringing stopped.

She continued toward the bathroom.

A few seconds later, the phone rang again. It was the same number.

She frowned.

Her stomach tightened. She crossed the room and picked up the phone. The call was still coming through.

She considered blocking the number.

Reluctantly, she answered. "Hello?"

For a moment, there was only silence. A faint sound came through the speaker.

"Kylie?"

Her entire body went still.

No. It couldn’t be. She stared at the wall.

The voice came again.

"Kylie, sweetheart?"

Her fingers tightened around the phone. She knew that voice. She knew it better than she wanted to.

Her father.

Kylie pulled the phone away from her ear. Her thumb moved toward the red button.

"Kylie, don’t hang up." His voice came from the other end, knowing what she was about to do.

She ended the call.

For a moment, she stood completely motionless. Then she let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.

Of all the people who could have called her today. Of all the people in the world.

Her father.

She stared at the screen. Her first instinct was to block the number. Her second was to throw the phone against the wall. Her third was to sit down because her knees had started trembling.

She did none of those things.

She stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for her heart to stop racing.

It didn’t.

The phone rang again. This time, she flinched. It was a new number. He had always been good at finding ways around closed doors.

Kylie stared at the screen until the ringing stopped.

Then a message appeared.

Unknown number: Please, Kylie. Just hear me out.

She felt sick. She deleted the message, and another one arrived.

Unknown number: I know you’re there. Answer the phone.

Her stomach twisted. She wanted to turn the phone off. She wanted to throw it away and buy another one.

Her phone rang again. Kylie shut her eyes. She could let him call until he gave up.

Her thumb moved, and she answered.

"Hello?"

There was a brief pause at the other end, then a soft laugh. "I was beginning to think you’d forgotten your father."

Kylie said nothing. She stared at the wall. "What do you want?"

"Is that how you greet me?"

"Yes."

"I see you haven’t changed."

Kylie pressed her free hand against her stomach. She expected him to be a little kinder. Particularly after she saw him with his wife at the movies. "Don’t call me again."

"Now, now. I haven’t even said anything."

She looked toward the window.

The curtains were still drawn. A thin line of sunlight slipped through the gap, cutting across the floor.

She focused on it. She focused on the dust floating in the light. Anything but the voice in her ear.

"How have you been, sweetheart?"

"Fine."

"Good. That’s good."

Almost casually, he added, "So, I hear you’re involved with a billionaire now."

Kylie stopped breathing.

Her father laughed softly at the other end. "You have a taste, honestly. You go after billionaires now?"