She left him behind and never looked back again.
Chapter 5
There was a time when Aaron wouldn’t leave her alone.
Rachel never got a single love letter growing up–not one. And that was entirely Aaron’s doing.
At some point, he started leaving his clothes in her room. Then more. And more. Until
one day, half her closet was his.
He always joked that it was practical–easier to get dressed in the mornings when she was the one picking his shirts and ties.
She’d memorized his entire wardrobe without even trying. She knew which suit went with which tie, which fabric he liked against his skin, which color made his eyes stand
out.
It used to be second nature.
Now, as she ran up the stairs and shoved her door open, all she could feel was the sting
like someone had slapped her.
The room was a disaster zone.
Her clothes were scattered across the floor. Shoes tossed like trash. Makeup spilled, broken, ruined. It looked like someone had broken in and torn the place apart.
Rachel spun toward the hallway and shouted, “This is how you ‘grabbed a few clothes,‘
Sierra?!”
Sierra flinched, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “I–I’m sorry, Rachel. I didn’t mean to… I just got a little careless…”
“Careless?” Rachel laughed, incredulous. “This isn’t careless. This is what a hurricane
looks like!”
Aaron’s voice came from behind them, clipped and cold. “Rachel. Watch your tone.”
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She left him behind and never looked back again.
She turned, eyes narrowing. “So now I’m the one out of line? Again?”
“Sierra’s going to be your sister–in–law. Show her some respect.”
Rachel stared at him. “Respect? You should come see this for yourself.”
Aaron walked in.
He paused at the doorway–just for a second–as his eyes swept across the chaos.
Just one second.
THE
Then he smiled, not at the mess, but at her. “Yeah… maybe let the housekeepers handle things from now on, hmm?”
“But I hate when strangers touch my stuff,” Sierra pouted, twirling a strand of hair.
“Especially… my sleepwear.”
She lingered on the last word, eyes dropping shyly, her cheeks flushing.
Aaron gave a helpless little chuckle and nodded. “Alright, Alright. No strangers. I’ll do it myself, princess. You just lounge around and look pretty.”
Sierra giggled, sticking her tongue out playfully. “I’m totally useless, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said fondly. “But lucky for you, I’m completely okay with that.”
Rachel closed her eyes for a moment.
She had never hated a notice period this much in her life. If not for the stupid two–week handoff, she’d already be on a plane across the ocean–anywhere but here, watching
this twisted circus unfold.
Then Aaron turned back to her, tone neutral. “Rachel. Just tell me how much stuff Sierra damaged. I’ll cover it.”
That made her laugh. Cold. Bitter.
So now he was throwing money at her?
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She left him behind and never looked back again.
Aaron. Paying her off.
Sierra leaned in, nudging Rachel with a conspiratorial grin. “Come on, pad the number a little. He’ll pay whatever you say. Trust me–I’ll make sure of it.”
Aaron gave Sierra a playful glare. “Wow. Already scheming with the enemy?”
Excuse me,” Sierra gasped dramatically, then laughed. “I’m practically family now. Obviously, I’ve got Rachel’s back.”
Rachel
gave a dry laugh.
Family. Scheming. Enemy?
Funny, how easily those words got thrown around.
She wasn’t the girl he used to protect. Not the one he used to follow across continents,
just to be near.
She was just a foster wolf. An orphan. A charity case taken in by the Whitemoon Pack.
Nothing more.
Her phone rang. It was Edmund.
She steadied her voice and picked up. “Edmund?”
“Hey, Rachel. Remember that bird series you shot a few years ago? One of the editors
here asked to see it. You think you could send me the original film scans?”
“Sure,” she said. “Give me a second.”
She walked into her room, trying to focus, trying to push everything else out of her
head.
Rachel still used film cameras for most of her personal work. She kept all her negatives
in a locked drawer.
She reached for the key–but froze.
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She left him behind and never looked back again.
The entire cabinet was wet.
Before she could even process that, Sierra’s voice chimed from the doorway.
“Oops–Rachel, I’m really sorry. I spilled coffee earlier and it splashed onto your cabinet. I didn’t want it to stain, so I just… washed the whole thing with water. Hope that’s okay.”
Rachel’s heart dropped.
She didn’t say a word. Just unlocked the drawer.
The second she pulled it open, her stomach caved in.
Rows of negatives–years of work–were soaked.
Some were unraveling. Some had already lost their color. Others were knotted together like seaweed, floating in water turned a deep, dirty brown.
Three years.
Three years of her life–ruined. Gone.
All of it.
