Chapter 133

~ Clinton ~

The door to my apartment clicked shut behind me with a hollow finality that echoed through the empty space. The city lights outside the windows cast long, fractured shadows across the floor, but they did nothing to chase away the darkness clinging to every corner of my mind. I couldn’t shake the weight of the last twenty-four hours—the gun pressed to my skull, the bat cracking against my head, the gravelly voice promising that one more step into Octavia’s accident would end me. Exhaustion pressed down like a physical force, yet sleep remained a distant stranger. Instead of collapsing onto the couch, I paced the living room, phone already in hand, and dialed Trudy. She picked up almost immediately, her voice warm and familiar, a lifeline in the storm.

"Hello, Clinton," she greeted, the sound of her smile carrying clearly through the line.

"Hey, Trudy. Have you reached here?" I asked, sinking onto the edge of the sofa, the leather cool beneath my palms.

"Yes, I did—early this morning, actually. I texted you," she replied, a note of mild surprise in her tone.

"No, you didn’t," I muttered, shaking my head even though she couldn’t see it. My thumb scrolled through my messages on instinct, and there it was: her text confirming she’d arrived safely at the estate. Had I really been so consumed by paranoia that I’d missed it? I always replied to her—always. The oversight sent a fresh wave of unease through me. "Hold on," I told her, staring at the screen. "I just saw it now. I’m sorry I didn’t reply back." The words tasted heavy with guilt.

"It’s all right," she said gently, though I could hear the concern threading through. I sighed again, the sound rougher than I intended, and she caught it immediately. "Hearing how your sigh sounds is making me worried. Are you okay, Clinton?"

"I’m fine," I lied, rubbing the bruise on my side that still throbbed beneath my shirt. "Just busy with work. Didn’t get any sleep last night."

"Why? Everything okay?" Her voice sharpened with maternal instinct, the kind that had always seen through my half-truths.

"Yeah, everything’s fine... it’s just one of those nights where your mind won’t shut off for no good reason," I said, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel. The truth—that I’d been kidnapped, threatened at gunpoint, and warned away from Octavia’s case—would only drag her into the danger circling me. I couldn’t do that to her.

"Okay, just take it easy," she urged, and I could picture her nodding on the other end, the way she always did when she worried but chose not to push too hard.

"Anyway, you must be wondering what the surprise I brought for you was," she continued, shifting to a brighter tone, clearly trying to lift the mood.

"No need to tell me—I already know," I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips for the first time in days.

"Hmm, really?" She sounded intrigued, almost playful.

"Yes. You brought Annie back to New York. She’s the surprise, am I right?" I asked, leaning back against the cushions as the city hummed faintly beyond the glass.

I heard her gasp softly. "How do you know?"

"She posted a picture on Instagram—of her staring out the plane window with this huge smile. The caption said, ’After over a decade, I’m back to the Big Apple, baby!’ It pretty much gave the whole thing away."

"And I told her not to post that picture yet," Trudy sighed, a mix of exasperation and fondness in her voice. "And yet she did."

"You know how rebellious she can be," I chuckled, the sound surprising even me. It felt good—brief, but real—cutting through the heavy fog of threats and secrets that had wrapped around me since the ambush.

"Annie... that girl," Trudy sighed again, but there was warmth beneath it, the kind that came from years of loving someone who refused to be boxed in.

"Anyway, how’s she doing? She’s at the estate, right?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know, even as my mind tugged back toward the shadows lurking in my own life.

"In her old room, yes. She misses it more than she let on," Trudy replied softly. "Said the walls still feel like home after all this time."

"Well, I’m glad she’s back," I said, meaning it. Annie’s return was one bright thread in a tapestry that had turned dark and tangled.

"Yeah, me too," she agreed. "Though she mentioned she’ll start house hunting next week."

"Why? There are more than enough rooms in that estate to fill a small village. She doesn’t have to go hunting unless..." My voice hardened, protectiveness flaring hot and sudden. "Did my father tell her to leave? If he did, then I’ll—"

"Calm down, Clinton," Trudy cut in quickly, her tone soothing. "Your father didn’t tell Annie to leave. In fact, he welcomed her warmly—asked about her art, even offered to help with anything she needed. It’s Annie who decided she wants her own space. She’s independent, you know that."

I exhaled slowly, the tension easing just a fraction. "Okay. If that’s what she wants, then she can do it."

"Yeah," Trudy said, then paused before adding with gentle mischief, "Now that Annie’s here, I think this is the perfect time for you to come see her. You two should talk, go out, have fun... maybe even confess how you feel."

I chuckled again, the sound low and genuine. "We’ll talk, go out, have fun—that’s for certain. But why the confession part?"

"Because I know Annie loves you," she said simply. "And you... well, I know you still love her too."

"Oh, Trudy," I murmured, the words stirring something complicated in my chest.

"What? Aren’t you the boy who asked her out when you were fifteen? You had the biggest crush on her back then."

"But that was when we were kids," I replied, my voice quieter now. The truth sat heavier than I wanted to admit. I had loved Annie once—with the fierce, uncomplicated heart of a teenager. When she left for college, it had broken something in me. But now, years later, those feelings had softened, faded into warm nostalgia. How was I supposed to explain to Trudy that my heart was tangled somewhere else—locked on Octavia, even as she lay in that hospital bed with no memory of what we once were? Admitting it out loud would only complicate everything further.

"Annie’s amazing, Trudy," I said finally, "I’ll come visit this weekend and take her out on a proper date."

"Perfect. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled when she hears the good news," Trudy replied, excitement bubbling through.

"Don’t tell her, please," I pleaded gently. "I want to tell her myself."

"Okay, I won’t," she promised, though I could hear her fighting to contain her smile.

"I forgot to ask—how was the trip?" I asked.

"It was great. Fast, too," she said, the pride in her voice clear. "Glad to hear that," I replied, and we exchanged a few more easy words before I lied smoothly, "Okay, Trudy, I’ve got to go. Work is calling." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"Alright, have a nice day at work, my dear."

"I will. You have a nice day too."

"Bye."

"Bye." I ended the call, the phone heavy in my hand as silence rushed back in.

I stared at the shattered remains of the vase I’d swept off the counter the night before, the mess still untouched on the kitchen floor. Everything felt tangled—Bella’s shadow, my father’s vendetta, the gun at my head, Octavia’s fragile recovery. Annie’s return should have been a light in the darkness, but even that carried its own quiet complications. I loved her, yes... but not the way I once had. Not the way I still loved Octavia. The thought settled deep as I rose, the weight of secrets and choices pressing harder than ever. Whatever came next, I had to navigate it carefully. One wrong step, and everything I cared about could shatter beyond repair.