They Forgot Me at the Courthouse on Divorce Day, Then Forgot to Tell Me They Got Back Together Chapter 02

They Forgot Me at the Courthouse on Divorce Day, Then Forgot to Tell Me They Got Back Together Chapter 02

Dad and Ethan never came back to the apartment that night. I figured the four of them were finally living under the same roof.

I was starving. I splashed water on my swollen eyes and walked to the convenience store down the block for something to eat.

A van screeched to a stop beside me, tires shrieking against the curb. Three men climbed out and cut off my path before I could move.

My heart shot into my throat. “Who are you?”

They didn’t answer. A damp cloth pressed over my nose and mouth, and everything went black almost instantly.

“She came out of that gated community last night, family’s loaded. We ask for three mil.”

When I came to, I was in some kind of abandoned warehouse, the warehouse cold seeping up through the concrete. My clothes were torn. Bruises covered my arms and legs in dark, swollen patches, and every breath sent a sharp pain through my ribs.

I could hear the kidnappers on speakerphone. “Three million. Not a dollar less, or the girl dies. Call the cops and she’s dead before they get here.”

I understood immediately. They’d grabbed me to squeeze money out of my parents.

The thing was, I didn’t feel afraid. I laughed, a broken, miserable sound. “You picked the wrong girl. You won’t see a cent.”

But on the other end of the line, Dad’s voice came through shaking. “Don’t hurt her, please. Just tell me where you are. I’ll bring the money.”

Something shifted inside my chest. I’d never heard him sound like that. Not once in my entire life had either of them panicked over me.

The ache came a second later, slow and bitter. So I was still their daughter after all. They wouldn’t just let me die.

The kidnappers sent an address for the exchange. My parents showed up within the hour. I looked toward the door through swollen eyes blurred with tears.

They saw my face, and everything changed.

“It’s you?” Mom’s voice went flat. “Wasn’t Chloe the one who was taken?”

The room went completely silent. I could hear my own heartbeat thudding in my skull.

They’d thought it was Chloe. This whole time, they thought they were saving Chloe.

Mom’s eyes locked on me, ice-cold. “If I’d known it was just you, we wouldn’t have bothered coming. Keep her. We’re not paying.”

My blood went cold. Even the kidnappers stared.

“She’s your daughter. You drove all the way out here to tell us you’re not paying?”

Dad waved his hand dismissively. “She’s not worth three million. Do what you want.”

I dropped my head and laughed with the taste of my own blood in my mouth. Lena. You’re pathetic.

The kidnappers exchanged looks. “Jesus. First time I’ve ever seen parents this cold.”

“Forget the ransom, boss. We can still sell her, get something for our trouble.”

They started dragging me toward the back. Then the sirens hit.

Ethan burst through the door with the police right behind him. He grabbed me, pulling me against his chest. “Chloe, it’s okay. Your brother’s here.”

Then he looked down and saw my face. His expression twisted.

I forced my swollen eyes open and tried to smile, though with my face the way it was, I’m not sure it looked like one.

“Chloe’s not here,” I whispered.

Ethan shoved me away in disgust. “Where is she? What happened to Chloe? Did you let them take her?”

I almost laughed. Even now. Even bleeding on the floor of a warehouse. All any of them could think about was her.

“I told you. Chloe’s not here. It’s just me.”

He towered over me, trembling with rage.

Chloe’s name on the screen.

“Ethan? Where is everyone? I just got back from a friend’s house and nobody’s home.”

He went slack with relief. He glanced at me, crumpled on the floor, covered in blood, and walked out without a word.

No apology. Nothing.

The officers took me to the hospital. I told them everything, what happened, how my parents came and left.

When they heard that part, their composure slipped. I watched them try to hold their professional expressions together and fail.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Mr. Miller and Ms. Davis, that’s who they are to me now. I’m used to that.”

The day I was discharged, no one came. I wasn’t expecting anyone.

I went back to the apartment and found my bags thrown outside the door. The landlord was inside, cleaning.

“Hey, kid, didn’t your dad tell you? He moved back home.”

He hadn’t. But it wasn’t my home anyway.

I didn’t say anything. I just crouched on the pavement and started shoving my things back into the bags. My phone buzzed. An email.

[Dear Lena, following a comprehensive review, the university is pleased to extend an invitation for you to join the National Honors Research Program.]

Tears hit the screen before I could stop them. I couldn’t name what I felt. Through the blur, I read the rest, a corporate-sponsored fellowship offering $160,000 a year.

I called the admissions office with shaking hands, applied for early move-in, and was moved into a dorm room by nightfall.

That first night on campus, I sat on a bare mattress and drafted a repayment plan. $480,000, plus interest, paid off in three years.

By then, I only had one thought left.

I was going to owe them nothing.