Too Late to Beg: I’m No Longer Yours Chapter 02

Too Late to Beg: I’m No Longer Yours Chapter 02

I locked my phone.

The moment I pushed the private room door open, a cold draft swept down the hallway.

It reminded me of the night Mom died.

Hayes had stood in a hospital corridor just like this one, pulling me into his arms.

“Nova, I’m your home now.”

Brie had held my hand in silence. She had simply pressed a peppermint into my palm.

Cole was still little back then. But he knew enough to bite his lip and stubbornly hold back his tears.

I was drowning, and I had clung to them like my last piece of driftwood.

I fought desperately to keep every ounce of warmth I had left.

That was why I had funded his startup all these years. Why I had paid off Brie’s credit card debt. Why I had covered Cole’s tuition.

Even when Delaney moved back from LA and couldn’t find an apartment, I had cleared out my study so she could stay.

But the moment she barged into my life, everything changed.

Everyone started looking at me like I was in the way.

I was too sensitive. Too fragile. Too intense.

Meanwhile, she was their little ray of sunshine. She knew exactly how to keep them all happy.

The cold, mechanical error chime of the smart lock snapped me back to reality.

I tried my passcode three times. The lock disabled itself for five minutes.

A second later, a text from Hayes popped up.

[Laney said you might do something impulsive. I changed the passcode for now.]

[Stay at the hotel for two nights. We’ll talk when we get back.]

I stood at the door. My fingers curled tightly into fists.

I paid the rent for this apartment.

I picked out the furniture. The West Elm sofa. The mid-century coffee table I had thrifted from a flea market.

The strawberries I washed last night were still sitting in the fridge.

And now, he was locking me out of my own home.

Just because Delaney said I was impulsive.

I called the landlord.

He arrived quickly. As he pushed the door open, he gave me an awkward look.

“Ms. Hart. Mr. Whitmore told me this afternoon that you two were breaking the lease.”

“He also asked me to wire the security deposit to his account.”

I froze.

“When did he say that?”

The landlord pulled up his text messages.

Two hours ago, a text had been sent from my number.

[Just send the deposit to Hayes.]

But I never sent that.

I checked the timestamp. It was exactly when I had my eyes closed, making my wish.

Right before I blew out the candles, Hayes had taken my phone.

He claimed he was going to take pictures of me.

Turns out, he was doing a lot more than taking photos in those few minutes.

He was using my phone to terminate my lease. Stealing my security deposit.

The landlord noticed my pale face and lowered his voice.

“Do you guys need to talk this over?”

I shook my head.

“No need.”

“Please inspect the apartment right now. Don’t refund him the deposit. Follow the original contract.”

He looked stunned.

I pulled up the lease agreement, my bank history, and digital transfers.

“My name is on the lease. I’m the one paying rent.”

“He has no right to terminate this lease.”

The landlord’s expression shifted.

I didn’t offer any further explanation. I walked inside and started packing.

I left most of the old stuff behind.

I only packed a few clothes, my MacBook, and a stack of project files.

And an empty jewelry box.

That box was supposed to hold Mom’s necklace.

The chain itself wasn’t expensive. But it was delicate, cast in a vintage Victorian style.

Inside the silver pendant was a tiny black-and-white photo of Mom from her youth.

Right before she passed, she had gripped my hand, repeating her promise.

“Mommy can’t stay with you anymore.”

“Nova. Whenever you’re sad, just touch this. I’ll be protecting you from heaven.”

Now, that necklace was hanging around Delaney’s neck.

Snatched away carelessly by my own brother, who claimed he was taking Mom to see the ocean.

I sat on the hardwood floor. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.