Chapter 5

In the fall of the second year after my divorce, the first phase of Haven Estates launched.

It was the most talked-about residential project in Havenbrook that year.

Thirty-six boutique apartments sold out on launch day. Buyers included famous entrepreneurs, cultural icons, and a university professor who'd won an international architecture award.

The professor posted on social media. [I've lived in houses for thirty years, but this is the first time I've felt like the space actually talks to me. The lead designer of the interior team is Susan Reed. Remember that name.]

That post got shared over twenty thousand times.

My phone was blowing up.

Grace was laughing so hard in the office that she was slapping the desk. "Susan, you're famous now."

"Stop it. We've got work to do," I said.

But whether I was blowing up or not wasn't really up to me.

Within a month, six media outlets wanted to interview me, three design forums asked me to be a keynote speaker, and the Havenbrook Designers Guild sent me an invitation to join.

I turned down most of them and only said yes to one magazine interview and one forum.

Later, I saw the magazine headline. It read: [Susan Reed: From Nobody to the Designer Everyone in Havenbrook Is Talking About.]

I didn't think being talked about was anything to brag about, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited.

Two years ago, I dragged a suitcase into Havenbrook, crashed in a cramped shared room, lived off sandwiches, and got rejected by six companies.

Now, people finally knew my name because of what I created.

At the forum, after I finished speaking, a man in the back row stood up to ask a question. "Ms. Reed, you used to live in Northgate, right?"

I raised an eyebrow, not really bothered. "Yes."

"Do you know that Urban Works in Northgate landed a major city project this year? Do you know David?" he asked.

The whole room went quiet for a second.

I gripped the microphone, my face completely blank. "Sorry, we're here to talk about spatial narrative design. Let's keep it on topic. Next question."

The host quickly smoothed it over.

After I got off the stage, Grace hurried over. "Who was that? Someone you know?"

"No," I replied.

"The David that guy asked about—"

"Grace, enough."

She fell silent.

*****

Back in my hotel room, I sat on the edge of the bed, zoning out for five minutes.

Urban Works? Did David start his own company?

David used to run project operations and was always super skilled, but he never once mentioned wanting to start a business of his own.

I pulled out my phone and did a quick search.

Northgate Urban Works Ltd. was founded a year and a half ago, specializing in urban renovation and green building construction.

David was listed as the legal representative.

The company wasn't huge, but they'd already landed two solid projects.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then closed the page.

None of this had anything to do with me anymore.

But that night, I had a dream.

In the dream, I was back in that same Southport hallway, standing at the door, listening to the sound of a spatula hitting a pan from inside.

The only difference was that this time the door actually opened.

But instead of David, it was Emily who opened the door.

She had on a floral apron and flashed me a bright smile. "Hey, Susan, you made it. Come on in."

Behind her, the table was loaded with food.

I jolted awake.

My pillow was soaked.

The distance from Havenbrook to Northgate was 683 miles.

I thought two years were enough to put it all behind me. But it wasn't enough.