Chapter 4

I threw on my old coat, pulled my hat down, and walked out of the apartment we'd shared.

The door slammed shut behind me, the sound harsh and jarring.

That sound was the end of everything, five years of love, gone in an instant.

What a joke.

All this time, I never noticed the stench that had been building up. Now, it finally hit me.

The hallway was pitch black. The motion-sensor lights had been broken for ages.

All the neighbors were asleep. There were two families with kids who always called me "miss" whenever they saw me.

I stood there in the dark, sniffling and wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes.

I didn't make a scene or raise my voice. I didn't want to wake the kids.

Am I really so kind that it's just plain stupid?

I turned and slowly made my way down the stairs. When I reached the door, a cold wind slipped through the crack, biting right through me.

I pushed the door open and stepped outside, but after a few steps, I turned back.

It wasn't because of the cold. I'd forgotten something.

Downstairs in the cluttered corner, my lemonade cart and all my supplies were still there.

Those were my treasures.

I grabbed my cart and headed back out into the wind.

Out of habit, I made my way toward the night market on the east side, my usual spot.

Back in the summer, I'd stay there until dawn before packing up for the night.

But when I got to the night market, I suddenly wondered, why did I even come out here tonight, in this freezing cold?

I stood there for a bit, and a big truck rolled up next to me. The driver leaned out and called, "Hey, girl, got any hot drinks?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, I didn't bring any."

He looked disappointed, about to drive off, but then waved me over. "Hey, miss, come here for a second."

I walked over, and he stared at me, then pulled out a piece of paper and glanced at it.

"Miss, is that mole by your right eye something you've had since you were little?" he asked.

I nodded.

He asked again, "Where are you from?"

"Willow Creek," I replied.

"Oh my god!" the driver blurted out, jumping out of his truck.

He came over, looked me up and down, and handed me the paper. "Look, this guy's looking for his daughter. She went missing in Willow Creek, and she's got a mole by her right eye."

I was a bit lost, not really in the mood to look at it.

The driver explained, "Have you seen what's been happening with Alex lately? He's all over the news, and now a bunch of big shots are out there looking for their long-lost kids. This guy's worth tens of billions. He's the richest man in Riverdale."

"He's plastered flyers everywhere, thirty thousand dollars for any lead, and three hundred thousand dollars if you actually find his daughter!"

The driver was talking so fast, I barely caught what he said.

Emily shook her head. "I don't know. I'm leaving."

I had somewhere to go, so I pushed my cart toward the east side of the night market, where there was a little shed that could block the wind.

"Wait!" the driver called out, about to chase after me, but then he spun around and shouted, "Oh crap, I forgot to set the parking brake!"

His truck was slowly rolling away.

I pushed my cart and headed east.

There was light over there. It was a bit warmer, at least.