Chapter 4
Phoebe instantly let go of my wrist, her eyes welling up and her voice trembling. "Jordan, I just wanted to have a proper conversation with Audrey. I didn't mean anything else."
Jordan glanced at me, his voice suddenly cold.
"Audrey, why did you come to see her?" he asked, his tone sharp.
I gave a cool, dismissive smile. "Ask her."
With that, I pushed the door open and walked out.
Behind me, I could hear Phoebe's stifled sobs and Jordan quietly trying to calm her down.
"Come on, don't cry. You know how she is. She's always got that attitude. I'll talk to her later," Jordan said.
I walked down the street as the sky grew dark and the wind howled.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from the immigration bureau.
"Your application has been approved. Please bring the required documents to complete the process within seven business days."
I gripped my phone and took a deep breath.
Almost there.
Just a few more days, and this will all be behind me.
By the time I got home, it was already late.
Jordan was sitting on the couch in the living room, fiddling with a lighter. When he saw me come in, he tossed it onto the coffee table.
"Why did you go see Phoebe?" he asked.
I changed my shoes without looking up. "She was the one who asked me out."
"She said you were really rude to her, said some harsh things," he said.
I sat up straighter and locked eyes with him. "What else did she say?"
Jordan frowned. "She said you told her to back off and even threatened her."
"Seriously? You actually believe her?" I shot back.
"I don't want to, but you've been acting weird lately," he said, getting up and coming over. "Audrey, what's up with you? If you've got something to say, just spit it out. Stop beating around the bush."
I looked into his eyes—those eyes that once held only me.
"Jordan, you said you were back for good, right?" I asked.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Then what about the villa you bought for Phoebe? And the fact that you spend time with her every week. What's that supposed to mean?" I pressed.
His expression shifted.
"Are you checking up on me?" he shot back.
"Didn't have to. She handed me the photos herself," I replied.
Jordan was silent for a few seconds and then tugged at his tie in frustration.
"She got back and had nowhere to stay, so I set her up with a place. That's it. And seeing her every week is just me checking in as a friend. Can you not turn everything into something it's not?" he said.
"Just checking in as a friend," I repeated, my voice flat.
"Yeah, a friend," he replied.
"Then your friend told me to step aside and let you go to her—right to my face. Do you really think that's something a friend would say?" I shot back.
Jordan opened his mouth, but no words came out.
I didn't want to argue with him about this anymore.
"Fine, believe whatever you want," I said.
I turned and headed upstairs as he called out behind me. "Audrey."
I didn't stop.
"What's going on with you lately? Packing up, burning things, being so distant—are you hiding something from me?" he called out.
I paused for a second at the turn of the stairs. "No."
Back in my room, I locked the door behind me.
Leaning against the door, I slowly slid down to sit on the floor.
There were only five days to go.
Five days from now, I would be gone.
Once I was gone, I was never coming back.
My phone rang again. It was an unknown number.
I picked up.
"Hello, Ms. Sargent. This is Alvin Tyson, head of legal at the Holland Group. I need to confirm something with you."
"What is it?" I asked.
Alvin said, "Mr. Holland is making some changes to his assets. This involves a property in your name and joint authorization for two accounts. We'll need your signature on an authorization form."
I gripped the phone tighter, tension creeping into my fingers. "What's this about changing assets?"
"I can't go into details over the phone. If you're free, could you come to the office tomorrow? I'll explain everything in person."
"Okay."
After hanging up, I sat in the darkness, and suddenly, it all made sense.
Jordan wasn't just getting married to Phoebe.
He was also transferring assets.
He was trying to cut me out of his life for good.
*****
The next morning, I didn't go to the Holland Group.
I went somewhere else—the Sargent Group, the company my biological father left behind.
No one knew that my last name, Sargent, didn't come from my mom, but from my dad.
No one knew either that my father was the founder of the Sargent Group.
Eighteen years ago, he died of illness and entrusted all his shares and assets to his most trusted partner, to be handed over to me when I came of age.
By the time I turned twenty, everything had been quietly transferred to my name.
That included full ownership of the Sargent Group and the largest investment the Holland Group ever received.
Jordan had no idea that I was the true controlling force behind forty percent of his company's shares.
The "Mr. Sargent" he dutifully sent his quarterly reports to was actually me.