Chapter 61

Narrator’s POV

The days passed, quiet and cruel. Three months had bled into existence since Tiffany vanished. Each morning, Avery woke with a visceral ache and a foolish hope for a message—a call, a single line of text.

Nothing came. Tiffany had disappeared like a shadow retreating from dawn. Avery sat slumped in her car, parked outside the silent Kingiston mansion. Her fingers fused to the steering wheel, her knuckles pale.

She had visited too many times to count. The security guards offered rote sympathy. “They’re not home, Ms. Von Carter. We haven’t seen them.”

She went anyway. It was a ritual of self-abasement, a pilgrimage. She was not looking for closure; she was looking for herself.

Tonight, as the sun sank behind the harsh skyline, painting the clouds in violent crimson, Avery pressed her forehead against the cool steering wheel. She whispered into the gloom, her voice rough.

“Where did you go, Tiffany? Why didn’t you trust me?”

The air was heavy, and she registered the scent of jasmine—the perfume Tiffany wore. Avery let out a dry, rasping sound. Her mind found Tiffany in the smallest, most cruel things: a passing whiff of perfume, a low laugh on a crowded street, chestnut hair turning a corner.

She felt profound stupidity for clinging to this hope, but she was incapable of stopping. The vibrant world moved on, indifferent to her torment. Avery did not.

She ceased answering calls. She stopped meeting friends, cutting off the lifelines of her existence. She stopped showing up to work, letting responsibilities pile up like debris.

Her mother knocked on her bedroom door each morning, her voice frayed with worry. “Avery, sweetheart, you need to eat. You can’t keep doing this.”

Emily slid a covered plate of food through the door, pleading. “Avery, please. Drink something.”

Avery never replied. She sat on the edge of her enormous bed, staring at the dent on the silk pillow where Tiffany’s head used to rest. She whispered into that space.

“You said forever. You remember that?”

Her voice broke, dissolving into an internal scream. One evening, the penthouse was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the hallway clock. She sat staring at nothing, her heart numb.

It was empty. That emptiness was a terror worse than pain.

After three weeks of silence, Avery stood up. She caught her reflection—a pale, drawn face, hollowed circles beneath eyes that no longer sparkled. When she walked out, the sound of her footsteps startled her mother and Emily, who were sitting in the living room.

They looked up, shock melting into pity. Avery hated pity.

She froze at the bottom of the staircase, meeting their worried gaze with a flash of her old fire. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Mrs. Von Carter opened her mouth to plead, but stopped, seeing the raw despair in her daughter’s eyes. Emily lowered her gaze.

Avery grabbed her car keys from the console, the metal cold against her palm. “I just need air.”

She walked out, slamming the heavy door. The cool evening air hit her face like a slap. She got into her car and started the engine, acting on instinct.

The streets rolled by in a blur. She drove, pushing the vehicle until city lights faded behind her. Hours passed.

The world yielded to fields, trees, and empty roads. No billboards. No traffic. No Tiffany.

When the gas light blinked its aggressive warning, she pulled the car to the side of the road. The night was deep. A small, dilapidated shop nearby cast a weak glow onto the asphalt.

Avery stepped out into the biting air and walked toward the shop. The bell above the door jingled. The air inside smelled of medicinal herbs, leather, and polish.

Behind the counter sat an old woman with silver hair, her eyes patient and watchful. She took in the expensive coat and the exhaustion in Avery’s posture.

“Lost, darling?” she asked in a voice devoid of judgment.

Avery managed a weak, crooked smile. “Something like that. Do you have anything that can lessen the pain?”

The woman tilted her head, then shook it. “No, dear. There’s nothing on these shelves that can lessen that kind of pain. Except maybe one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Talking,” the woman said, patting the chair beside her. “Come, sit. Don’t let it eat you alive in the dark.”

Avery hesitated. Her instinct was to recoil, to hide the cracks she tried to hold together with will. But the woman’s tone pulled her in.

She sat down. Neither spoke for a long while. The clock ticking filled the silence.

The old woman finally asked, “So, what happened, child?”

Avery stared at her hands before whispering the truth. “She left me.”

“Without telling you anything at all?”

Avery’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “Yeah. No call, no message. One day she was there, and the next she was gone.”

The woman reached out and patted Avery’s hand—a touch that didn’t demand anything. “She must’ve had a reason. A reason so terrifying or profound that she felt she had no other choice. I hope you find her—or at least the reason.”

Avery closed her eyes, fighting tears. “I don’t even know if I want to find her. I just want to stop hurting.”

“You will,” the woman said. “But not by running away or burying it. You’ll have to walk through it, no matter how much it burns.”

Avery nodded, the advice landing with the weight of truth. After shared silence, Avery stood, thanking her.

The old woman smiled—that smile that said she understood. When Avery stepped outside, the cool air brushed her face. She felt a flicker of something—perhaps the start of a journey.

Then she saw the smoke. It rose near her car—a thin gray curl against the sky.

A man leaned against the hood, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. When their eyes met, he smirked.

“Rough night?” he asked.

Avery looked at him, too exhausted for pretense. He chuckled and gestured with the cigarette. “Maybe what that old lady said inside was true. But you might need this first.”

He held the cigarette out. Avery blinked. “I don’t smoke.”

He shrugged. “Don’t worry. It’ll help. Just for tonight.”

She hesitated. Her gaze fell on the glowing ember. She reached out and took it. Her hands shook as she brought it to her lips.

He lit it. She took a clumsy puff—coughing—then another. By the third, the razor edges of her thoughts began to blur.

The ache dulled. The man grinned. “See? Told you.”

Avery managed a small, tired ghost of a smile. “You’re right. It’s kind of relaxing.”

She pulled out her wallet and handed him a wad of cash. He looked down, startled. “This is way too much—for one cigarette?”

She gave a small shrug. “Maybe. But not for a Von Carter.”

He stared, his demeanor slipping as he realized she wasn’t a wanderer, but someone of significance. “Von Carter, huh? Thought I’d heard that name.”

Avery didn’t reply. She smiled, handed the butt back, and turned toward her car. She sat inside, the door shutting with a thud of finality.

She leaned back, exhaling, watching the trail of smoke swirl like a ghost. Maybe this was what she needed—not peace, but silence.

Her phone rang. The shrill sound shattered the night. She looked at the screen.

Mom.

Her thumb hovered before she answered. “Mom?”

“Avery!” her mother’s voice was a panicked shriek. “Avery, your dad—your dad—”

Avery straightened in her seat. “What? What happened, Mom?”

Emily’s voice came through, trembling with fear. “Come fast, Avery! Dad had a heart attack! Reynolds took him to the hospital!”

Avery went still. She threw the cigarette out the window, turned the key, and the car roared to life.

“Hold on,” she whispered, her voice tight with terror. “Hold on, Dad…”

She pressed the accelerator, the tires screeching against the gravel. The night swallowed the car as she sped back toward the city.

The road blurred under the headlights. Tiffany’s face flashed before her—the laughter, the promises, the silence. Her father’s life hung in the balance.

She gripped the wheel, whispering through clenched teeth, “Not again. Please, God, not again.”

The highway lights flickered past like ghosts. Avery cried—raw, gasping tears that clawed their way out of her chest.

The night offered no comfort. It just kept moving.

But beneath the hurt and fear, a small part of Avery began to whisper back.

“Maybe she’ll come back,” it said. “But even if she doesn’t… you still have to live.”

Avery wiped her tears and focused on the road ahead. The world demanded something from her. A terrifying, immediate demand. She had no choice but to answer.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and steel—sterile and suffocating. Avery pushed through the doors, her heart hammering, the echo of her boots a jarring sound.

“Avery!”

She turned. Reynolds was pacing near the waiting area, his tie loosened, his composure shaken. When he saw her, he hurried toward her.

“Avery,” he said, voice fierce. “He’s under surgery. They took him straight in.”

Avery’s breath hitched. She nodded, woodenly. Reynolds placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come and sit.”

She sat, her gaze fixed on the doors of the operating theater. Reynolds sat beside her, rubbing his temples.

“You know, Avery, the media’s outside,” he said. “They’re waiting for an official update.”

She blinked, dazed. “The media?”

“Yes,” Reynolds said with a bitter laugh. “Half the reporters want a statement. The vultures are waiting for him to fall so they can carve up what he built.”

Avery turned toward him. “You think I care about them right now, Reynolds?”

Reynolds looked at her—really looked at her. He saw the profound exhaustion and the hollow stare. He sighed.

“No. But you should. Because this is bigger than him, and it is bigger than you.”

“Reynolds—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted, tone firm. “You need to stop doing this to yourself—and to your family.”

“Doing what?”

“This.” He gestured at her disheveled state. “You’ve locked yourself away. You stopped showing up at the company. You think your father hasn’t noticed? You think your mother hasn’t seen what’s happening to you?”

Avery looked down at her hands, fingers tightening into fists. The accusation stung with the force of truth.

Reynolds leaned closer. “You’re not just their daughter, Avery. You’re their hope. He shaped you for this life—because he believed one day you’d stand where he stands.”

Avery’s lips trembled. “I never wanted to replace him.”

Reynolds shook his head. “No one replaces him. But someone has to carry what he built. And if he could see you now—broken, lost—it would hurt him more than any heart attack.”

Avery closed her eyes, breath coming in a shaky gasp.

“Promise me something, Avery. When you see him—you’ll tell him that you’re going to be the next president of Von Carters Group. Tell him you’re ready to take it forward. It’ll ease his pain.”

She looked up, eyes wide, glistening with tears. “Reynolds, I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted. “You’ve got that same, relentless fire—don’t let it burn out now.”

Avery stared at the floor, mind spinning. The weight of his words pressed down like iron.

Footsteps shuffled down the corridor. Her mother stood at the end of the hall. Mrs. Von Carter looked smaller than Avery remembered—fragile, eyes red from hours of crying.

When her gaze met Avery’s, it shattered her. It wasn’t disappointment. It was desperate, profound need.

Avery stood, legs trembling. She walked toward her mother, until they were face to face.

Neither spoke. The silence was immense, filled with unspoken fears. Without warning, Avery’s mother pulled her into a trembling embrace.

Avery felt like a helpless child again—clinging to the only thing left.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” she whispered, voice steady, finding strength in her mother’s weakness. “Dad will be fine. He’s strong.”

Her mother tightened her arms. “What about you, Avery? What about my daughter? I don’t recognize the girl standing in front of me.”

Avery swallowed, feeling the gravity. She straightened, adopting the posture of command.

“From this day forward, you won’t just see your daughter, Mom. You’ll see the new president of Von Carters Group.”

Her mother’s lips parted in shock. Avery’s voice didn’t waver.

“Avery Von Carter,” she continued. “Your daughter—and his rightful heir.”

Mrs. Von Carter’s eyes filled with tears. There was something else in them—pride, or relief. She nodded, cupping Avery’s cheek.

“He’ll be so proud,” she whispered.

The red lamp above the operating room turned off. All three turned.

The doors hissed open. A doctor stepped out. His expression was professional but calm.

“Mr. Von Carter is out of danger,” he announced.

Avery let out a shuddering breath. Her mother began to cry.

“The surgery went well,” the doctor continued. “But he’ll need rest. You can see him after four or five hours.”

Reynolds stepped forward. “Thank you, doctor.”

The doctor walked away, leaving them standing in the corridor. Avery’s knees nearly gave way. She caught herself against the wall.

Her mother touched her arm. “You see? He’s going to be okay.”

Avery nodded, throat too tight to speak. Reynolds came closer, placing a steady hand on her shoulder.

“Now you go home, Avery. Clean up, rest, and come back fresh. He needs to see his daughter—not the shell you’ve been living as.”

Avery met his eyes, the responsibility settling over her. “Yeah,” she said. “You’re right.”

He smiled—the proud smile of a man who’d seen her grow. “I always am.”

Avery managed a small, tired laugh.

By dawn, the corridors had softened into gold. The terror had settled into silence. The city was beginning its awakening.

Avery stood by the window, eyes tracing the horizon. She hadn’t slept, but she didn’t feel tired—only resolved.

When the nurse told her she could see him, she walked down the hall to the recovery room. Her father lay there, pale and fragile, tubes tracing across his chest.

Avery walked to his bedside. She took his hand. It was cold, but alive.

“Hey, Dad,” she whispered, forcing a small smile. “You scared the hell out of us.”

His eyelids fluttered. “Still… bossing people around?” he rasped.

Avery laughed, tears spilling. “Guess it runs in the family.”

He squeezed her hand. “You look… stronger,” he murmured.

She hesitated, then said firmly, her voice carrying new conviction, “You’re not allowed to give up on me. Not yet. We have a company to run.”

His eyes softened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Avery leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Reynolds made me promise something,” she said.

Her father’s brow furrowed. “Promise?”

“Yes,” she said. “That when I saw you, I’d tell you… that I’m going to take over. I’m ready, Dad. I’m going to be the next president of Von Carters Group.”

For a moment, he just stared—then a smile spread across his face, a smile of immense pride.

“That’s… my girl,” he whispered, eyes closing, peace washing over him.

Avery stayed by his side until his breathing deepened. The machines beeped in rhythm, a reassurance that the crisis had passed.

She brushed a hand through his hair. “Rest, Dad. I’ll handle everything. I promise.”

When she stepped out, the air felt breathable. Reynolds was waiting, expression expectant.

“How is he?”

“Resting,” Avery said. “He smiled.”

Reynolds nodded, lines of worry easing. “Good.”

Avery turned toward the window, the first rays of sunlight touching her face. She didn’t feel lost.

Exhausted, yes. Bruised, absolutely. But somewhere deep inside, a strength began to rise—from love for her father.

She took a breath and said, “Von Carters never lose a game. Not the important ones.”

Reynolds smiled. “Now that’s the Avery I remember.”

As morning light poured into the corridor, Avery walked down it—no longer the broken woman who’d walked in, but something else. A daughter. A leader. And a survivor.

Months passed in a blur of reports, sessions, and hospital visits. The haze of college had drifted past Avery.

Graduation approached, but she barely participated in the bustle. She had stopped visiting campus and missed lectures.

The world had narrowed to her father’s recovery and her responsibilities at Von Carters Group. She embraced it with a singular focus that left little room for anything else.

But on the day of graduation, she returned to college with trepidation. The campus had an unfamiliar clarity, a buzzing excitement pulsing beneath the sunlight.

Waiting for her near the hall were her parents and Reynolds, faces alight with pride. Elize and Victoria were there too, her loyal friends.

Their faces lit up with affection as they rushed forward, enveloping Avery in an embrace.

“We missed you, Avery!” Elize whispered.

“I know,” Avery replied, returning the hug with intensity, allowing herself the comfort of the friendship she’d abandoned in her grief.

Elize pulled back, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “So… what’s the plan now? Are you finally taking a vacation?”

Avery smiled, a resolute curve of her lips. “Nothing special. Just heading into a rigorous two-month training and shadowing period for business succession. Then… you’ll see.”