Jasmine arrived forty minutes later.
The moment she stepped into the office, she ran toward me.
We held each other so tightly that I could barely breathe.
“Oh, Hannah,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you.”
I cried against her shoulder.
“I thought you hated me.”
She pulled back.
“What?”
“Brandon said—”
Jasmine’s face hardened.
“Brandon told you that?”
I nodded.
Her eyes filled again.
“I’ve been calling you for months. Every time, the calls went straight to voicemail.”
I stared.
“He said you stopped trying.”
Jasmine shook her head.
“I never stopped.”
I looked down at my phone.
How many calls had Brandon blocked?
How many messages had he deleted?
How much of my world had he quietly taken apart?
Jasmine wrapped an arm around me.
“Come home with me.”
I nodded.
But before leaving, I turned toward Damien.
He had returned to the office doorway.
I approached him slowly.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
“Damien.”
I managed a small smile.
“Damien.”
He waited.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t owe me thanks.”
“I do.”
I looked toward the chair where I’d been sitting.
“If you hadn’t been here…”
My voice broke.
Damien shook his head gently.
“You were the one who ran. You were the one who said no.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“Don’t let anyone take that courage away from you.”
My eyes filled.
“Will Brandon come after me?”
His expression became serious.
“I can’t promise what another man will do. But the police know what happened, the restaurant is preserving its records, and you have people willing to help you.”
It was the first answer anyone had given me that felt both honest and reassuring.
I nodded.
Then Jasmine took my hand.
We walked toward the door.
Just before stepping into the hallway, I looked back.
Damien was standing beside his desk.
Watching quietly.
Not with the possessive expression Brandon always wore.
With something softer.
Concern, perhaps.
Or respect.
I didn’t know.
All I knew was that the most frightening man in Chicago had been the first stranger in years to ask what I wanted.
And that changed something inside me.
At Jasmine’s apartment, I slept on her couch.
Actually, I barely slept at all.
Every sound outside made me jump.
Every passing car made my stomach twist.
At four in the morning, Jasmine found me sitting beside the window.
She brought two cups of tea.
Then she sat beside me.
“You don’t have to tell me everything tonight,” she said.
I stared into my cup.
“I thought if I loved him enough, he’d stop.”
