Chapter 5
The door swung shut behind her, the little bell above it giving a soft jingle.
Hadley didn’t look back.
Outside, the night was damp, the air heavy with the smell of rain.
She pulled her coat tighter around her and disappeared into the city streets.
Inside the coffee shop, Eric sat frozen, her words echoing in his mind.
You don’t deserve me.
It was a blade straight to the heart — because he knew it was true.
He had broken something too important, too fragile.
And no apology could piece it back together.
But Eric Flynn had never been the kind of man to accept defeat easily.
If there was even the smallest chance, he would fight for it.
Even if it meant tearing apart everything he thought he knew.
The next morning, Eric stormed into the Flynn family estate, rage burning under his skin.
Nyla was sitting in the sunroom, a blanket over her lap, sipping tea as if the world hadn’t shattered years ago.
“Grandma,” Eric said sharply.
She looked up, frowning. “Eric? What’s wrong?”
“I want the truth,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
Nyla’s hands stilled on her cup.
“The night Linda fell,” Eric continued, “Hadley said she didn’t do it. She swore it.”
“And you believed her?” Nyla asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe her now,” he said, the weight of regret making him feel ten years older.
Nyla set her tea down carefully.
“I never had proof,” she said after a long pause. “We only had what we saw. What Linda said.”
Eric’s jaw tightened.
“And you sent Hadley away based on that?”
“Linda lost the baby!” Nyla snapped, her composure cracking. “We were grieving! You were furious! What choice did I have?”
“You had a choice,” Eric said, his voice like steel.
“You could’ve believed the girl you claimed to love like a granddaughter.”
Nyla flinched as if he had struck her.
Silence filled the room.
“Hadley deserved better,” Eric said finally. “From all of us.”
And without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked away.
Meanwhile, Hadley’s new world was opening in ways she hadn’t imagined.
Her performances had caught the eye of powerful people — not just men chasing beauty, but influential figures who saw her for what she really was: magnetic, untouchable, rare.
One evening, after another sold-out show, a man approached her dressing room.
“Hadley Pearson?” he said smoothly, offering his card.
She glanced at it — gold-embossed letters spelling out the name of a top entertainment agency.
“We think you have potential,” he said. “More than just nightclubs. Modeling. Endorsements. Even acting.”
Hadley looked at him, weighing the offer.
A year ago, she might have laughed in disbelief.
Now?
Now she smiled — cool and collected.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, sliding the card into her purse.
She had built herself back up from nothing.
She wasn’t going to let anyone — not even Eric Flynn — decide her future anymore.
But as she walked out into the night, her phone buzzed with a new message.
Eric Flynn:
Please. One last chance.
Hadley stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then, without hesitation, she pressed delete.
No more looking back.
The future was hers now — and she would build it with her own hands.