CHAPTER 35: CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Chapter Thirty-Five

Alicia’s POV

I didn’t know what was happening anymore.

The moment I stepped into my hotel room, the world tilted. Walls spun. The floor felt like water beneath my feet.

I grabbed the edge of the nearest table, knuckles white, trying to anchor myself to something solid. Trying to keep from drowning in the panic crushing my chest.

Tears came without permission—hot, relentless, blurring everything until I couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the single thought screaming in my head:

Six days. I have six days to save Sophie, and I have no idea how.

My phone vibrated against the table. The sound pulled me back from the edge.

Cassie: Are you free to hang out?

I stared at the screen blankly. The words registered, but they felt like they belonged to a different world. A world where people hung out. Where problems were small enough to ignore for a few hours over coffee and gossip.

I didn’t live in that world anymore.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I should reply. Should say something casual and normal.

Sorry, busy with work. Maybe next week?

But I couldn’t make myself type the lie. Couldn’t pretend everything was fine when I was splintering apart.

I left the message on read.

Minutes passed. My phone lit up again. A call this time. Cassie’s name flashing insistently.

I let it ring.

She called again. And again. And again.

On the fifth ring, guilt overrode my instinct to hide. Cassie had been my friend since childhood—back when we lived on the same cramped street in Dark City. Back when we were just two girls trying to survive in a world that didn’t care if we lived or died.

She deserved better than being ignored.

I answered. "Hello."

"You didn’t reply to me." Her voice carried that familiar mix of concern and irritation—the tone she used when she knew something was wrong but I wasn’t telling her.

"I..." The words tangled in my throat. I didn’t know how to explain. Didn’t know where to start.

"Alicia, are you okay?"

The simple question broke something in me.

I should say yes. Should lie like I always did. Should protect her from the mess my life had become.

But I was so tired of lying.

"Switch to video call," Cassie said.

"Cassie, there’s no need—"

"Switch."

Her tone left no room for argument.

I wiped my face roughly, trying to erase evidence of my breakdown. Then I switched the call.

Cassie’s face filled the screen—dark curls pulled back, warm brown eyes going wide with shock when she saw me.

"What happened to you, Alicia?" Her voice dropped to that soft, worried pitch that made my throat tight. "You look..."

"I’m fine."

"Don’t." She leaned closer to the camera, like proximity could force the truth out of me. "Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me."

"It’s nothing—"

"Is Travis awake? Did that bastard hurt you again?" Her expression shifted to something fierce. Ready to fight. "Because I swear to God, Alicia, I will fly back there and—"

"No." I cut her off. "Travis is still unconscious. It’s not him."

"Then what?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Where did I even start? How did I explain that my father—the man who’d sold me like livestock three years ago—was back? That he was doing the same thing to Sophie? That I had less than a week to find fifty million dollars or watch my baby sister disappear into the same nightmare I’d barely escaped?

The dam broke.

Everything poured out in a flood of tears and broken sentences. My father’s texts. The photos of Sophie with that old man. The impossible deadline. The amount of money I could never get. The crushing guilt of having left Sophie behind in the first place.

Cassie listened without interrupting. Her face cycled through shock, horror, rage.

"I never imagined your dad would do something like that," she finally said, voice tight with anger. "I knew he was awful, but this... Sophie is seventeen, Alicia. She’s a child."

"I know." The words came out as a whisper. "I know."

"Where does he stay? We need to find him. Get Sophie out of there."

"I don’t know." Shame burned through me. "I don’t even know where my own sister is. What kind of sister does that make me?"

"The kind who was trying to survive," Cassie said firmly. "You didn’t abandon her, Alicia. You were abandoned. There’s a difference."

"It doesn’t feel different."

"Listen to me." Her voice took on that commanding tone she used when she was done with my self-blame. "Go to Grape Street. Ask around. Someone there has to know where your father moved. Old neighbors, shopkeepers—someone will have information."

Grape Street. I hadn’t been back there since my mother died. The thought of walking those streets again, seeing the places that held every painful memory, made my stomach turn.

But for Sophie, I’d walk through fire.

"Okay," I said. "I’ll go tomorrow."

"Tonight," Cassie corrected. "Every day you wait is a day closer to that deadline. Go now."

She was right. I knew she was right.

"I really wish I could help you," she continued, softer now. "I wish I could fix this for you."

"You’re helping by listening. That’s more than I deserve."

"Stop that." She pointed at me through the screen. "You deserve everything good in this world, Alicia. You always have."

A lump formed in my throat. "Cassie—"

"I can spare nineteen million," she said suddenly.

My heart stopped. "What?"

"I have about nineteen million in savings. Photography has been good to me." She smiled slightly. "It’s not the full amount, but it’s something. It buys you time to figure out the rest."

"No." The word came out too sharp. "No, Cassie, I can’t take your money."

"Why not?"

"Because it’s yours. You worked for it. You—"

"And you’re my best friend. The sister I chose. If I can’t help you, what’s the point of having money?"

Tears blurred my vision again. "I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that."

We argued for another ten minutes. Cassie insisted. I refused. Back and forth until she finally sighed in frustration.

"You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met," she said.

"I learned from the best."

"Fine. But if you change your mind—if you need anything—you call me. Promise?"

"Promise."

After we hung up, I sat in silence for a long moment. Then I forced myself to move.

Shower. Fresh clothes. Hair pulled back. I looked at myself in the mirror—pale, exhausted, but determined.

Sophie needs you. Move.

I grabbed my phone and wallet, then headed downstairs to catch a taxi.

✿

Grape Street looked different in the fading evening light.

Some things had changed—new storefronts, fresh paint on old buildings.

My mother’s favorite flower shop was still there. The same faded awning. The same pots of chrysanthemums in the window.

Next to it, the bakery where Sophie and I used to press our faces against the glass, drooling over cakes we could never afford. The owner had changed, but the same display case still held pastries that looked too beautiful to eat.

And there—the restaurant where Mom would take us on good days. Hot pot that warmed us from the inside out. Laughter that felt like it could last forever.

I hadn’t been back here since she died. Since everything fell apart.

Being here now felt like pressing on a bruise that never healed.

I paid the taxi driver and stepped onto the sidewalk. Children ran past me, shrieking with laughter. A group of old men played chess on a makeshift board. Life continued here, indifferent to my ghosts.

The market was deeper in, a maze of stalls selling vegetables, fish, spices. I remembered it vividly—my mother haggling over produce, Sophie clinging to my hand, both of us trying not to get separated in the crowd.

I found her there. Mrs. Chen. The old woman who used to sell vegetables from a corner stall.

She looked ancient now. More bent. More fragile. But her eyes were sharp when they landed on me.

"Alicia?" Her weathered face broke into a shocked smile. "Little Alicia Hayes Fonnel? Is that really you?"

"Hello, Mrs. Chen."

"Look at you! All grown up and so beautiful." She gripped my hands with surprising strength. "Where have you been? It’s been years!"

"I... I got married. Moved away."

"Married!" She beamed.

Her smile dimmed slightly, but she recovered quickly. "Well, as long as you’re happy. Come, come. Help an old woman with these vegetables. My bones aren’t what they used to be."

I spent the next hour helping her sell. Weighing produce. Making change. Falling into the rhythm I remembered from childhood.

When the market began closing, I helped her carry unsold goods back to her home—a small apartment above a noodle shop. The stairs were steep. She moved slowly, leaning heavily on my arm.

"Lucas!" she called as we entered. "Look who I found!"

Lucas appeared from the kitchen. He’d changed—taller, broader, with the same kind eyes I remembered. He froze when he saw me.

"Alicia."

"Hi, Lucas."

Awkward silence stretched between us. We’d been close once. Best friends who ran through these streets like we owned them. Then my mother died, and I stopped going outside. Stopped playing. Stopped being a child.

"I’ll start dinner," Mrs. Chen announced, oblivious to the tension. "Alicia, you’ll stay? We’re having your mother’s favorite—pork dumplings."

My throat tightened. "I... yes. Thank you."

In the kitchen, I helped chop vegetables while Mrs. Chen worked the dough. Lucas hovered nearby, clearly wanting to talk but not knowing how to start.

"So," he finally said, "you’re married?"

"Yes."

"Happy?"

The question was too loaded to answer honestly. "It’s... complicated."

"That’s not a yes."

"No. It’s not."

Mrs. Chen looked up from her dough. "A beautiful girl like you should be with someone who makes her smile. My Lucas here would treat you like a queen. Maybe it’s not too late—"

"Mom," Lucas interrupted, embarrassed. "Stop."

"What? I’m just saying—"

"She’s married. Leave it alone."

Dinner was quieter after that. The dumplings were perfect—exactly how I remembered. But every bite reminded me of family dinners that would never happen again. Of my mother laughing. Of Sophie stealing food from my plate when she thought I wasn’t looking.

After we ate, after Mrs. Chen tried three more times to set me up with her son, I finally asked the question I’d come for.

"Mrs. Chen, do you know where my father lives now? I need to find him."

Her expression shifted. Closed off slightly. "Your father... why would you want to find that man?"

"It’s about Sophie. My sister. She’s in trouble."

Mrs. Chen exchanged a look with Lucas. Something passed between them—concern, maybe. Or pity.

"I haven’t seen Robert Hayes in over a year," she said carefully. "Last I heard, he remarried. Some woman with money. They moved somewhere near the docks, I think. But I don’t know the address."

My heart sank. "The docks? That’s all you know?"

"I’m sorry, child. I wish I could help more."

Lucas cleared his throat. "I might know someone who can help. My friend works at the harbor. He knows everyone in that area. I can ask him."

"Really?" Hope flared in my chest. "That would... thank you, Lucas."

"Give me your number. I’ll text you tomorrow with whatever I find out."

We exchanged contact information. I thanked Mrs. Chen for dinner, endured another round of "you should date my son" suggestions, then finally escaped into the night.

Outside, the street was quieter now. Shops closing. Families heading home.

I stood there for a moment, breathing in the familiar air of my childhood. This place held so much pain. But it also held Sophie.

And I’d burn every memory if it meant saving her.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

My heart stopped.

Unknown:Five days left, Little Ghost. Tick tock.