Chapter 2: Blind Dates and Old Ghosts

"No way, Caleb, you’re really here for a blind date?"

In a fancy downtown steakhouse.

The kind with thick carpets, waiters in pressed vests, and a bourbon selection that’d make your dad weep. My date hadn’t arrived yet. Sitting across from me was Marcus, the owner and my good buddy.

He stared at me in disbelief. "With who?"

"The granddaughter of my grandpa’s old friend." I shrugged, swirling the ice in my whiskey glass. "Old man’s last wish. What can I do?"

Marcus nodded, hesitated for a few seconds, then couldn’t help lowering his voice:

"What about Lillian Carter? You liked her so much… Four years together, are you really just letting it go like that?"

‘Just like that.’

Nice phrase. But not quite accurate.

I raised my glass, took a sip, and gave a faint smile. "The breakup fee was six million. That’s not ‘just like that.’"

"That’s about all the conscience she has left."

Marcus thumped his fist on the table, making the silverware jump. "Man, that’s cold—even for her."

But then he seemed to remember something, and with a weird look, rubbed his nose.

"Caleb, sorry."

"I didn’t get your luggage back from Lillian’s place."

I blinked. What do you mean you didn’t get it?

A pit opened in my stomach. My grandfather’s watch, the faded photos—were they still safe? Or was I about to lose even more?

After the breakup, I’d rushed back to small-town Ohio for my grandfather’s funeral, only returning to Savannah yesterday. The only person I could trust to pack my things was Marcus.

After all, I took the breakup money. I should know when to leave.

Marcus covered his forehead—grown man, actually spooked by a woman:

"It was too scary. When I went to pack up yesterday, Lillian wasn’t at her office, she was home."

"She just sat on the couch, staring at me, not saying a word. Gave me the creeps."

"When I finished and was about to leave with your suitcase, she suddenly said, ‘Marcus, you’ve got good hands—want me to break them?’"

"Damn, nearly scared me to death."

Yep, that’s just like Lillian Carter.

The Carter family runs Savannah. If Princess Lillian wants someone’s hand, it’s just a matter of minutes.

But this… doesn’t seem like something she’d do. We broke up so smoothly, everything settled. So why’s she holding my luggage hostage?