Chapter 7: The Door Closes

The next day, I went downstairs right on time.

Sunlight spilled across the hallway, illuminating the family photos on the wall—snapshots of vacations, holidays, years gone by. I stopped for a moment, suitcase in hand, memorizing the house one last time.

Derek was leaning on the sofa, carefully instructing the house manager about the details of the party.

He spoke with quiet authority, pointing out where to hang the streamers, which playlist to use, how many chairs to set up for Mrs. Whitman’s birthday brunch. He didn’t look at me as I passed by, but I felt the weight of goodbye in the air—a door closing for good. I wondered if he’d even notice I was gone.