Mia Hart opened her apartment door at eleven at night and found her best friend standing outside, looking worn out and holding an old suitcase.
"Before you ask," Savannah said, "yes, I’m fine. No, I don’t want to talk about it. And yes, I know I look like a mess."
Mia stared at her for a second, then stepped aside.
"Get inside before the neighbours call the police."
Savannah smiled and dragged her suitcase inside. Mia’s apartment was small and cozy. It had two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen and a living room with books stacked everywhere.
Mia closed the door and crossed her arms.
"Okay," she said. "Spill."
"I told you..."
"You told me nothing." Mia pointed at the couch. "Sit. I’m making you tea. And then you’re going to tell me everything."
Savannah nodded and sat. A few minutes later, Mia handed her a cup of her favourite jasmine tea. Savannah wrapped her hands around the cup and stared into it.
"I rejected Ethan’s proposal," Savannah said.
"Everyone in the city knows that!" Mia said as she dropped onto the couch beside her. "I called you so many times but I couldn’t get through."
"I had turned it off," Savannah replied, taking a sip.
Mia sighed.
"Savannah... you’ve been with Ethan for two years. Last month, you told me you thought he might be the one."
"I was wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"I can’t explain it right now," Savannah replied. "But I need you to trust me."
Mia looked at her for a long moment. They had been friends since their first week of law school. They had been paired together for a mock trial and Savannah had frozen during her opening statement. Mia had covered for her and they had been inseparable ever since.
Mia had also been the only person in Savannah’s life who had never once been charmed by Celeste.
"Okay," Mia said. "I trust you. I don’t understand what’s happening, and I’ll probably ask you a hundred questions tomorrow. But no matter what...I’ll always be with you."
"Thank you," Savannah said, her eyes filled with gratitude.
"So...you finally left your shit family. What took you so long?" Mia asked, leaning into the couch.
"My father kicked me out, actually."
"Even better." Mia raised her cup in a mock toast. "Congratulations. You’re finally free."
"I don’t feel free yet," Savannah said, clinking her cup against Mia’s.
"Don’t worry. You will...soon," Mia stood up and grabbed a blanket from the side and tossed it at her. "Your room is small and the mattress is lumpy, but it’s yours for as long as you want."
"Mia..."
"Don’t thank me." Mia was already walking towards her own room. "Just don’t make me regret it by getting murdered or married to someone awful."
"I’ll try," Savannah laughed.
"I had a busy day. I’m going to sleep. Make yourself comfortable. Goodnight," Mia continued over her shoulder.
"Goodnight, Mia."
Savannah sat on the couch for a long time after Mia left, thinking about her next step. She took a sip of her tea and yawned. Exhaustion washed over her.
"I should sleep first."
When she woke up the next morning, she had already decided what to do. After Mia left to meet her client, Savannah went out too. It was Sunday. And she knew her target, Ansel Locke, would be at his estate today.
She stood across the street from the Locke estate and stared at the gate. It reminded her of the last night of her last life. When she had stood outside these same gates and no one had opened them. Her gaze moved to the intercom box through which she had heard Ansel’s voice.
I don’t help leeches.
Suddenly, cameras flashed from across the street, bringing her back to the present. Savannah sighed.
She had expected the press to be there. The video of Margaret Moore calling her a gold digger was still trending. She didn’t care about her reputation or the press anymore. What good was a reputation if protecting it only got her killed?
This time her priority was herself and not what others thought of her.
She took a deep breath and walked to the gate.
Leo was already standing inside the gate with a tablet in hand.
"Miss Quinn," he said.
"Mr. Grant."
"Mr. Locke is not receiving visitors."
"I know," Savannah replied calmly. "I’m not here to see him. I’m here to leave him a message."
Leo raised his eyebrows with curiousty.
"A message?"
"Tell him...I’ll wait," she said.
"I’m sorry?"
"I’ll wait. Until he is ready to talk."
"Miss Quinn, I don’t think you understand..."
"I understand everything," Savannah cut him off. "That’s why I’ll wait. I hope he won’t take too long."
Having said that, she stepped back from the gate and walked away. She knew Ansel hated the Quinns and especially her after she had slapped him. And the more desperate she acted, the more he would distance himself. So she needed to act carefully.
Upstairs, Ansel watched everything from his study’s window. On the monitor on his desk,the gate camera showed everything in high resolution.
"Ansel."
Ansel turned. Madame Eleanor Locke stood in the doorway of his study, leaning on her cane.
"Who is at the gate?"
"No one," Ansel replied.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes.
"Don’t lie to me. A girl is talking to Leo at the gate. There’s no way you don’t know who she is."
Ansel sighed.
"Just someone who doesn’t know when to leave."
Eleanor walked to his study table and looked at the security camera.
"Grandma?" Ansel said, walking towards her.
Eleanor didn’t answer. Her hand tightened around her cane and her usual sharp expression softened.
"Grandma, what is it?"
"Rosalind," she whispered.
Ansel frowned.
"What?"
Eleanor didn’t bother to answer. She was staring at Savannah walking away from the gate. On the security camera, she could see her clearly. She had the same dark hair, face and eyes.
She looked exactly like the woman who had pulled her husband out of a burning car, fifty years ago.
Is she Rosalind’s blood granddaughter? Why is Ansel treating her like this? I...I need to see her alone.
Back at Mia’s place, Savannah tried to remember everything she could about Ansel from her last life. If she wanted Ansel to cooperate with her, she needed leverage.
In her last life, she had never met Ansel face to face again after rejecting him. Or maybe they had seen each other at some galas. She wasn’t sure.
But she had occasionally read news about Ansel Locke. She racked her brain hard and finally remembered a news article about Harlow Holdings. It was a shell company with a hidden trail of money that would eventually expose his uncle Victor’s schemes.
But I have no proof. He will never believe me.
"Think. Think, Savannah. You have..."
Before she could complete her thought, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Leo.
"Miss Quinn.
Mr. Locke says that if you come back to the estate again...he’ll call the police."