“Thank you for the soup. Why don’t you take a little rest?” He coaxed me onto the large bed in the room, tucking me under the thick, luxurious comforter. Then he settled in beside me, pulling me into his arms. His chin rested lightly on the top of my head, his embrace firm and reassuring.
“Still cold?” he murmured against my hair.
I gave a faint hum of acknowledgment, closing my eyes to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. Time seemed to blur as I lay there, cocooned in his warmth. But soon, the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing told me he had fallen asleep.
The dim glow of his phone lit up on the nightstand, drawing my attention. Curiosity got the better of me. I was curious, so I fished it out of the bed and saw that it was a text from his assistant. I put the password, but it didn’t work. The password Brian set for his phone had always been either my birthday or his. I flipped the phone over, inspecting the back, but there was no sign of the dent I had left on his usual phone. This wasn’t the one he normally used.
Since neither my birthday nor his worked, I tried another combination. Maybe he had set it to our engagement day, but that turned out to be incorrect as well.
I sat frozen in frustration, unsure of what to do next. Then, Laurel’s name suddenly crossed my mind. I started testing a series of dates tied to her birthday. After several failed attempts, the phone finally unlocked.
Unconsciously, I smiled—a mix of pride and sadness washing over me. It seemed this was the phone he used to communicate with Laurel.
I glanced at a notification from his assistant. The message read: [Mr. Rocha, the transfer deed for the beachfront tower is finalized.]
There was a file attached beneath it. I clicked on it and the owner’s name was displayed clearly—Laurel Gibbs.
I scrolled through more messages. Estate documents, deeds for mansions, limited-edition sports cars—everything pointed to an unimaginable truth. The hundreds-thousand-dollar beachfront tower was just one of countless extravagant gifts Brian had showered on Laurel.
The earliest record was a will. It says that after his death, all of his inheritance would go to Laurel.
The screen dimmed after being idle for too long and in the sudden reflection, I saw my own lifeless eyes and tear-streaked, reddened nose staring back at me.