The Promotion

Chapter Fifty

My gaze stayed fixed on the apartment complex, unblinking.

The building loomed ahead of me, solid and immovable, as if daring me to step closer. I didn't move. I couldn't. It felt as though if I shifted even an inch, the fragile hold I had on myself would unravel completely.

The longer I stared, the less real everything felt. Like I was wandering through a darkened room, hands stretched out in front of me, terrified of what I might touch. I didn't know which direction to take—only that once I crossed that threshold, there would be no turning back.

Silence swallowed the car.

The engine hummed faintly beneath me, a low, distant sound, punctuated only by my shallow breaths. Each inhale felt too short, too sharp. My chest tightened with every exhale, as though my body knew something my mind was still trying to deny.

I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes for a moment, forcing a shaky breath from my lungs. Thoughts collided and scattered, racing so fast I couldn't catch a single one long enough to make sense of it.

There was only one person Sarah could be here to see.

And that truth sat heavy in my chest.

I have to do this.

I repeated the words silently, again and again, until they stopped sounding like a question and began to resemble resolve.

The moment my feet hit the pavement, the weight of the place settled into me. I craned my neck upward, taking in the height of the building. This had once been my home. The place where I believed my future would unfold. Where I had imagined a life that never came to be.

Now it was just concrete and glass.

Empty.

My feet carried me forward without conscious thought. I stood in front of the door, arms stiff at my sides, staring at it as though sheer will might force it open. My hand lifted slowly, fingers curling into a fist.

The knock echoed loudly through the hallway.

Once.

Nothing.

I knocked again, harder this time, the sound reverberating through the apartment. My pulse thundered in my ears. Seconds dragged into something unbearable.

Just as doubt crept in—just as I considered turning away—the handle shifted.

The door opened a fraction.

Calum appeared.

Topless. Barefoot. Jeans slung low on his hips.

For a split second, memory tried to surface—what this sight once meant to me. But the feeling never came. There was no heat. No longing. Just a strange, distant detachment.

"Louisa?" he asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

I straightened, squaring my shoulders. Whatever fear had followed me here hardened into something sharper. Stronger.

I stepped past him without answering.

"What the hell—" he snapped. "You can't just—"

"This place is still in my name," I cut in coldly, turning to face him. "I don't need your permission. Now tell me—where is she?"

The words left my mouth like venom.

Calum frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't insult my intelligence," I said quietly. "Where is Sarah?"

"She's not here."

Something flickered behind his eyes—too quick to miss, too obvious to ignore.

"Then prove it," I said, folding my arms.