Part 10
The old apartment building on the lower east side looked even worse in the gray light of a rainy summer afternoon.
Nathan parked his Range Rover haphazardly on the curb, ignoring the stares of the locals.
He sprinted up the concrete stairs, his heart pounding against his ribs like a sledgehammer.
He reached apartment 3B and knocked frantically.
No one answered.
He knocked again, harder.
"Jenna! Open the door!"
The door to apartment 3A slowly creaked open, and an elderly woman poked her head out.
"If you're looking for the girl, she ain't there," the woman said, chewing on a piece of gum.
"The landlord changed the locks months ago. New people live there now."
Nathan wiped a hand across his face, trying to calm his breathing.
"Do you know where she went? Did you see her today? She has a little girl."
The old woman shook her head.
"Saw her carryin' a couple of suitcases about an hour ago. She looked real sad. Headed down toward the transit station, I think."
"Thank you," Nathan said, already running back down the stairs.
The local train and bus station was a chaotic hive of commuters, loud announcements, and heavy exhaust fumes.
Nathan pushed through the crowd, his tall frame standing out among the hurried travelers.
He searched the platforms.
The waiting rooms.
The ticket lines.
Nothing.
He felt a sudden, crushing weight of despair.
Had he lost them?
Was she gone for good?
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of bright yellow near the long-distance bus platforms.
Daisy’s raincoat.
She was sitting on a large suitcase, holding her giant teddy bear tightly, while Jenna stood in line at the ticket counter, her shoulders hunched forward as if she were trying to disappear.
Nathan didn't call out. He just walked as fast as his legs could carry him.
He bypassed the crowd, stepped right up to the ticket line, and gently placed his hand over Jenna's wallet just as she was about to hand her cash to the cashier.
Jenna gasped and spun around.
Her eyes went wide, reflecting a mixture of shock, fear, and an undeniable spark of relief.
"Nathan..." she whispered, her voice cracking.
"Two tickets to nowhere," Nathan said to the cashier behind the glass.
"Because they're coming home with me."
He grabbed Jenna’s suitcase with one hand and took her wrist with the other, pulling her out of the line.
"Nathan, let go, please," Jenna begged, though she didn't fight his grip.
"You shouldn't be here. The reporters—"
"I don't give a damn about the reporters, Jenna!" Nathan shouted, his voice cracking with an emotion he had never shown before.
The surrounding people turned to look, but he didn't care.
"You wrote a beautiful letter, but you forgot one major detail," he said, repeating the words he had told her on Christmas Eve.
Jenna blinked back tears.
"What detail?"
"An empire doesn't make a man feel successful," Nathan said, his voice dropping to a fierce, passionate whisper.
"I don't care about Calloway Holdings. I don't care about the board."
"I survived poverty once, Jenna. I can do it again. But I cannot survive going back to that empty house alone."
He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers with absolute certainty.
May you like
"I don't love my company, Jenna."
"I love you."
