Chapter 3

Before I could answer Chloe, my phone pinged with a message from Isabelle.

It was a photo. My clothes, my books, my few personal possessions, all piled haphazardly on the curb outside our shared condo.

And there, on top of the heap, unmistakable even in the grainy photo, was the quilt.

My grandmother's quilt, hand-stitched, the last thing she made before she died. Each patch told a story of her life, of our family. It was priceless to me.

"You have one hour to pick up your trash. After that, it's fair game for the scavengers. Or maybe Liam will use it for his dog." The text message under the photo was cold, dismissive.

Rage, pure and hot, flooded through me.

"I have to go," I told Chloe, showing her the picture.

Her eyes flashed. "That monster. Go. I'll be here."

I drove to the condo, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.

The pile was gone. The curb was bare.

Panic seized me. The quilt.

I stormed into the building, using my key on the condo door. It swung open.

Isabelle and Liam were on the sofa, tangled together, Liam's hand resting possessively on her stomach. They looked up, not surprised, but with a shared smirk.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Isabelle said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Come to beg, Ethan?"

Liam chuckled, a low, satisfied sound. "Heard you got dumped. Tough break, buddy."

They were enjoying this, reveling in my pain.

"My grandmother's quilt," I said, my voice tight. "Where is it?"

Isabelle waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, that ugly old thing? Probably in the dumpster by now. Good riddance. It never matched the decor."

"Your family has such tasteless heirlooms, Ethan," Liam added, stroking Isabelle's hair. "So... common."

The casual cruelty of it stole my breath. They mocked my family, my love, my grief.

"I want the quilt, Isabelle."

She scoffed. "It's gone. Get over it."

Liam, however, shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, Izzy, I had the housekeeper move his things to the guest room. Didn't want his junk cluttering up our new life too soon." He winked at Isabelle.

He was lying, I knew it. But a sliver of hope. The guest room.