Chapter Twelve
Autumn
“This is a shit hole,” Viviana jokes as Kian opens the door for us.
Poor guy is our driver today. Viviana never leaves the mansion without one of them. There’s always a second car behind ours too, with four more men inside.
I never noticed it before, but I’ve never really been out and about like this. It’s usually work outings or meetings at the mansion or the penthouse. I get that they have money and, from what I saw in the hospital, a lot of influence, but this feels like a bit much.
“This next one sounds promising,” I say, flipping through the photos.
“They’re all awful,” Kian mutters, and I shake my head.
“Don’t be such a pessimist… You’re bringing bad vibes. I’ll never find a place,” I tease, and a flicker of a smile ghosts over his lips.
“You can stay with us longer. Or use the penthouse if you want more privacy,” Viviana offers again.
She keeps trying to convince me to stay, but I need my own place. I lost everything in the fire; clothes, cameras, my computer.
I’ve got some money saved, just enough to get a new camera and somewhere to live. The rest… I’ll figure it out one day at a time.
Declan even offered one of the apartments in his building, but I looked up the rent there. It’s ten times more than what I can afford. And there’s no way in hell I’d let him drop it just for me.
Call it pride or stubbornness, but I was proud of that little apartment. My books, my bed, my space. I earned it, all on my own.
Viviana told me they still don’t know how the fire started. It spread fast because of the material the owner used. Now it’s in court, claims stacking up, but we both know how long that’ll take. And the owner? Gone. Disappeared like smoke. No one can even find him to serve the papers.
We pull up to the next building that is three stories tall, two brick buildings side by side. They look like they’ve been recently restored. There’s a private lot next to it and a keypad at the main door.
“How is this apartment so cheap?” I whisper.
Viviana and Kian both shrug.
Kian parks, and I open the door, stepping out.
“You wait for me to open it,” he scolds.
I stare at him. Is he serious?
I’ve never had a man open a door for me. Ever.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Miss Autumn,” the realtor greets, smiling as she punches in the code.
We take the stairs to the second floor. No elevator, but the marble and wood feel… classic. The whole building looks like it survived a war and came out charming instead of broken.
I catch my breath halfway up the stairs, my lungs aching faintly. It’s better than before, but the smoke damage still lingers, like something curled up inside me hasn’t quite let go.
“This unit just hit the market last night,” the realtor says, unlocking the door and tapping a code into the alarm. “I thought it might be perfect for you.”
The moment I walk in, my breath catches again, for different reasons.
The space is double the size of my old place. Open layout, clean lines, soft light pouring through wide windows.
I cried for days over my stuff, the few memories and photos I had from my life before all turned to shit.
That place finally felt like home… and it all went up in flames.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, smiling as I step into the living room.
There’s a deep brown couch with a chaise longue, perfectly angled toward a mounted flat screen. Two shelves stand tall by the window, almost begging for books and candlelight.
I drift toward the kitchen, fingers brushing the cool counter. It’s fully equipped, fridge, oven, stove, microwave. Everything.
“Autumn,” Viviana calls from the bedroom.
I glance back as Kian starts questioning the realtor about the owner, then follow her voice down the hall.
I step inside the room… and stop cold.
The walls are a soft, earthy green. The furniture, dark oak, heavy and warm. There’s a king-sized bed with a high headboard, two matching nightstands, a delicate vanity, and… gods.
That desk.
It’s wide and old and beautiful, with legs carved like vines, and a branch-like chandelier hangs above it all, casting faint golden shadows.
“This is so you,” Viviana grins.
I walk further in, turning slowly, dizzy from how right it feels.
It’s perfect, maybe even a little too perfect.
How the hell am I this lucky?
Spinning back toward the realtor, I try to keep my voice steady. “Six hundred a month?”
She nods, casual, like she hasn’t just tilted my entire day sideways.
“And when will the landlord pick up the furniture and appliances?” I ask, already calculating what I could afford to replace. A bed. A stove. Maybe a small table from the thrift shop.
“They stay,” she says simply. “Furniture and appliances come with the unit.”
“What?” I frown. “And the deposit?”
There’s no way this isn’t a setup for something ridiculous.
“No deposit,” she says.
I freeze. Viviana does too.
Kian speaks before I can. “I checked the owner. He’s reliable. Keeps his places affordable.”
He leans against the doorframe, but something flickers in his eyes when he looks at Viviana.
What aren’t they saying?
“Miss Autumn, are you interested?” the realtor asks, her voice polite, patient.
I open my mouth, but Viviana’s already moving.
“She is,” she says with finality, ushering the woman toward the kitchen counter. “Can she sign it now?”
“Yes, of course.”
My heart is still hammering. My brain’s spinning like a broken reel.
This is too good, not just the price, but the place itself, the fact it showed up right when I needed it.
I already sent her my documents and banking info. She showed me two shitty apartments yesterday, and now this?
Part of me wants to wait. To slow down. To investigate every corner, look up the owner, figure out the catch.
But the other part of me?
The other part wants to fall into that bed and not get up for a week.
Maybe it’s finally my turn to be lucky.
I sign the documents, and just like that, she gives me the key, turns around, and leaves.
I don’t think. I just run after her. Down the stairs, coughing halfway as Viviana and Kian call out my name. I catch up, grab her arm.
“What’s the catch?”
The woman gasps, startled, but then she smiles.
“The owner saw the news. You and that family that lost everything… he decided to help. You with this apartment and the family with another one across the city. Affordable, so you can build your lives back up.” She speaks with kindness. A little sorrow too.
I let her go, whisper a thank you.
Okay… that explains it.
Although the decor matching my exact taste still feels a little dodgy, but maybe not. That cottagecore look is trendy now, so who knows.
Walking back up, Kian stands at the door, arms crossed, muscles pulling his suit jacket just enough to make me realize again how in shape these guys all are.
“Are you okay?” Viviana asks.
I nod. “I am. I just can’t believe I found a place.”
My voice holds, but my hands shake, and Viviana steps in, pulling me into a hug.
“Do you want to stay?”
I mumble a yes into her shoulder, tears slipping even though I try to hold them back.
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here, alone, just yet,” Viviana says.
“She’s safe here, it’s a nice street and the building is secure.” Kian gives a ghost of a smile.
“I’ll be fine, you can visit tomorrow, if you want.” I give her a confident stare. “I need this, please.”
Viviana stares at me and finally agrees.
“I’ll have Connor bring you the car,” Kian says, waving goodbye before they both leave.
I look around at my new home, I didn’t have much at the Callaghans’ estate, just a small bag with a few things Viviana brought me after I left the hospital.
I lock the door and sit on the couch.
Four days since the fire, and I found a place. The perfect place.
Now I need to get a camera and a computer, something to start working again, to make money.
I managed to save two thousand, but that won’t last long. I need to move fast.
I grab my phone, my new phone, the one Viviana gave me and refused to let me pay for, and search for secondhand listings. Cameras, laptops. Even used, they’re expensive.
I should panic, but I look around instead. I’m alive, not hurt or burnt. I have a roof over my head, and not just any roof, this one feels like hope.
I can do this. I will do this.
First, groceries. I saw a little market around the corner.
I take the key and the codes the realtor left on the counter and head out.
At the market, I grab the basics. Shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, a comb, a toothbrush.
Bread, milk, butter, cheese, a few frozen meals.
On the way back, the sun’s setting. The building lights are on, casting a soft glow against the brown bricks. The two trees out front sway slightly, and for a second, the whole place looks like something from a dream.
I punch in the code and pause when I see a small red light above the door, it’s a camera.
I shrug and keep walking, but I notice two more on the way up, it makes me feel safer, because I didn’t tell anyone, but my gut’s been screaming the same thing since that night, that the fire wasn’t random, it was meant for me.
He saw the paper in the window. He didn’t like being called out; maybe he had had enough and wanted to kill me.
A chill runs down my spine at the thought of all those lives that could’ve been lost because of me.
The door closes behind me, and I lock it, turning on the alarm.
I never had one before. I should’ve.
I open the oven and slide in the frozen lasagna. Thirty minutes. That’s what the box says.
The bathroom’s small but clean. I place the new items where they belong: shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush in a cup by the sink. I turn on the shower and wait for the steam to fill the space.
No bathtub in this one, but I don’t care. The warm water feels like heaven. I stand under the spray and close my eyes, and of course, my thoughts betray me.
Flynn.
I haven’t seen him since the hospital.
After the hotel, I was sure that was it, that I’d pushed too far, that he was done with me, but he came.