Chapter 6 - THE CABIN IN THE MISTThe rain was hammering the windshield of the SUV when Robert finally spotted the address the investigator had flagged: a weathered, salt-bleached wooden cabin tucked into the cliffs overlooking a turbulent, gray ocean.
Smoke curled lazily from the stone chimney.
Robert killed the engine, threw open the door, and sprinted up the wooden steps of the porch, the storm soaking through his expensive designer suit in seconds. He hammered his fist against the heavy oak door.
Once. Twice.
The door clicked open.
Laura Monroe stood there wearing an oversized fisherman’s sweater, her dark hair tied back loosely. She looked tired, but there was an unshakeable calmness in her eyes that made Robert stop dead in his tracks.
She wasn't surprised to see him.
"You’re a hard man to track down, Laura," Robert panted, the rain dripping from his chin. "My father... my father is dying. The doctor says he won't make it through the day."
Laura looked at him for a long, agonizing moment. The wind howled against the side of the cabin, carrying the scent of salt and wet pine.
"I told you what would happen when you let the cold back into that house," she said softly, her voice steady.
"I know!" Robert cried, stepping closer, his corporate armor completely shattered. "I was a fool. I listened to the wrong person. I fired you, I insulted you, I destroyed everything. But please—you’re the only one he wants. Name your price. Double the salary, triple it, ownership of the estate—whatever you want, just come back."
Laura’s eyes flashed with a sudden, sharp fire. She reached out and pushed the door open wider, revealing the simple, warm interior of the cabin—a pot of vegetable soup simmering on a cast-iron stove, books stacked neatly by a rocking chair.
"You still don't get it, do you, Robert?" she said, her voice cutting through the roar of the ocean. "You think everything in this world can be bought back with a checkbook. You think my life, my dignity, and your father’s will to live are just commodities you can re-acquire when your stock falls."
May you like
She stepped back, her hand resting on the doorknob.
"I am not a piece of inventory on your balance sheet, Mr. Vale. And I am not going back."
