They Canceled My Ticket I Canceled Them Chapter 22

They Canceled My Ticket I Canceled Them Chapter 22

“Ellie, I have nothing left.”

 

He managed a ragged smile.

 

“My company’s gone. The money’s gone. You’re all I have. I know this was all revenge. Fine. I accept it. Can we please start over?”

 

He reached for me, but Riley immediately stepped between us.

 

“Marcus.”

 

My voice was level.

 

“You think far too highly of yourself.”

 

“LN acquired Northstar because it had valuable clients, intellectual property, and growth potential. Suing your company was a business decision to protect our new asset.”

 

“You think I would spend three years of my life just to get revenge on you? You’re not worth it.”

 

I looked past him to Madison, who was hiding at the back of the group.

 

“And as for you—without these three men to co-sign your loans, pay your bills, and absorb the consequences of your actions, you finally have to answer for yourself.”

 

Madison went pale. She covered her ears and sank to the ground, sobbing.

 

I ignored them and turned toward the car waiting at the curb.

 

As I opened the door, I remembered that afternoon on Bainbridge Island three years ago.

 

That day, I had mailed a postcard to myself.

 

The ink was a little blurred now, but I still remembered what I had written:

 

“Stop guessing. Keep going.”

 

The car door shut.

 

Riley didn’t immediately tell the driver to go.

 

“Ms. Preston, your lawyer just sent an email regarding the apartment you co-owned.”

 

I took the tablet from her.

 

Three years ago, I had left the paperwork authorizing my lawyer to handle my share of the apartment on the dining table. Marcus had never dealt with it. Now, with the company in liquidation, he could no longer delay the sale.

 

The first page of the attachment was the authorization I had signed back then.

 

The liquidator required the sale to be completed within ten days.

 

But Marcus had added one condition.

 

Before he would sign, he wanted me to meet him at the apartment, alone.

 

I stared at the line for a moment, then turned off the screen.

 

The ten-year game of guessing games was over.

 

This last time, I wasn’t playing by his rules either.

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