Page 12 of When He Was Mine

“Mr. Fox insists,” Vlad said.

“Tell him I don’t need his help right now.” I slammed the door and hurried to the lobby as fast as I could with the packages and balloons.

The concierge, a light-haired woman with an elfin face, nodded at me and smirked when she saw the balloons. I almost lost one of them as the elevator doors closed but managed to pull it inside.

It had been a few days since I’d last seen Sadie. With as little free time as my brother, Finley, had, she was spending most nights with him. Their relationship was real, and I was positive they were in love even though they had only been dating for a short time. I wondered if they had more than just a few romps together over the years.

As the elevator ascended, I sighed, leaning back against the wall. The tension with Oliver gnawed at me, but I pushed it aside. Tonight was about planning his birthday, not stewing over our argument. I’d make his birthday special, no matter how stubborn he could be. The doors slid open, and I stepped into the hall, heading to my apartment.

I fumbled for my keys from my purse, juggling the packages I had in my hand. The key stuck, and I had to wiggle it to fit in the lock. It was odd because I never had trouble before. When I finally pushed the door open, what I saw made me drop everything I held.

My apartment was ransacked. Pictures on the wall were topsy-turvy, cushions and pillows littered the floor, and papers were strewn about. And that was only the living room. I dreaded to think what the bedrooms looked like. My heart pounded as I backed out, abandoning all the packages and the balloons floating aimlessly around the entryway.

I jammed my finger on the elevator button several times, tears leaking from my eyes. When the doors finally opened, I dashed inside and pressed the lobby button repeatedly, willing the elevator to move faster.

In the lobby, I rushed to the concierge desk. "Call the police," I gasped, my voice trembling. Without waiting for a response, I dialed Oliver. He answered immediately.

“Over your tantrum?” Oliver’s voice was strained with exasperation.

“Someone broke into my apartment,” I blurted out, my voice quivering.

“What?!” he screamed. I heard him directing someone in the background before he came back on the line. “Where are you?”

“In the lobby. I told the concierge to call the police.”

“Stay there, I’m on my way.”

“I’m afraid,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Don’t be. You’re safe. Brenda should be there in two minutes.”

Where was she that she would be here so quick? Sure enough, Brenda walked out of the fire stairs less than two minutes later. Did Oliver have her living here? I quickly recounted what happened, and she sat me down in one of the mustard-colored upholstered chairs in the lobby. Brenda, a pretty, petite woman with dark chocolate skin and close-cropped hair, soothed me while we waited for the police to arrive.

“Was there anyone in the apartment?” she asked, her voice calm and reassuring.

“Not that I could see,” I replied, my hands trembling in my lap.

Brenda noticed and placed one of her hands over mine. Her touch was reassuring, and I began to calm down until the police arrived. Then, my anxiety surged, and I became hysterical. Two officers went upstairs to check my place while a detective questioned me. Oliver arrived a few minutes after the officers. Brenda got up so he could comfort me.

He put his arm around my shoulders and reached into the pocket of his gray pinstriped jacket for a handkerchief. I dabbed at my eyes while the officer spoke with me. The two uniformed policemen came downstairs to report that the apartment was empty and my jewelry, some cash, and other valuables were still there.

I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking of the gold bracelet my father gave me before he was murdered. It held immense sentimental value. After the officers left, Oliver, Vlad, and Brenda escorted me up to my apartment. The sight of my bedroom was even worse than the living room. It was a mess, and pillows were sliced open, more than likely with a knife.

“What the hell were they looking for?” I muttered, surveying the destruction. “And how did they get up here without being seen by the concierge?”

Oliver’s jaw tightened. “We’ll find out,” he said, his voice resolute. “This won’t go unanswered.”

Vlad was already on his phone, likely coordinating with additional security. Brenda started tidying up the living room, moving with efficient precision.

I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling the shredded pillows beneath me. The chaos around me was overwhelming, but Oliver’s presence was a steady anchor.

"This is why you can't stay here," Oliver said, his voice a mix of concern and frustration as he surveyed the wreckage.

"Obviously. I don’t want to stay here. Who would do this?" I demanded, my voice trembling with both fear and anger.

"Let the police figure that out." He turned to me, his eyes softening. "Do you have some things you want to take to the penthouse? You're not staying here until we catch this person."

"Then I might never come back. What about Sadie? I have to call her." I walked to her bedroom, pulling out my phone and dialing her number.

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