Page 2 of Broken Destiny

He studied me, then gave a short nod. “Yes, sir.”

When the door closed behind him, the silence returned. I dragged a hand across my face, and exhaled slowly as the weight of the past settled on my shoulders once again.

Montreal.

Another lead.

Another possibility.

Another chance to finally confront the woman who had destroyed me.

My gaze drifted to the locked drawer in my desk.

I opened the drawer and pulled out the photograph.

She was smiling in the picture, her dark hair falling loosely around her shoulders, her eyes bright with a warmth that had once felt like home.

I remembered the exact moment that photo had been taken—Lucas laughing beside her, sunlight pouring through the window, the air filled with a sense of peace I had been too blind to appreciate at the time.

The memory twisted inside me like a knife.

I picked up the photograph, my fingers tightening around the frame as conflicting emotions surged through me—anger, longing, disbelief, and something worse buried beneath it all.

Love.

I hated that word.

I hated what it still did to me.

Because despite everything she had done—despite the lies, the disappearance, the money—some stubborn part of my heart wouldn’t let her go. That weakness felt like a wound that neverhealed, a crack in my armour that no amount of time or anger had been able to seal.

I had spent years searching for her… not for closure or forgiveness, but for answers, for justice, for revenge.

Nyah had betrayed me, and she had taken my trust and turned it into a weapon. She would finally answer for what she’d done. I would look into her eyes and demand the truth she had denied me for so long.

What if she had not betrayed me…

My chest constricted at the thought, uncertainty flickering briefly through the cracks in my resolve before I crushed it down.

No.

I had seen the video with my own eyes.

She had taken the money… vanished… chosen to leave.

That was the truth I had built my life around, the foundation beneath every decision I had made since the day she disappeared.

Doubt was a luxury I could not afford.

I placed the photograph back in the drawer and locked it.

The hunt was not over.

If anything, it had become the only thing keeping me moving forward.

And this time, when I found her, there would be no running or hiding or escaping.

Because the man she had left behind was gone. What remained now was a whirlwind of turmoil she had created, and sooner or later, she would have to stand in the middle of it.