Page 36 of Broken Destiny

Pulling out my phone, I snapped a picture of the painting, making sure every detail was captured clearly.

This wasn't a coincidence.

She was here.

Somewhere in this village, she was here.

She was close, and I could feel it.

I glanced over at Greg, who watched me quietly, his expression serious. He understood without needing words. He knew that nothing—not distance, not time, not obstacles—would stop me from finding her now.

On Monday, after finishing the meeting in downtown Victoria, I would return to this village.

Cowichan Bay was small.

Small enough that everyone likely knew everyone else.

And if that was true, then someone here would know her.

It was time to face my past.

It was time to confront the pain I had carried for years.

It was time to find Nyah.

11

JIYA

“Are you excited about your presentation?” Liam asked from across the desk.

“I’m nervous,” I admitted, biting my lower lip.

A knot sat heavily in my stomach, tightening with every passing minute. My hands were cold despite the warm temperature in the office, and I rubbed them together lightly.

“What you’ve done is truly impressive,” he said. “You’ve outdone yourself, and you should be proud. You’ve taken this to heart. I know Cole would’ve been proud of you.”

His words landed gently but powerfully, making me feel taller and stronger. I drew in a slow breath, smiling slightly.

“I hope the clients like it,” I said.

“I’m sure they will,” Liam replied with an encouraging smile. “The first client is from Vancouver. He should be here any minute now. I’ll see you in the conference room.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

As he walked out, I reached for my phone to distract myself and noticed a new text message waiting on the screen.

Karena

Good luck with your first meeting today. I know you’ve been working hard for it. I’m sure the clients will love it. Take care, and message me later to let me know how it went.

A warmth spread through my chest. Not long ago, seeing her name would have triggered anger, confusion, and suspicion. Now, it stirred something cautious but hopeful.

My mother had kept in touch regularly over the past few months, reaching out through emails and text messages. Every week, she called to check on the children, asking about Lucas’s school and Emma’s latest adventures. She had mentioned that she planned to visit again in a month.

I typed a quick reply thanking her for the message and wishing her a good day before placing the phone back on the table. My gaze drifted automatically to the framed photographs beside my notes—one of Cole smiling warmly at the camera, and another of the children laughing together.

I reached out and touched the edge of Cole’s picture lightly.