Bound by the Past, Locked by the Heart novel Chapter 15

Willa woke up to the dull throbbing of a hangover, the bright morning light already flooding in through the window.

Sophie was nowhere to be found, leaving behind only a sticky note.

[There's painkillers in the drawer if your head hurts.]

Willa grabbed her phone to check the time, her immediate thought being: Oh crap, I'm late, I'm going to lose my attendance bonus.

It wasn't until her mind cleared completely that she belatedly remembered she had planned to go to the magazine today to quit anyway.

Realizing this, she flopped back onto the bed and dozed off a bit longer, only dragging herself up to answer when her phone started ringing.

"Hello, Xandra."

"Willa, come to my office as soon as you get in."

Willa hung up and got up to wash her face.

Standing in front of the mirror, she carefully applied concealer over the bite mark on her neck. Still feeling paranoid, she dug a silk scarf out of Sophie's closet and tied it around her neck.

Once she was put together, she headed out and caught a cab to the office.

The atmosphere at the magazine was even more oppressive than she had imagined.

The moment Willa stepped into the bullpen, the hushed chatter completely died out.

Colleagues who were usually friendly now avoided her like the plague, acting as though just standing near her would infect them with some terrible curse.

A bitter, self-deprecating smile tugged at her lips.

It didn't really matter. She'd rarely see them after today anyway, so why care what they thought?

She straightened her spine, walked across the floor, and knocked on the editor-in-chief's door.

"Come in," Xandra called out.

Willa pushed the door open and walked in.

Xandra was hunched over reviewing manuscripts. Seeing Willa, she pointed to the chair across from her. "Sit."

The moment she sat down, Willa pulled her prepared resignation letter out of her bag and slid it across the desk. "Xandra, this is my resignation. I'm... leaving."

Now that she was unemployed without a steady income, it made absolutely no sense to keep throwing money down the drain.

She decided to move back into her father's old house in Sycamore Grove.

Once the paperwork was sorted, she hailed a cab and went straight to the old neighborhood on the outskirts of the city.

The house had been empty for years, so she needed to check on its condition first.

But when she reached the familiar courtyard gates, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The wooden door was left slightly ajar, and the muffled, chaotic noise of a television drifted out from inside.

She pushed the door open and stepped in.

The sharp, chemical stench of cheap air freshener hit her face, making her instinctively wrinkle her nose.

Most of the familiar old furniture in the living room was gone. The prized calligraphy painting her father loved so much had vanished from the wall, replaced by a framed family portrait.

She barely took two steps before her foot snagged on something, sending a loud, dull thud echoing through the room.