Chased by My Possessive Ex (Dylan) novel Chapter 5

Chapter 5

DYLAN

My parents were evasive, dancing around my questions and dodging every attempt I made to pin them down. Their vague excuses only fueled my frustration. I couldn’t understand why they were being so secretive. Finally, after I made it crystal clear that I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew where they were, they reluctantly sent me their address.

I stared at the message on my phone, my frown deepening as I read the unfamiliar address. This didn’t make any sense. I might not have memorized every property my father owned–there were too many for that–but I was certain this place wasn’t one of them.

The address was in Midtown. My father’s properties were all in quieter neighborhoods or posh suburbs. Midtown, with its busy streets and bustling noise, wasn’t his style at all. What were they doing there? Was this some kind of temporary arrangement? And why hadn’t they told me anything about it?

A dozen questions buzzed in my mind, each one more pressing than the last. My parents loved that house. They poured their hearts into it for years. Selling it didn’t just feel wrong–it felt impossible.

I couldn’t wait any longer. My chest tightened with a mix of confusion and determination. If they weren’t going to explain things over the phone, I’d have to confront them face–to–face. I grabbed my keys, heart pounding, and headed out the door. Whatever was going on, I needed answers, and I needed them now.

The cab ride to Midtown felt like forever, even though the driver assured me it wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur together, my mind racing as fast as the car. I had so many questions, and every possible answer made my stomach twist tighter.

Why didn’t they tell me they sold the house? Why Midtown? And why did it feel like they were hiding something from me?

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, probably noticing my restless fidgeting. “Rough night?” he asked casually.

“Something like that,” I replied, my voice clipped.

He didn’t ask anything else, and I was grateful for the silence. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, not when my entire world felt like it was crumbling.

When the cab finally pulled up in front of the address, I froze for a second, staring at the building. It was a modest apartment complex, the kind that blended into the city without drawing attention. Definitely not the type of place my parents would’ve chosen. My dad had always prided himself on big, sprawling houses, properties that screamed wealth and success. This? This felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“Here you go, miss,” the driver said, jolting me out of my thoughts.

“Are you sure this is the right address?” I asked, still clinging to the faint hope that this was nothing but a mistake.

“Yes, miss. This is definitely the right address,” he replied before pointing at the plaque hanging beside the door.

I blew a loud sigh before I handed him the fare, murmured a quick “thank you,” and stepped out of the cab. The cold air hit me immediately, making me shiver. I zipped up my coat and walked up the steps to the entrance, my boots clicking against the concrete.

I stared at the intercom panel for a moment, hesitating. Part of me wanted to turn around, climb back into the cab, and pretend I hadn’t seen any of this. But I couldn’t. I needed answers.

I pressed the button for their unit, my finger lingering for just a second too long.

The intercom crackled, and my mom’s voice came through, soft and hesitant. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Mom,” I said, trying to sound calm even though my chest felt tight.

There was a pause, long enough to make me shift uncomfortably, then a buzz as the door unlocked. I pushed it open and stepped into the dimly lit hallway.

The elevator was out of order, so I climbed the stairs to the third floor. I was struggling with my luggage, but I did make it to the floor. My legs felt heavy, as if they knew I was walking toward something I might not want to hear.

I knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

The door opened a moment later, and there she was–my mom. She looked different, smaller somehow, like the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders. Her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Come in, sweetheart,” she said softly, stepping aside.

I walked in, glancing around the apartment. It was simple, with just the basics. A small sofa, a tiny dining table, and a few family pictures scattered here and there. Nothing like the warm, sprawling home I grew up in.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked, my voice firmer than I expected.

“He’s in the other room. I’ll get him,” she said, her tone uneasy.

As she disappeared down the hallway, I sank onto the edge of the sofa, my fingers gripping the cushion. My heart raced as the sound of low voices reached my ears, and then my dad walked out, looking just as worn as my mom.

He sat across from me, his expression serious. My mom joined him, taking the seat beside him.

“Okay,” I said, breaking the tense silence. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Why did you sell the house? And why didn’t you tell me anything?”

My dad took a deep breath, exchanging a glance with my mom before turning back to me. “We didn’t want to worry you,” he began, his voice heavy with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Worry me about what?” I asked, my frustration bubbling over.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” my mom said again, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of whatever secret they had been keeping.

My stomach twisted, a sick, uneasy feeling settling in. I clenched my fists and leveled my gaze at them. “Then tell me,” I said firmly, my voice cracking just a little despite my attempt to stay composed. “I have the right to know what’s going on with my parents. You should’ve told me before it came to this.”

They exchanged a look–one of those silent conversations that couples have when trying to decide who would take the fall for delivering bad news. My dad ran a hand down his face, looking older than I’d ever seen him. After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the heavy silence.

“I got mixed up with some… bad people,” he said, his voice low and full of regret. “It started with the business. It didn’t take off the way I’d hoped. Investors pulled out, and we were losing money faster than I could fix it. I thought I could turn it around, but…” He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the invisible weight. “It only got worse.”

I blinked, not fully understanding at first. “What do you mean, ‘worse‘?” I asked, my tone sharper now, laced with fear.

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