He Gave Her My Eyes A Story of Final Sight novel Chapter 216

Teresa pulled out of Simon’s garage in a sports car worth three million. She dropped Davina off first, then started driving toward her hotel.

With the top down, wind racing through her hair, Teresa let herself get lost in the rush. The world blurred past, city lights streaming overhead, and for a moment she felt completely free.

Then, out of nowhere, she spotted a shadowy figure on the sidewalk. Something about the way he moved made her heart skip. She hit the brakes hard, pulling over without a second thought, and chased after him. He must’ve noticed her, because he slipped into a bar nearby—gone before she could get a good look.

Teresa didn’t hesitate. She followed him inside.

The place was buzzing, lights flashing everywhere, music thumping so loud it vibrated in her chest. She glanced around, scanning the dance floor, the booths, the bar. The man was nowhere to be seen. Leaning against the counter, she kept searching the crowd, but that familiar silhouette had already disappeared.

After a while, she pulled out her phone and called Hanson.

He picked up right away. “Teresa, what’s going on?”

She hesitated, not sure how to explain what she’d just seen. “Hanson, I think I just saw…” Her voice faded. She changed her mind. “Have you heard anything about Lawrence’s verdict?”

“It was decided a few days ago,” Hanson replied. “Today was his execution. I even saw his body. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to mess with your mood.”

Lawrence was executed today? That was fast. She stood there, silent, not sure what to feel. There was no sense of revenge, no real sadness either. Just a flicker of discomfort that faded as quickly as it came.

Lawrence wasn’t some stranger. They had history. But the man she’d seen outside really did look like him from the side. Maybe she’d just imagined it.

Teresa was gorgeous, easily the most striking woman in the room. She drew attention, especially the wrong kind. A few guys traded looks and started drifting her way, circling but never getting too close. Not enough to call it harassment, but enough to make their intentions clear.

She set her empty glass down. The bartender slid another drink her way, this time a glass of juice. “This one’s on the house,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

Nothing was ever really free in a place like this. Even if it looked like a gift, there was always a catch.

Teresa got up, grabbing her bag. The men who’d been watching scowled at the bartender and then trailed after her as she walked away.