The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 413

"Classes start on September first. You're heading back to Riverdale University as a junior in the Business Administration program," Garrison explained, his voice smooth and magnetic. "However... your old professors have retired, and the current faculty and students won't recognize you."

Sloane was speechless. She rested the acceptance letter on her lap, her thumb subconsciously stroking the unfamiliar name next to her photo.

"But... this isn't my name."

Garrison reached into his briefcase again, pulling out a small object. He placed it gently on top of the letter.

An ID card.

Brand new, still carrying the faint, slick texture of freshly printed plastic.

It read 'Sloane Sutton,' with Riverdale University listed as the residential address. The photo matched the one on the letter. It was her face, her eyes, her identity—but it wasn't her name.

"This is your new ID," Garrison said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Because your original records were canceled due to the time that has passed. I'm sorry... the name was randomly assigned by the system."

In reality, Garrison had personally selected the name 'Sutton' when submitting the paperwork to Lawrence. It sounded close to 'sudden,' like a sudden revival.

A completely new life.

Sloane picked up the card, letting it rest in her palm.

It was incredibly light, thin, and still carried the residual warmth from the printing machine. She stared at the photo, at the unfamiliar name, and suddenly felt a lump forming in her throat.

Sloane Sutton. Was this who she was now?

Her old identity, Sloane Taylor, had been erased five years ago. Along with her student records, her citizenship, and her entire past.

Or perhaps, it was an apology.

An apology for the bright future he had personally destroyed all those years ago.

"You always deserved a brilliant future."

Sloane's hand trembled slightly around the ID card. She looked down at the thin piece of plastic, at her own face, at her brand-new name, and took a deep breath, swallowing the heavy emotion threatening to spill over.

When she looked back up, there were no tears in her eyes. Only a sharp, refined, unyielding light.

"Thank you," she whispered.