The 99th Game Was Mine All Along novel Chapter 91

Chapter 5 

Castro repeatedly called a number he knew wouldn’t answer. 

Every year, he’d meticulously set a reminder for my birthday – August 27th. This morning, the the hard woken him in Oriana’s guest room, the familiar chime cutting through his dreams 

His first instinct had been to head to Whole Foods, to buy ingredients for the birthday dinner he’d planned. 

The custom Cartier bracelet he’d ordered months ago was still hidden in his office safe. 

But seeing Oriana at breakfast, limping slightly, had given him pause. After all, I still hadn’t apologized 

He couldn’t understand it. I’d always been the reasonable one–why was I being so stubborn this time? 

After spending half the day restlessly checking his phone at Oriana’s, he finally headed home. 

The moment he stepped into the penthouse, he felt like he’d walked into a stranger’s home. He actually stepped back out, checked the apartment number, and re–entered. 

The space had reverted to its pre–Aveline state – stark, minimalist, cold. 

In a frenzy, he searched every room for traces of me. The vintage Polaroids from Paris, gone. The sketchbook I kept by the window seat, vanished. The coffee machine he’d bought because I couldn’t function without my morning latte – replaced with his old French press. 

“What the hell is happening?” he whispered, frantically dialing my number only to be greeted by 

voicemail. 

His Instagram messages bounced back – blocked. WhatsApp showed one grey tick, then nothing. 

If not for the ghost of my perfume still lingering in the closet, he might have thought he’d imagined the 

last seven years. 

In desperation, he opened Find My Friends – the app we’d used to surprise each other with lunch dates. 

My location was dark, but the history showed one last ping from two weeks ago. I’d come within a hundred feet of his location, hesitated, then disappeared. 

Something clicked in his mind. He pulled up his calendar, scrolling back. When he saw the date, his iPhone slipped from his trembling fingers, the screen shattering like the illusion of our relationship. 

The transatlantic flight carried me eastward, the sun painting ever–changing portraits outside my 

All Alo 

68.7 

Chapter 5 

window. Brilliant azure skies gave way to rolling clouds tinged with gold, a canvas of nature’s finest work. 

Inspiration struck suddenly, and I pulled out my sketchpad, capturing the ethereal play of light in a new jewelry design. 

By the time I finished, darkness had claimed the sky. 

There was something magical about crossing the Atlantic – a time traveler’s journey where I left New York on the morning of the 27th only to land in London on the night of the 26th. 

Through the arrivals gate, I spotted them immediately – Mum, Dad, and William standing in a row, beaming and waving like excited children at a parade. 

The sight of them made my heart squeeze. 

I ran to them, wheeling designer luggage forgotten as I fell into Mum’s embrace, breathing in her familiar perfume – Chanel No. 5, just as she’d worn all my life. 

Eight years ago, I’d defied their wishes and moved to New York for university, chasing what I’d thought