Chapter 7: Uninvited Guest

I lowered my eyes, ignoring their mocking words, just staring at the bloody scrape on my arm.

But, against everyone’s expectations, the next time I crossed paths with James Donovan, it was actually his son who came looking for me.

I don’t know how he found me.

All I know is that one morning, when I opened the door of my run-down motel room, I saw him standing there alone, backpack slung over one shoulder.

His face, so much like his father’s—cold and unreadable—made me pause.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes fixed on my face. "Are you Natalie Carter? Or just someone using her name?"

Strange. He’d come to my door, yet the first thing he asked was who I was.

“My name is Natalie Carter.” I answered honestly.

The moment I finished, his brows furrowed deeply.

The morning light cut in through the grimy window, catching on the frayed shoulder of his backpack. The hallway smelled faintly of burnt coffee and dust, the silence stretching tight between us.