My jaw clenches and I finally recover. “While you remain in South Korea, my men will be your security. Twenty-four hours, seven days a week. There are already two stationing themselves outside your door. They’ll remain there until you board yourflight.”
If she wants to argue, she decides against it. Her mouth opens and then shuts, and she simply sighs and nods.
“Fine.”
They’re the final words spoken between us. Just another marker of how we’ve deteriorated; how we’ve allowed our relationship to die with our son.
I turn and walk out of her apartment, my spine rigid and my face a mask of ice.
But I’ve never felt more desperate and uncertain.
More…terrified.
It’s not until I reach the downstairs lobby that I allow myself a moment to stop and rue what just happened. The fact that not only am I failing to protect my rabbit, but she’s leaving for good.
Black Shell has not only remained five steps ahead, he’s winning.
He took my family and then he took my son. He destroyed the happiness I had with Monroe, and now she’s slipping through my fingers permanently.
Worst of all, it seems there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.
23.Monroe
“Alright,baby, I’m heading to the market. You need anything while I’m out?”
I look up from the box I’ve been sorting through and shake my head. “I’m good, Mom. Thanks.”
Mom grabs her purse and pauses at the door, glancing back at me with an expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually starting to get used to having armed men follow me around. Makes me feel like a celebrity.” She snorts out a laugh. “A celebrity who’s buying discount produce, but still. Might as well call me Beyoncé.”
I manage a small laugh despite everything. “Jin’s orders. You know how he is.”
“Mmhmm. Controlling and overprotective, even when you ain’t together.” She shakes her head with more exasperated humor. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t work too hard.”
The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly I’m alone in the apartment with nothing but boxes and memories for company.
I turn back to the task at hand—sorting through everything I’ve accumulated over the past few years as an expat, deciding what to take back to Philly and what to donate or throw away.
It’s tedious work, the kind that keeps your hands busy while your mind wanders to places you’d rather not go. Every item I pick up seems to carry some weight of the life I built here.
The same life I’m now dismantling piece by piece.
The box in front of me is filled with things from my time at Suyeong Academy—textbooks, lesson plans, a mug one of my students gave me for Teacher’s Day, even a stack of colorful drawings from my younger kids.
I smile at some of them, a sense of loss panging me for the classroom I’ll never return to. I’ll never get the chance to see my students progress with their English and the bright happy expressions come across their little faces the more they learn.
Maybe I can give some of these books to Kelly. At least the ones in good condition. Or donate them back to the school for the next English teacher who takes my place.
I dig deeper into the box, pushing aside folders and supplies. My hand closes around something smooth and metallic and cool to the touch.
The tin of Saenggang-cha.
I pull it out slowly, staring at the familiar container with its simple design and Korean lettering. The ginger tea was Mr. Noh’s gift to me, given with such warmth and kindness when I first started struggling with morning sickness during my pregnancy.
He’d told me it would help settle my stomach. His wife swore by it during her own pregnancy many years ago.
I’d sampled the ginger tea only to quickly discover he was right. It eased the terrible spells of nausea I was experiencing and made it easier to get through the school day.
I started drinking itdaily.
