The Divorced Heiress Is Entering a New Marriage

When the elevator finally reappeared, a sense of relief filled me. The security guard rode down with me, then stepped outside with me.

“Your ID card and access card,” he said, holding out his hand.

I handed him both.

Once he disappeared back into the building, I breathed In deeply. Well. That could have gone worse, I reasoned.

In my car, I plugged my phone back in immediately and started charging.

On my way back home, as a consolation prize to myself, I stopped at convenience store and picked up at pint of ice cream. Yet when I tried to purchase it at the checkout, my credit card declined.

“That can’t be right,” I told the cashier. “Try again.”

She did, with the same result.

“Try this card,” I said, handing her a different one.

That one also declined.

What the hell was happening?

The people behind me in line coughed impatiently.

“My debit card then,” I said, handing her that one next. There was enough money in my account, I was Sure of it.

“Declined,” the cashier said. She glanced at me like I was a deadbeat holding up her line. It made me feel like I should apologize even if this wasn’t my fault.

“That can’t be,” I said.

*Please step out of line, ma’am, if you can’t afford to pay,” the cashier said.

Humiliated, I did as she asked and rushed back to my car.

My phone charged enough to turn on now at least, I called my bank first thing.

“We’re sorry, Miss Whitaker,” the customer service agent told me, whenever I could finally convince the robot who initially answered that I needed to speak with a live agent. “It says here this account has been flagged for possible fraud. We’ll need you to come into the main office with identification to sort this out.”

“I’m nowhere near the main office,” I said.

“I apologize, ma’am. But that’s the only way to resolve this.”

I wanted to lose my temper, but I reminded myself whatever was happening here was not this customer service agent’s fault.

“Thank you for your time,” I said and hung up.

By now, my phone had fully restarted, and I saw the slew of missed calls and messages from Logan.

Dylan had some too.

Opening my text thread, one stood out. The most chilling. The one I wished I had read before I walked into the office this morning.

Grandfather knows.

Finding Logan’s contact, I pressed call.

He answered almost immediately. “Hazel? Thank God. Where are you?” The worry in his voice was palpable and struck through me like a sledgehammer.

“I’m in my car,” I said. “I’m sorry, I hung out with the girls on video chat last night and I forgot to plug in my phone…”

“It’s fine. So long as you are okay, it’s fine. I just have something to tell you, Hazel.

“Your Grandfather knows about us. Yes, I know.”

“You saw the messages.”

“He had me fired,” I said.

Logan went quiet on the other end of the phone. Then he cursed. “Of course he would. I’m sorry, Hazel. should have expected that. I guess I didn’t expect him to be able to track you down so quickly, but I should have known better. He was pissed as hell.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I didn’t like it here anyway.”

Logan hummed in understanding. “Then you need to get back here right away. As soon as possible. There’s no telling what else he might do.”

“I’d love to,” I told him. Looking down at my dash, my fuel gauge caught my eye. “But, I, uh, might have a problem…” Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

“What is it?” Logan asked.

I hated to ask this, but I didn’t see any other way. “Is there any way you could buy me some gas?”