I stared at him, my blood running cold. “Naomi?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He nodded, his tone casual, like he was recounting something trivial. “She wanted you gone, said you were ruining things. So, yeah, she set it all up.”
The room felt like it was spinning. Naomi had done this to me. She had orchestrated everything. She had ruined my life.
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. “Make sure Oliver Miller gets this information,” I told the police. “Send him every detail.”
The officers nodded, assuring me they would handle it. I walked out of the station, feeling both hollow and determined.
Later that evening, as I was at the airport preparing to board my flight, my phone rang. It was Oliver.
“Where are you?” he asked, his voice frantic.
I held the phone to my ear, my expression calm despite the storm inside me. “I’m going somewhere you’ll never find me,” I said, my tone flat and final.
Before he could respond, I hung up and blocked his number.
I boarded the plane with no intention of ever looking back.
