Fletcher immediately canceled an important meeting, booked a ticket and flew straight there—only to come back empty-handed again.
In the third year, someone claimed they’d seen me working as an escort in a private club overseas.
In the fourth and fifth years, every time there was news—any whisper—about my whereabouts, Fletcher would rush to the location and investigate it himself.
This time was no different.
He truly believed the rumor might finally be real.
But instead of finding me, he was met with a stranger.
When he got back, he flew into a rage.
“How could you give me such a false report?!” he roared, hurling a glass to the floor.
His assistant went pale, trembling.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Reynold. I should’ve looked into it more carefully,” he stammered. “She was using the same phone as Miss Ashley and her face looked somewhat similar to hers, so I thought she was—”
“The woman in the wedding photo in your office…” The words slipped out barely above a whisper.
Fletcher’s expression eased slightly. In that moment, he realized it wasn’t entirely the assistant’s fault.
The man had only been hired in recent years. He had never met me before, so mistaking someone else for me was understandable.
Fletcher took a deep breath, slumped into his chair and sank into thought.
“Ashley, what kind of game are you playing? Are you toying with me on purpose—keeping me chasing, just so you can feel satisfied?” He slammed a fist into the wall.
It took a long time before he managed to pull himself together.
“Just wait,” he growled, “I will find you—dead or alive. And when I do, I’ll make sure you see… me leaving you, the same way you left me!”
By the time Fletcher got home, it was already past midnight.
The lights were still on. June sat on the couch, eyes red from crying, waiting for him.
As soon as she heard the door, she threw herself into his arms.
“Fletcher, where have you been?” her voice choked with hurt.
A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes. He took her hand and said, “June, I told you not to wait up for me. You should have gone to bed.”
“You went looking for Ashley again, didn’t you?” she demanded.
“Fletcher, it’s not that I don’t want you to remember her, but have you forgotten? She walked out on you at your lowest point and took every cent you had left to save your life. She doesn’t deserve forgiveness!”
Her eyes were wet with tears threatening to spill.