It’s over. After six months, I’m going home. Pregnant, broke, and homeless. 

What a disaster.

After General Espada’s speech about family, he ordered me on the first plane out of here. I wasn’t that surprised. Tyrants like him talk a big game, but they always trample on the virtues they espouse.

Photos of me sobbing at the government-sponsored bonfire prompted a response from Amnesty International. They demanded the release of the “imprisoned American.” After the dissolution of the embassy, President Cortés decided I was a liability. 

I’m flying on a private jet. Which is great, because I’ve had no privacy to grieve. 

I’ll never, ever see August again.

Heavy rain pelts the windows, condensation rising up the glass like fog. A thick blanket of moisture presses over my nostrils as I walk. The drizzle makes the jungle heat oppressive, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t deal with humidity again. Instead I’ll bake under California’s punishing sun. Without housing, I’m in for a rough summer.

I ignore the panic climbing my throat. I have nowhere to stay. My friends might let me crash for a few weeks, and then what?

A homeless shelter?

Behind a steel wall in my mind, my fists rage and I scream. 

I’ll figure it out. 

“Sorry,” Alex says, as though it can erase the past forty-eight hours. “I wish I could take it back.”

My disgust simmers to a boil as Alex rakes his black hair in the lobby, his eyes shining with grief. “What I did was selfish and reckless.” He enunciates his words with a tortured despair. “And now you hate me.”

“I don’t.” I can’t muster the energy. “You didn’t set those farms ablaze.”

Their father deserves all the blame. 

He rips the gold stripes from his shoulder. “I’ll build them homes. I swear.”

I hope he does.

“It’s time to go.” Alex grabs my luggage, pain radiating from his young face. 

I hesitate. “What’ll happen to August?”

Tension tics in his jaw. “I’ll do what I can.”

We walk outside the airport, following a train of guards. Alex rolls my suitcase and hands it to an attendant.

I can’t quite smile. “Goodbye.”

“Lily, wait!”

I pause up the stairs leading to the airplane.

Alex faces me, devastated. “What will you do?”

“Live.” I don’t need August for that. “That’s all anyone can do.”

“Thank you for what you’ve done,” he shouts over the wind. “I’m sorry.”

Once inside, I sink into the same white leather chair I used on the way here. The space where August sat eats at the shell around my heart. 

Even if he called, I wouldn’t want to hear his voice. All his lies stole that comfort from me.

With a loud scream, the jet rushes forward. My spine presses into the seat. I hold tears until I glance out the window at the rapidly shrinking jungle that was home.

He was a liar, but he made me feel loved.

And I’ve left that behind. For good.

I take my time leaving the plane’s cabin. It’s my last tie to the place where I had a husband, a home, and a purpose. 

A chilly fog descends as we approach the gate. I breathe in the mild air, shivering in the lack of humidity. The moment I walk through, my phone pings with dozens of missed texts. A dull ache pounds in my heart as I roll the suitcase. I should have spent the flight begging people, but I couldn’t face it.

Now what?

I stand in the bustling airport. I must be the only person here without a destination. Laughter shakes from my chest, and then a choked sob.

“Excuse me, miss.” A man dressed in a suit approaches me, holding a placard with my name. “Are you Lily Osborn?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely. I’m Arthur.” He beams. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Osborn. Please follow me.”

We shake hands. “Who are you?”

“Oh, sorry. Luke Pardini comped your transportation. Are you familiar with him?”

“The vice president of the hotel chain?” A vague image of a handsome man splashed over San Francisco local news cycles through my head. “I know little about him.”

“He emailed you weeks ago,” Arthur says.

Eyes widening, I swipe my cell phone to check my email. Hundreds of unread messages pile in my inbox. “I haven’t been up to date. Could you tell me what this is?”

He takes my luggage and leads me outside. The air is frigid. It bites my limbs as he packs my bag into the trunk. 

“When Mr. Pardini learned you were from the Bay Area, he set you up in an apartment near the city to help you get on your feet. His charity also allows for a stipend.”

Numb with shock, I duck into the Benz. “I don’t understand. Why do all this for a stranger?”

Arthur starts the car, pulling from the curb. “Mr. Pardini is involved in many humanitarian efforts around the globe. Your case was highly publicized. Millions of Americans watched that video, Miss Osborn.”

“It’s Espada, actually.” I feel the need to defend myself. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Arthur gazes at me through the rearview mirror, voice softening. “We know, hon.”

“You do? I-I thought I’d return to a lynch mob.”

He clicks his tongue. “Of course not. The moment I saw you stammering through that press conference, I knew you were coerced. It was obvious.”

I sink into the seat, exhaling a tense breath. “Not to everyone.”

Especially that fucker in the embassy. I’m silent for the rest of the ride, overwhelmed by the scenery rolling by. It’s so different. We pass a street with Victorian homes. He gestures toward a salmon-colored apartment building with enormous bay windows. 

“Here we are.”

I gape at the ritzy neighborhood. I’ve never been here, but it looks expensive. “Where are we?”

“Noe Valley.” Arthur smiles, opening the trunk. “You should visit the chocolate store on Twenty-fourth.”

“Wait—I can’t pay him back. This is way too much.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He laughs at my suggestion. “Mr. Pardini has more money than he knows what to do with. Trust me.”

It doesn’t feel right to mooch off him. “Can I get in touch with him? I’d like to thank him for everything.”

“His contact information is inside.” Arthur hauls my bag to the top of the landing and slides a key into the green door. It reveals a narrow hallway with wooden floorboards.

They creak as I walk. 

“You’ll find an envelope with keys and a letter from Mr. Pardini. Welcome home.”

I have a place to sleep because of a generous stranger. Blinking away tears, I throw my arms around Arthur. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He gently disengages from me. “I’ll let you settle in.”

“Bye.”

He bounds down the steps, and I close the door, mind buzzing with fatigue. I peek through the furnished rooms. It’s a two-bedroom apartment. Gorgeous. Probably costs a fortune. 

I can’t believe my luck. A billionaire took pity on me. What are the chances?

In a daze, I leave my suitcase in the foyer and head into the kitchen. A gift basket sits on the round table. I take the envelope attached to the plastic and rip it open.

A sob breaks from my chest, and the letter floats to the floor. I grab my phone to dial his number, but the tears are flowing too thick. He won’t understand me through my sobbing.

I’ll email instead.

I scroll through my cell, heart stopping as a familiar name blinks in my inbox.

August.