[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-26032289AC7C-178":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},178,17,"Chapter 17: The Girl In The Red Scarf","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Callahan Meyer’s public severance of ties with Alexandria Rodriguez was absolute. The message was clear.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">But Callahan had no time to focus on the media fallout back home. On the train to Montreal, he received an international call from Peter Cole.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Peter’s voice sounded aged and thin, thick with congestion, as if he had been weeping for hours. \"Callahan... we—we saw what Alexandria posted, and we saw your statement. That girl, is she... is she really lying about everything? The ice storage, the accident, the injuries... did she stage it all herself?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Sir,\" Callahan interrupted, his voice weary but steady. \"Maya never hurt her. Not once. Alexandria orchestrated the entire thing. We were all fooled, blinded by our own biases.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">On the other end of the line came the sound of Martha Cole’s ragged sobbing, followed by Peter’s heavy, uneven breathing.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Then... what we did to Maya... locking her up, forcing her to take the fall...\" Martha sobbed. \"She must have been in such agony! She was already injured, she’d just lost her baby... We’re monsters, Callahan. You have to find her. Tell her that her mother and father know they were wrong. Tell her to come home. We’ll make it up to her—we’ll treat her twice as well as before...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Come home?*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Callahan’s jaw tightened. He raked a hand through his hair, his face a mask of jagged, raw regret.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Come home?\" He gazed out the train window at the desolate, autumn landscape of a foreign country, his voice barely a whisper. \"Mr. and Mrs. Cole, do you honestly think she still has a home to return to?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The crying on the other end ceased abruptly, replaced by a dead, suffocating silence.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">After a long moment, Peter’s voice returned, raw and gravelly with remorse: \"We... we were the ones who destroyed her home.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">After hanging up, Callahan leaned his forehead against the cold windowpane and closed his eyes.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Maya, did you hear that? They regret it.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*But it’s too late, isn't it?*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*I regret it, too.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*I regret not seeing the truth sooner. I regret not standing by your side when you needed me most. I regret hurting you and pushing you away.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*But is there still time?*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Deep autumn had settled over Montreal, and sycamore leaves blanketed the ground. Here, Callahan began a long, desperate search.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Montreal’s complex linguistic landscape made the task even harder. He scoured every neighborhood, every bistro, every independent bookstore, and every campus he could find, clutching a photo of Maya and asking strangers in halting, broken French and English.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Excuse me, have you seen this young woman? She’s very slender, about this tall... she has beautiful eyes.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Most of the time, he was met with nothing but polite, sympathetic shakes of the head.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">A month bled by. He had walked nearly every street in the city. He had lost weight, his eyes were hollowed out and shadowed, and his face was covered in thick stubble. His expensive suit was crumpled and stained with dust. The once-polished heir of the Meyer family now wandered the foreign streets like a broken man.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Eventually, Peter and Martha, overcome with worry, flew in to help. The three of them wandered the city like lost souls, but they found nothing. The two elders looked increasingly withered, the last flicker of hope in their eyes finally extinguished. Crushed by their own regret, they eventually flew back home.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">When the final cold snap of late autumn arrived, the first snow fell in Montreal.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Fine, delicate flakes drifted down, landing on Callahan’s shoulders and hair, melting into a bone-deep chill.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He stood in the square outside the Notre-Dame Basilica, staring at the central fountain. It had been drained for the season, the basin now locked under a thin sheet of ice.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Just then, a slender figure in an off-white parka and a red scarf caught his eye.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She was standing with her back to him, bent slightly as if she were feeding pigeons. The curve of her cheek, that sharp, delicate chin, the quiet, graceful way she held herself...\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Callahan’s heart stopped.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Adrenaline roared in his ears. He didn't care about anything else; he shoved through the crowd, sprinting toward her. With every ounce of strength he had left, he shouted the name he had obsessed over for a thousand nights:\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Maya—!\"\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272930529]