15. Chapter 15 Phoenix

Chapter 15 Phoenix

T he corkboard loomed before me, a chaotic mosaic of newspaper clippings, hastily scribbled notes, and red strings connecting the disparate pieces of the puzzle. At the center of it all was a single name: Marcus Wade.

The man who held the key to my mother's death, to the terrible truth I'd been chasing for what felt like an eternity. But despite my best efforts, despite the countless sleepless nights and dead ends, he remained as elusive as ever. A ghost, a phantom slipping through my fingers like smoke.

I closed my eyes, the familiar ache in my chest pulsing like a second heartbeat. The hollow space where hope used to live, now filled with a dull, throbbing pain that tasted like copper and regret.

It had been weeks since I'd walked out of that studio, since I'd left Damon and his broken promises behind. Weeks of throwing myself into the hunt with a single-minded focus that bordered on obsession .

But what did I have to show for it? Nothing but a wall of unanswered questions and a heart shattered beyond repair.

The scent of whiskey lingered on my breath, mingling with the stale air of my makeshift office. The bottle had become my constant companion, the burn of the amber liquid a welcome distraction from the sorrow that clung to me like a second skin.

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my brooding thoughts. Talia slipped into the room, her eyes wide with concern as she took in the scene before her.

"Jesus Christ, Phoenix," she breathed, her gaze darting from the half-empty bottle to the dark circles beneath my eyes. "It's not even noon."

I shrugged, the motion feeling heavy and awkward. "Time is a social construct, darling. And society can kiss my ass."

Talia sighed, perching on the edge of my desk. The warmth of her presence was a balm, a momentary respite from the chill that had seeped into my bones.

"Phoenix, I love you. You know that. And I'm the one who started you on this whole Nancy Drew crusade. But this..." She gestured to the corkboard, the piles of papers and empty coffee cups. "This isn't healthy. You're running yourself ragged, obsessing over things you can't change."

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died on my tongue. Because deep down, in the place where the truth lived, I knew she was right. I was drowning, lost in a sea of grief and anger and unanswered questions.

"I'm worried about you, hon," Talia continued, her voice soft but urgent. "You're not sleeping, you're barely eating. And don't even get me started on the Damon situation."

His name was a knife to the heart, a reminder of everything I'd lost. The sting of unshed tears prickled behind my eyes.

"There is no Damon situation," I managed, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. "We're done. Over."

Talia raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that why he's been blowing up your phone nonstop? Why he's sent enough apology bouquets to open our own flower shop?"

The poems. God, the poems. Each one a bitter reminder of what could have been, of the love we'd almost had. Fifteen sonnets of regret and longing, each one a shard of glass in my already bleeding heart.

"He made his choice," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of the words. "And I made mine. There's no going back, Tal. No matter how many pretty stanzas he pens."

Talia was quiet for a long moment, her gaze searching my face. I could feel the cracks in my facade, the splintering of the mask I'd been clinging to for weeks.

"Maybe we need to take a break," she suggested, her tone gentle but firm. "Go on vacation, get the hell out of Miami for a while. Clear our heads, come back at this with fresh eyes."

I wanted to argue, to cling to my obsession like a lifeline. But the exhaustion in my bones, the weariness that sat like a stone in my gut... it was all too much. Too heavy to carry alone.

"Okay," I breathed, the word a surrender. "Okay. Let's do it. Let's get the fuck out of here."

***

The Maldives were a different world, a technicolor dream of turquoise waters and white sand beaches. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and jasmine, the breeze warm and soft against my skin.

But even in this paradise, I couldn't escape the ghosts that haunted me. They followed me like shadows, whispering their accusations in the quiet moments between the crash of the waves and the clink of ice in my glass.

I sat on the balcony of our overwater bungalow, my legs dangling over the edge as I watched the sun dip below the horizon. The sky was a riot of color, pinks and oranges bleeding together like a watercolor painting.

But all I could see was his face. The guitar player, the first man I'd ever loved. The first one I'd lost to the disease of addiction and self-destruction.

I could still remember the morning I found him, cold and still in our bed. The needle in his arm, the vomit crusted on his chin. The way the light had gone out of his eyes, like a candle snuffed by a cruel wind.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it did nothing to stop the flood of memories. The taste of bile in my throat as I screamed for help. The bruising grip of my father's security team as they dragged me away from his body.

And then... rehab. The white walls and the sterile smell of disinfectant. The burning shame as I spilled my secrets to a room full of strangers, desperate for absolution.

But the guilt never left. It clung to me like a second skin, a tattoo of regret and self-loathing. Another death on my hands, another person I couldn't save.

Talia's voice startled me from my dark thoughts, her hand warm on my shoulder. "Hey, you okay? You've been out here for hours."

I forced a smile, but it felt brittle and false. "Just... lost in thought. Enjoying the view."

Talia's eyes narrowed, seeing through me like she always did. "Talk to me, Phoenix. What's going on in that beautiful, fucked-up head of yours?"

I opened my mouth, the truth sitting heavy on my tongue. But the words wouldn't come, trapped behind the lump in my throat.

"It's nothing," I lied, taking a long swallow of my drink. The alcohol burned, but it was a welcome pain. A distraction from the ache in my chest. "Just... ghosts. You know how it is."

Talia sighed, but she didn't push. Instead, she tugged me to my feet, her smile a little too bright. "Come on. We're going out. Dancing, drinking, bad decisions. It's time to shake off those cobwebs and remember how to live."

I let her drag me back into the bungalow, let her rifle through my suitcase and toss dresses onto the bed like confetti. The woman staring back at me from the mirror looked like a stranger, all hollow eyes and sharp edges.

But as Talia worked her magic, as the war paint of makeup and sequins transformed me into someone new, I felt a flicker of something in my chest. A spark, an ember glowing in the ashes of my broken heart.

Maybe it was time. Time to let go of the past, to stop letting it define me. Time to rise from the ruins of my old life and build something new.

So I squared my shoulders, tossed my hair, and followed Talia out into the warm Maldivian night. The bass pounded through the sand as we approached the beachfront bar, the laughter and chatter of the crowd a siren song.

I couldn't outrun my demons, not really. But maybe, just for tonight, I could dance with them. I could let the music and the alcohol numb the pain, could lose myself in the press of bodies and the salt-tang of sweat.

And maybe, when the sun rose on a new day, I would be ready. Ready to face my ghosts, to look my past in the eye without flinching.

Ready to let the girl I used to be die, so the woman I was meant to become could finally breathe.

As we stepped into the beachfront bar, the pulsing rhythm of the music seemed to sync with my heartbeat, the vibrations traveling up through the soles of my feet and into my bones. The air was thick with the scent of sunscreen, salt, and spilled beer, a heady cocktail that made my head spin.

Talia grabbed my hand, her grin wide and infectious as she pulled me into the throng of bodies. We carved out a space on the dance floor, letting the beat guide our movements as we swayed and shimmied, our laughter lost in the din.

For a moment, I let myself get lost in it. The heat of the bodies pressed against me, the thrum of the bass in my blood, the burn of the tequila Talia had pressed into my hand. It was intoxicating, a temporary escape from the weight that had settled on my shoulders.

But even here, in this neon-soaked paradise, I couldn't entirely escape. Damon's face flashed behind my eyelids, his phantom touch ghosting over my skin. The memory of his smile, his laugh, the way he'd looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Fuck," I muttered, the curse lost in the pounding music. I needed air, needed space to breathe without the press of the crowd threatening to suffocate me .

I pushed my way through the throng, ignoring Talia's concerned calls as I stumbled out onto the beach. The sand was cool beneath my feet, the breeze off the ocean a balm against my flushed skin.

I walked until the music faded to a distant pulse, until the only sound was the crash of the waves and the ragged pull of my own breath. The moon hung heavy and full above me, casting a silvery glow over the water.

"Why can't I let you go?" I whispered, the words swallowed by the sea. "Why can't I fucking forget?"

But I knew the answer, even as the question left my lips. Damon was etched into my soul, a tattoo of love and loss and everything in between. He'd seen me, truly seen me, in a way no one else ever had. And now that he was gone, it was like a piece of me was missing, a jagged hole that no amount of alcohol or dancing could fill.

A flicker of light caught my eye, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. Down the beach, a figure stood at the edge of the water, a small flame cupped in their hands.

Curious, I moved closer, my feet sinking into the soft sand. As I approached, I realized the figure was a woman, her long dark hair whipping around her face in the breeze. And the flame in her hands... it was a sky lantern, the kind they released at festivals and memorials.

"Letting go of something?" I asked softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turned, her smile sad and knowing. "Aren't we all?" she replied, her voice tinged with a melodic accent I couldn't place. "It's the full moon, a time for release. For setting our burdens free."

She held out the lantern, the paper skin of it glowing softly in the moonlight. "Want to try?"

I hesitated, my hand hovering in the space between us. The idea of letting go, of releasing even a small piece of the weight I'd been carrying... it was terrifying. Liberating. A choice I wasn't sure I was ready to make.

But something in this stranger's eyes, in the gentle understanding of her smile, made me want to try. Made me want to believe, even for a moment, that I could be free.

I took the lantern, my fingers brushing against hers. She nodded encouragingly, guiding my hands as I lifted the delicate structure into the air.

"Deep breath," she murmured, her voice almost lost beneath the whisper of the waves. "And release."

I inhaled, the salt-tinged air filling my lungs. And as I exhaled, I let the lantern go, watching as it drifted upward on the breeze. It caught an updraft, soaring higher and higher until it was nothing more than a distant pinprick of light against the star-strewn sky.

"How do you feel?" the woman asked, her gaze still fixed on the lantern's path.

I considered the question, surprised to find that the tightness in my chest had eased, just a fraction. The weight on my shoulders seemed a little less crushing, a little more manageable.

"Better," I admitted, my voice rough with unshed tears. "Lighter, somehow."

The woman nodded, her smile widening. "It's a start," she said softly. "The first step in a long journey. But you'll get there, Phoenix. Just keep moving forward, one day at a time."

She turned to go, and it wasn't until she'd taken a step that her words fully registered.

"Wait!" I called out, my heart suddenly pounding. "How do you know my name?"

But she was already gone, her figure nothing more than a shadow in the moonlight. I stood there for a long moment, the breeze whipping my hair around my face as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Had I imagined it? Had the stress and the alcohol finally driven me over the edge into full-blown hallucination?

But the lightness in my chest, the sense of peace that had settled over me like a warm blanket... that was real. Tangible. A small miracle in the midst of my chaotic life.

I looked back out over the water, the moon's reflection shimmering on the surface like a promise. And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt a flicker of hope. A tiny, fragile thing, but there nonetheless.

I didn't know what the future held. Didn't know if I'd ever find the answers I sought, or if the wounds of my past would ever truly heal. But in that moment, under the endless expanse of the star-filled sky, I made a silent vow.

I would keep moving forward. I would keep fighting, keep searching, keep reaching for the light even when the darkness threatened to swallow me whole. And someday, somehow, I would find my way back to myself. Back to the girl I'd been before the world had shattered me into a million jagged pieces.

Phoenix rising from the ashes, reborn and unafraid.

With a final deep breath of ocean air, I turned back toward the bar, toward the pulsing music and the neon lights. Toward Talia, who was no doubt wondering where I'd disappeared to.

But as I walked, I held my head a little higher. Squared my shoulders a little straighter. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself smile. A real smile, unburdened by the ghosts of my past.

It was a start. A new beginning, a chance to rewrite my story on my own terms. And I was ready. Ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, to weather any storm .

Because I was Phoenix Rowe. Daughter of rock and roll royalty, survivor of the unfathomable. And if there was one thing I'd learned from my father, it was this:

Never let them see you break. Never let them steal your fire.

So I would keep burning, keep rising, keep reaching for the stars. And someday, I would fly.