The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 79. A Ghost She Hadn’t Acknowledged.

Everywhere suddenly felt hot.

Everywhere suddenly felt uncomfortable.

Nicolette clenched her fist and bit her lip, trying to stifle the emotions racing through her. It was all getting to her, and she was failing at keeping it at bay.

Trainer getting fired finally hit her like a brick, hurting more than she had expected. He had been there for her just yesterday, protecting her in his own helpless way. And now he was gone.

His absence didn’t just mean he wasn’t competent—it meant Alaric didn’t give a damn. He had shown her just that.

Her thoughts drifted to Alaric: his coldness, his ignorance, the way he wouldn’t even talk to her or let her explain, it hurt more than she was willing to admit.

And the disappointment that followed when she realized Lucian had sent those sunflowers instead? It was beyond explanation.

And now this.

The betrayal from her father. The lies from Rachel.

How dare they steal from her and parade it around like it was theirs?

Anger surged through her as her fist tightened around her phone. She took a deep breath, forcing her nerves to steady.

"Are you... okay, ma’am?" the new bodyguard asked gingerly, watching her through the rearview mirror.

She was far from okay. But to admit to that meant lashing out at him. So she stayed silent instead.

Her phone buzzed, it was Suzie.

She declined the call, not wanting to talk to her just yet.

She then dialed Alaric’s number again. This time, she didn’t want to beg—she wanted to scream at him, to pour her anger out on him.

Luckily, or unluckily for him, the call went through, but he didn’t answer.

"Fuck!" she groaned, slamming her fist against the car seat.

The guard glanced back but said nothing.

Think, Nicolette.

This wasn’t the time to be pissed. This was the time to prepare and attack.

Oh, Ronald and Rachel were going to pay for this. But where does she start from?

Her phone rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was Hillary this time.

Her anger cracked, and she picked it up.

"Hills?"

"Oh thank God, Lettie! I’ve been going crazy. Why didn’t you answer your phone?" Hillary’s voice was laced with concern.

Guilt pooled in Nicolette’s chest, but she swallowed it. "Sorry. I got busy."

"I was calling to let you know that Dad stole your mother’s art and gave it to that two-faced, sly-ass Rachel girl," Hillary said, her detest for Rachel clear.

Nicolette shut her eyes, stifling the anger before it boiled over. "I just saw the news. Dad sent me the article."

Hillary’s voice dropped with concern. "I’m so sorry, Lettie. I really don’t know what came over him. What are you going to do now? You can’t just allow it."

Of course she couldn’t. But what was she supposed to do?

"I don’t know yet, Hills," Nicolette admitted.

But her brain was already working.

She could sue Ronald when she had enough evidence against him.

Getting Alaric to help her plan revenge would’ve been ideal, but he wasn’t even talking to her.

And there was no way she could convince Lucian to stop funding Ronald...

Or was there?

Could she persuade Lucian to cut off his support?

It was such a risky thing to do but could it be worth it? Would Lucian agree? And how would Alaric feel?

"I’ll think of something too," Hillary said. "We can’t let him win."

The determination in Hillary’s voice made Nicolette’s stomach twist. "Hills... I hope you’re not planning anything stupid."

But Hillary didn’t answer.

"Hills!" Nicolette cried. "Don’t do anything rash. Remember you still live with him."

"What if I am?" Hillary snapped. "What if I’m tired of him treating you like shit? It’s affecting me too, Lettie. My business is gone." Her voice trembled with a frustration that sounded like it had been buried for too long.

Nicolette paused, her heart aching at the pain in Hillary’s voice. "I understand, Hills. But we have to be smart about it. You know what he is like. Even if you succeed, what about your mother? You can’t leave her there with him."

Hillary sighed, her voice softening. "True. But still... I have to try."

"I get it," Nicolette said gently, then a thought crossed her mind. "Let’s meet this evening. We’ll figure something out."

"Alright." Hillary replied, her tone lightened. "I really appreciate you, Lettie."

"You’re welcome. Just stay safe."

"I will. Bye," Hillary said, ending the call.

Nicolette sighed and sank into the car seat. Her head spun with everything that had just happened.

As the car passed her mother’s gallery, her heart skipped a beat. The familiar atmosphere loomed like a ghost from her past.

Well, it was a ghost from her past. Just a ghost she hadn’t acknowledged.

Something was pulling her toward it. But then something else held her back. Memories and fear wrestled inside her, each struggling wanting to lead.

Was she really ready to face the ruins? Was she ready to miss the meeting of a new beginning for this?

Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward. "Stop here." The words escaped her lips before she could second-guess them.

The guard raised a brow. "Here?"

"Yes." Her voice was firm, even though everything else inside her was trembling.

Once he pulled over, Nicolette stepped out. Her heart squeezed with each step.

Her vision blurred, her steps became heavier.

She could almost hear the cracklings, as if the air still whispered through the ashes. She could see the fire that had once lit the room—from yellow to orange. It played in her mind like a haunting video, shuffling from beauty to destruction.

She stepped inside.

The gallery had once been colorful, so full of life. Now she could almost smell the smoke. She could almost taste the acrid air.

"Lettie?"

She turned sharply to the voice. "Gordon."

It was the baker from upstairs.

"Oh, Lettie," Gordon’s voice softened as he approached her. He pulled her into a comforting hug. "I’m so sorry about this."

She allowed it for a moment, before pulling back, clearing her throat. "Thank you, Gordon."

He smiled warmly. "We have all been trying to reach you. Let me get the others."

"No—"

But Gordon had already walked away. Nicolette sighed and wandered around the empty space.

Seeing the gallery after such ruin was just too heavy on her heart so she left the room. Out in the pavement, some of her neighbors had gathered.

"Hey, Lettie."

"Sorry, Lettie."

They offered their hugs, their condolences. Their voices were soft voices, their looks were somber. Their presence was comforting, but it only deepened the ache in her chest.

She nodded and smiled through each embrace.

"How is the investigation going?" Maryanne, one of the hairstylists, asked.

"Good. Ongoing," Nicolette said. "The police are still working on it." She kept her tone steady, though her frustration was simmering inside. Then she remembered the man with the full hair. "They found someone walking around at the time of—"

"Was it that girl with the doe eyes?" Sally interrupted.

Everyone turned to her. Nicolette’s eyes widened. "What girl, Sally?"

The urgency in her voice made Sally take a step back, startled.

Sally flushed. "I thought we all saw her. She was in a blue gown, walking around before the fire."

"Did you tell the police?" Gordon asked.

"No..." Sally said sheepishly.

Nicolette’s breath hitched. She yanked out her phone and quickly dialed Detective Hector.

Could this be the lead she had been waiting for? The final piece that made it all make sense?