Chapter 10: Too Late to Learn Her

By midnight, Sterling Vance had constructed a file about me.

He sat alone in his study with three monitors glowing against the darkness, surrounded by information he should never have needed a computer to remember.

MAEVE HART.

Birthday: October 23.

Coffee: oat-milk flat white, one extra shot, no sugar.

Allergy: almonds. Severe. Risk of anaphylaxis.

Favorite flowers: peonies.

Favorite color: dark green.

Undergraduate degree: Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

Doctorate: marine systems engineering.

Father: Daniel Hart.

Mother: Caroline Hart.

Fear response: severe anxiety in dark, isolated environments following subway stalking incident.

Preferred music while working: classical piano.

Favorite dessert: tiramisu.

Sterling stared at the list.

It looked grotesquely familiar.

A protocol.

Just like Liana's.

Except this one had been assembled after I disappeared.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The room was silent except for the soft hum of the computers.

For the first time in years, Sterling wasn't working.

Vance Capital's Tokyo division had called four times.

He ignored them.

His chief financial officer had sent an urgent message regarding a merger worth $2.8 billion.

He hadn't opened it.

His assistant had reminded him about a board meeting scheduled for eight the following morning.

He had responded with one word.

Cancel.

Declan stood near the bookshelves with his arms crossed.

"You've been sitting there for nine hours."

Sterling didn't look away from the screen.

"October twenty-third."

Declan frowned.

"What?"

"Her birthday."

"Yes."

"What did I do last October twenty-third?"

Declan hesitated.

"You were in Zurich."

"Why?"

"Helix acquisition."

Sterling searched his calendar.

October 23.

Zurich.

Acquisition dinner.

Investor meeting.

Private flight to London.

Nothing about me.

"Did I call her?"

Declan said nothing.

Sterling looked up.

"Did I call Maeve?"

"I don't know."

"Find out."

"Sterling—"

"Find out."

Declan pulled out his phone.

Several minutes later, he looked uncomfortable.

"There was no outgoing call to Maeve that day."

Sterling's expression didn't change.

"Messages?"

"One."

"Read it."

Declan hesitated.

"At 11:48 PM you sent: 'Landing tomorrow. Have my gray suit sent for pressing.'"

Silence.

Sterling stared at the date.

"That was it?"

"That was it."

His eyes moved to another monitor.

Liana - Devotion Protocol.

He searched October 23.

Three entries appeared.

10/23 — Confirm Liana's dermatology appointment.

10/23 — Order replacement charger for Liana's laptop.

10/23 — Remind chef Liana dislikes cilantro in the Thai curry.

Sterling went completely still.

On my birthday, he had remembered Liana's laptop charger.

But not me.

Declan walked closer.

"You need to sleep."

"No."

"You can't fix six years tonight."

Sterling's gaze remained on the screen.

"I'm not trying to fix anything."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Understanding."

Declan gave a humorless laugh.

"That's new."

Sterling looked at him.

Declan didn't apologize.

"You want me to lie to you? Fine. Maeve was unreasonable. She overreacted. She ran away because you forgot a few birthdays. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No."

"Good. Because that's not why she left."

Sterling's face tightened.

"Then why?"

"Because forgetting her birthday wasn't an accident anymore. It was a pattern."

Declan pointed toward the Liana document.

"You proved you were capable of remembering everything. Just not when it came to Maeve."

Sterling looked back at the red directive.

No matter the circumstance, Liana must always come first.

"It wasn't romantic," he said.

"What wasn't?"

"Liana."

"I didn't say it was."

"Maeve thought it was."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Declan pulled out the chair opposite him.

"But honestly? Does it matter?"

Sterling's eyes sharpened.

"Of course it matters."

"Why? If you neglected Maeve because you were secretly in love with Liana, that's terrible. If you neglected Maeve because you simply decided Liana deserved more care, attention, protection, memory, patience, and consideration than your girlfriend did, is that really much better?"

Sterling said nothing.

Declan continued.

"You keep treating this like Maeve misunderstood your intentions. I don't think she cares about your intentions anymore."

A soft knock sounded at the study door.

Liana stood outside.

"Can I come in?"

Sterling looked at her.

For most of her life, Liana had never needed permission.

She simply entered.

Tonight, she waited.

"What do you need?" Sterling asked.

Her expression flickered.

"I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine."

"You haven't eaten."

"I'm not hungry."

"You always tell me skipping meals is unhealthy."

"Then eat."

Liana fell silent.

Declan looked between them.

"I'll give you two a minute."

He left.

Liana entered slowly.

Her gaze landed on the monitors.

She saw my name.

Then the growing list beneath it.

"You're making a file about Maeve?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Sterling didn't answer.

Liana moved closer.

"Sterling, she's going to come back."

His fingers stopped above the keyboard.

"You don't know that."

"She's angry."

"Declan said the same thing."

"Because it's obvious."

"No."

Sterling looked at her.

"Anger would have been easier."

Liana frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Maeve wasn't angry when she left."

He remembered my face inside the elevator.

Calm.

Exhausted.

Finished.

"She didn't ask me to change."

Liana said nothing.

"She didn't ask me to choose her."

Sterling's voice became quieter.

"She didn't ask me for anything."

For some reason, that frightened him more than every argument we had ever had.

Liana stepped toward him.

"Then maybe when she comes back, you can talk."

"If she comes back."

"She will."

Sterling's eyes moved toward her.

"Why are you so certain?"

Liana hesitated.

"Because she loves you."

Something painful tightened beneath Sterling's ribs.

"Did."

"What?"

"She loved me."

The past tense came naturally.

He hated it immediately.

Liana reached for his hand.

"Sterling—"

He moved his hand away to reach for the keyboard.

Her fingers closed around empty air.

She stared at them.

Sterling didn't notice.

"Did Maeve ever speak to you about Elysium?"

Liana's head lifted.

"Elysium?"

"A research project."

"No."

"Dr. Alden?"

"I've heard the name, I think."

"From Maeve?"

"Maybe."

Sterling opened another database.

Liana watched him.

"Are you still searching for her?"

"Yes."

"Even after the investigators said her records were classified?"

"Yes."

"Sterling, they warned you that digging into federal systems could cause serious problems."

"I heard them."

"Then stop."

He looked at her.

"No."

Liana's lips parted.

The word seemed to shock her.

Perhaps because Sterling almost never denied her anything.

"I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"You haven't slept. You haven't eaten. Your shoulder is injured, and you're ignoring your medication."

"I'm aware."

"Then let this go for one night."

"No."

Again.

A second refusal.

Something uncertain entered Liana's eyes.

"She's the one who chose to leave."

Sterling's expression changed.

"What?"

"Maeve chose this."

Liana spoke carefully.

"You didn't throw her out. You didn't cheat on her. You gave her everything. This penthouse, access to your accounts, jewelry, security, anything she wanted. If she still decided to disappear without explaining herself, that's her choice."

Sterling stared at her.

Once, he might have agreed.

The logic was clean.

Transactional.

Comfortingly measurable.

Money provided.

Housing provided.

Security provided.

Therefore relationship obligation fulfilled.

But then another memory surfaced.

My father lying in a hospital.

Me on my knees.

Sterling, please. I'm begging you.

His own voice.

Every human being has a biological expiration date.

Then another.

Me hiding behind a dumpster.

Sterling, please come get me.

Calculate your nearest exit.

Then another.

Blood pouring from my hand.

The conference call he returned to.

He looked at Liana.

"Do you remember the storm at Stanford three years ago?"

She blinked.

"What?"

"There was a thunderstorm."

"I've had lots of thunderstorms at Stanford."

"September seventeenth. Three years ago."

Her expression softened.

"You stayed on FaceTime with me all night."

"Seven hours and twelve minutes."

Liana smiled faintly.

"You remember."

Sterling didn't smile.

"Maeve was at the hospital that night."

Her smile disappeared.

"I didn't know."

"Neither did I."

He looked toward the monitor.

"Her mother had surgery."

"Sterling—"

"Maeve sent me three messages."

He had found them earlier.

[Mom's surgery has complications. I'm scared.]

[Can you call when you're free?]

[Never mind. Everything's stable. Goodnight.]

He had never responded.

Because he had been on FaceTime with Liana.

Priority Directive.

No matter the circumstance, Liana must always come first.

Sterling looked at her.

"I had seven hours to speak to you."

"I was having a panic attack."

"I know."

"You helped me."

"I know."

"Then why are you making it sound like I did something wrong?"

"I'm not."

"It feels like you are."

Sterling's voice remained flat.

"I'm saying I could have called Maeve too."

Liana looked away.

"You can't change the past."

"No."

Sterling looked back at my file.

"But I can stop pretending I don't remember it."

Liana stood there for several seconds.

"I'm going to bed."

"Okay."

She waited.

Perhaps for him to tell her goodnight.

Perhaps for him to ask whether she needed anything.

Sterling's attention had already returned to the screen.

Eventually, she left.

At 2:14 AM, Sterling discovered Elysium.

Not the classified project itself.

Only a fragment.

A cached academic conference page from two years earlier contained a panel discussion titled: Elysium: Permanent Human Research Infrastructure in Extreme Marine Environments.

One speaker was Dr. Nathaniel Alden.

Sterling opened everything he could find.

Most references were theoretical.

Deep-ocean habitation.

Autonomous subsea systems.

Long-duration isolation.

Extreme-pressure engineering.

Government partnerships.

Then he found a deleted university newsletter preserved in an academic archive.

Dr. Alden's team had received preliminary federal approval for an unnamed multiyear research deployment.

Multiyear.

Sterling stopped.

He searched again.

Nothing.

Another search.

Nothing.

He called Declan.

Declan answered after six rings.

"If someone isn't actively dying, I'm going to kill you myself."

"Elysium."

"What?"

"Search it."

"It's two in the morning."

"Maeve mentioned Elysium to you?"

Declan became quiet.

"Maybe."

Sterling stood.

"Think."

"Jesus, okay."

A pause.

"There was a dinner last year. You left early for some conference call. Maeve and I were talking afterward."

"About what?"

"Her work."

"What did she say?"

"That her mentor wanted her for some insane deep-sea research program."

Sterling's pulse changed.

"Did she say Elysium?"

"Maybe. Yeah. I think so."

"Why didn't she go?"

Declan went silent.

"Declan."

"Because of you."

Sterling stopped breathing.

"Explain."

"She said the deployment was long-term and she didn't think you'd tolerate the distance."

"How long?"

"I don't remember."

"Months?"

"Longer, I think."

"One year?"

"Sterling, I genuinely don't know."

His fingers tightened around the phone.

"Find out."

"How?"

"Alden."

"The guy isn't answering anyone."

"Then find someone who worked with him."

"This is beginning to look classified."

"I don't care."

"You should."

"I don't."

Declan sighed.

"Fine. I'll make calls."

Sterling ended the call.

He looked at the cached article.

Long-duration isolation.

Multiyear deployment.

Government partnership.

My medical screening.

My disappearing records.

The secured vehicle.

The sealed phone.

Everything connected.

His stomach twisted.

For the first time, Sterling understood that I hadn't left impulsively.

I had planned it.

Quietly.

Methodically.

While sleeping beside him.

While eating breakfast across from him.

While he was protecting Liana.

I had been dismantling our life piece by piece.

And he hadn't noticed.

At 3:06 AM, Sterling entered our bedroom.

He hadn't stepped inside since morning.

The room smelled faintly like my shampoo.

He stopped beside the bed.

My side was untouched.

He opened the closet.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars of clothing remained.

He opened the jewelry drawer.

Everything he had ever bought me was there.

Diamonds.

Emeralds.

Bracelets.

Watches.

He picked up a necklace he'd given me after missing my doctoral ceremony.

He remembered the purchase.

He didn't remember the ceremony.

That realization made him sit down.

On the nightstand was a small bottle.

He picked it up.

Epinephrine auto-injector.

For almond exposure.

His hand tightened around it.

He had stocked a home with something that could kill me.

Because Liana liked almonds.

Sterling lowered his head.

Something unfamiliar pressed against his chest.

It wasn't anger.

It wasn't irritation.

It wasn't the adrenaline he had always mistaken for his strongest emotion.

It hurt.

Physically.

A crushing pressure behind his ribs.

His breathing became uneven.

Sterling pressed his palm against his sternum.

For one irrational second, he wondered whether he was having a heart attack.

Then he remembered my father's hospital room.

Biological expiration date.

His own words came back like a blade.

Sterling bent forward.

He finally understood why I had smashed the watch.

The bedroom door opened.

Liana stood there.

"Sterling?"

He didn't answer.

She saw the EpiPen in his hand.

"Are you okay?"

"Leave me alone."

She froze.

"What?"

"Please."

Another word he almost never used.

"I need to be alone."

Liana stared at him.

Then quietly closed the door.

Sterling remained sitting on the edge of the bed until sunrise.

Hundreds of miles away, sunrise did not reach me.

There was no dawn where I was going.

Only darkness.

The deployment vessel had reached the offshore transfer coordinates hours earlier.

I stood inside a cylindrical pressure chamber wearing a fitted thermal research suit while technicians checked the seals around my wrists and neck.

Beyond the reinforced observation window waited the Elysium descent craft.

Compact.

Black.

Built to withstand crushing pressure.

Dr. Alden entered behind me.

"First descent team leaves in twenty minutes."

I nodded.

"Still terrified?"

"More than yesterday."

"Excellent."

I smiled.

He handed me my research tablet.

"You'll be in Habitat Two. Systems engineering division. Your initial rotation is ninety days before reassignment to the lower platform."

"And communications?"

"Internal only."

"No exceptions?"

"No exceptions."

I looked through the window.

The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the vessel.

Somewhere behind that horizon was New York.

Sterling.

My parents.

Everything I knew.

"Maeve."

I turned.

Dr. Alden studied me.

"You can still be sad about what you're leaving and know leaving was correct."

I swallowed.

"I know."

"Five years is a long time."

"Six was longer."

He frowned.

"Six?"

I smiled faintly.

"Nothing."

A technician opened the chamber.

"Dr. Hart, we're ready."

I stepped toward the descent craft.

Then stopped.

For one final moment, I allowed myself to think about Sterling Vance.

Not the billionaire.

Not the cold CEO.

Not Liana's protector.

Just Sterling.

The man I had once believed I would spend my entire life loving.

Maybe someday he would understand.

Maybe he wouldn't.

It no longer belonged to me to teach him.

I entered the craft.

The hatch sealed.

Minutes later, we slipped beneath the Atlantic.

Sunlight followed us for the first hundred meters.

Then blue became gray.

Gray became black.

And eventually the surface disappeared completely.

I watched the depth numbers climb.

Three hundred meters.

Five hundred.

Eight hundred.

For the first time in years, the darkness didn't frighten me.

Maybe because this time I had chosen it.

Back in Manhattan, Sterling stood before the windows of the penthouse as morning spread across the city.

Declan called at 7:12 AM.

"I found someone who worked with Alden."

Sterling gripped the phone.

"And?"

"They wouldn't tell me where Elysium is."

"How long is the deployment?"

Silence.

"Declan."

"Sterling..."

"How long?"

Declan exhaled.

"Five years."

The city seemed to disappear around him.

"What?"

"The person wouldn't confirm Maeve is part of it. But the Elysium deployment itself is scheduled for five years under total communications blackout."

Sterling didn't move.

Five years.

The number didn't make sense.

Five years without seeing me.

Five years without hearing my voice.

Five years without knowing where I was.

"Find out if she's there."

"I'm trying."

"Confirm it."

"Sterling, even if I confirm it, we still won't know the location."

"Then find the location."

"And then what?"

Sterling had no answer.

Declan's voice softened.

"If Maeve chose this, you can't drag her back."

Sterling looked down at the platinum key in his palm.

"I know."

It was the first time he admitted it.

His hand closed around the key.

"But I need to know she's alive."

Far beneath the Atlantic, my descent craft continued sinking toward Elysium.

I had no idea Sterling finally knew how long I would be gone.

I didn't know he had begun reconstructing six years of memories, desperately searching for every moment when I had needed him and he had chosen not to see me.

And Sterling didn't know that disappearing was only the beginning.

Because five years beneath the ocean could change a person.

It could change what she wanted.

It could change whom she loved.

And when Maeve Hart eventually returned to the surface, there was no guarantee the woman Sterling remembered would return with her.