Chapter 4: Three Days Left

Half an hour later, Eleanor Vance stormed into the precinct, flanked by three senior partners from Vance Capital's legal department.

It was a bloodbath of intimidation and NDAs. I don't know exactly how many millions of dollars those lawyers threw af the thugs, but within twenty minutes.

All three men had suddenly discovered an extraordinary reluctance to press charges.

One moment, they had been shouting about attempted murder and promising to bury Sterling beneath criminal lawsuits. The next, they were sitting silently beside their attorneys, signing thick stacks of documents while representatives from Vance Capital stood over them like undertakers waiting beside freshly dug graves.

Money could not erase what Sterling had done, but apparently enough of it could convince everyone involved to forget.

Eleanor crossed the precinct toward her son. Her perfectly styled silver-blonde hair had survived the four-in-the-morning emergency better than most people survived a normal workday. She wore a camel coat over what looked suspiciously like silk pajamas, and fury sharpened every elegant line of her face.

"Sterling Vance."

Sterling barely looked at her.

Eleanor stopped directly in front of him. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"No."

"You broke a man's arm."

"He touched Liana."

The answer came instantly.

No hesitation.

No detached analysis.

No lecture about biological inevitability or rational decision-making.

Just four words.

He touched Liana.

I stared at Sterling from across the room.

When a stranger chased me through three dark city blocks, Sterling had told me to calculate my nearest exit.

When my father lay dying, Sterling had explained death to me as if he were discussing the depreciation schedule of an office building.

But someone touched Liana, and Sterling had apparently forgotten that laws, consequences, and rationality existed.

Eleanor's expression tightened. "And therefore you decided to kill him?"

"I didn't kill him."

"Because the police arrived!"

Sterling finally lifted his gaze. "Then the police were useful."

Declan made a strangled sound beside me.

Even Eleanor seemed momentarily speechless.

Then Liana hurried forward.

"Aunt Eleanor, please don't blame Sterling." Her voice broke delicately. "It really was my fault. I shouldn't have gone to the bathroom alone. I should have waited for security. Sterling was only trying to protect me."

Eleanor's entire expression softened.

"Oh, sweetheart."

She immediately abandoned her anger toward Sterling and pulled Liana into her arms.

I watched the scene without feeling anything.

That surprised me.

A week ago, watching Eleanor comfort Liana like a beloved daughter while Sterling hovered protectively nearby would have twisted jealousy through my stomach. I would have wondered whether I was being petty. I would have reminded myself that Liana was practically family to them.

Tonight, I simply watched.

Maybe there was a point beyond heartbreak where the nerves finally died.

Sterling's gaze suddenly moved toward me.

"Maeve."

I looked at him.

"Come here."

For six years, those two words would have made me move automatically.

I didn't.

Something flickered across his face.

"Maeve." His voice hardened. "I said come here."

"I heard you."

The precinct seemed strangely quiet.

Declan looked between us.

Sterling's eyebrows drew together. Perhaps he was trying to identify why the familiar command had stopped working.

Eventually, he stood and walked toward me instead.

His injured arm was clearly getting worse. The shoulder sat too low, and blood had dried along his knuckles. A purple bruise was spreading beneath his left eye.

I automatically thought about asking whether he needed a hospital.

Then I stopped myself.

Old habits were embarrassing things.

Sterling stopped less than a foot away.

"We're leaving."

"You should go to the hospital first."

"Unnecessary."

"Your shoulder might be dislocated."

"It is."

I stared at him. "Then it's necessary."

He glanced toward Liana.

"Liana needs to be examined first."

Of course.

I almost smiled.

Sterling noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"With your face."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

Sterling's eyes narrowed.

"What's funny?"

"You."

"Explain."

"No."

His jaw tightened.

For perhaps the first time in six years, I didn't care whether my behavior confused him.

My phone vibrated inside my coat pocket.

I pulled it out.

Dr. Alden.

[Clearance approved for preliminary extraction. Medical screening tomorrow at 0900. Final departure has been moved forward. Forty-eight hours, Maeve. Once you enter processing, there is no reversing this.]

Forty-eight hours.

My heartbeat stumbled.

I had thought I had three days.

Now I had two.

Sterling's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Who is texting you at five in the morning?"

I locked my screen.

"Work."

"What work?"

"Mine."

His eyes settled on my phone.

"Show me."

I almost couldn't believe him.

"Excuse me?"

"You look strange. Show me the message."

For years, Sterling had treated my work like an inconvenient hobby. He could barely remember the name of my research division. Now, because I had refused one command and smiled at the wrong moment, he suddenly wanted access to my phone.

I slipped it back into my pocket.

"No."

A strange silence stretched between us.

Sterling stared at me.

I stared back.

Then Liana cried out behind him.

"Sterling..."

His head turned immediately.

Liana had lowered herself onto the bench, one hand pressed against her temple.

"I feel dizzy."

Sterling left me before she finished the sentence.

He crossed the room in three long strides and crouched in front of her.

"Look at me."

Liana blinked slowly.

"I'm okay. I'm probably just overwhelmed."

Sterling placed two fingers against her wrist, checking her pulse.

"Declan. Call Lenox Hill. Tell them we're coming."

"Sterling, that's really not necessary," Liana whispered.

"It wasn't a request."

His voice was still cold.

But now I understood the difference.

Coldness wasn't the absence of care.

Sterling's care simply wore armor.

And Liana had always been standing safely inside it.

I had spent six years outside, freezing.

Eleanor approached me while Sterling focused on Liana.

"Maeve, darling, would you ride with Sterling? He's injured, and you know how impossible he becomes with doctors."

I looked at her.

She smiled tiredly, squeezing my hand.

"He listens to you."

The irony was almost cruel enough to make me laugh again.

"Actually, I need to go home."

Eleanor blinked. "Home?"

"I have work in a few hours."

"Maeve, it's five in the morning."

"Exactly."

Her fingers tightened around mine.

"Is something wrong between you and Sterling?"

For a moment, I considered telling her.

I could have told her about the document.

I could have described the thousands of entries, the apartment, the tuition, the nightly calls, the menstrual-cycle reminders, the thunderstorm protocol.

I could have asked Eleanor whether alexithymia selectively disappeared whenever her son looked at Liana.

But what would it change?

Perhaps she would slap him again.

Perhaps my mother would call me and tell me relationships required patience.

Perhaps Sterling would recite another apology.

And then we would return to the same frozen penthouse, pretending the corpse of our relationship was merely sleeping.

"Nothing is wrong," I said.

It wasn't even a lie anymore.

Nothing could be wrong with something that was already over.

Sterling returned to us with Liana tucked carefully against his uninjured side.

"We're going."

Eleanor nodded. "Maeve will ride with you."

"No, I won't."

Sterling stopped.

Liana's eyes flickered toward me.

I pulled my coat tighter.

"I'm taking an Uber home."

"It's still dark."

The words came from Sterling.

I stared at him.

For one ridiculous second, the memory of that alley slammed into me.

My shaking hands.

My knees pressed against filthy pavement.

My terrified whisper into the phone.

Sterling, please come get me.

And his answer.

Calculate your nearest exit.

I tilted my head.

"I'm an adult with a doctorate, remember?"

Something changed in his expression.

Barely.

A microscopic fracture in the marble.

I continued, "I'm sure I can calculate my nearest exit."

Declan suddenly became fascinated by the floor.

Eleanor looked confused.

Sterling stared at me for several seconds.

"That incident was four years ago."

"I know."

"You're still angry about it?"

"No."

That seemed to disturb him more than if I had screamed yes.

"Then why mention it?"

"Because you taught me something useful."

"What?"

I looked directly into his eyes.

"That when I'm afraid, I shouldn't expect you to come."

Liana shifted uncomfortably against him.

"Maeve..." she began.

"Don't."

It was the first word I had spoken directly to her all night.

She immediately went silent.

Sterling's expression hardened.

"Don't speak to her like that."

There it was.

Instant defense.

Automatic priority.

The protocol wasn't just a document.

It was Sterling himself.

I smiled faintly.

"Goodnight, Sterling."

I turned away.

"Maeve."

I kept walking.

"Maeve."

For six years, I had always turned around when he called my name.

This time, I pushed through the precinct doors.

Cold rain struck my face.

I welcomed it.

My phone vibrated again as I stood beneath the awning.

Dr. Alden had sent another message.

[One more requirement. Before extraction, terminate all financial, residential, academic, and personal ties that could compromise your classified status. Your emergency contact must also be removed. No loose ends.]

I read the words twice.

No loose ends.

A black SUV pulled up behind me. Through the precinct windows, I could see Sterling helping Liana toward it, one hand protectively hovering at the small of her back despite his own dislocated shoulder.

I opened my banking app.

Sterling and I shared three accounts.

I removed my automatic deposits from the first.

Then the second.

Then the third.

I opened our penthouse management portal and removed my name from the resident authorization list effective forty-eight hours from now.

Next came the private medical network Sterling paid for.

Cancel.

The Vance family phone plan.

Transfer number.

The supplementary black card he had given me.

Deactivate.

Six years of my life disappeared one administrative confirmation at a time.

Strangely, I felt lighter after every click.

A car door slammed behind me.

"Maeve."

I didn't need to turn around.

Sterling.

He had apparently left Liana in the SUV long enough to follow me outside.

"What are you doing?"

I locked my phone.

"Calling a ride."

"Declan will take you."

"No."

"Stop saying no simply to provoke me."

I looked over my shoulder.

"Do you genuinely think everything I do revolves around getting a reaction from you?"

Sterling went still.

Rain blew beneath the awning, scattering cold droplets across his bloodstained face.

For the first time that night, he looked less angry than confused.

Maybe because the woman he knew would have been crying by now.

She would have demanded explanations.

She would have asked why he could become a monster for Liana but couldn't spare tenderness for her.

She would have begged him to choose her once.

That woman was gone.

My Uber turned onto the street.

I stepped toward the curb.

Sterling caught my wrist.

His grip wasn't painful, but it was firm.

"Come to the hospital."

"Why?"

"Because I need my shoulder reset."

"Then let the doctor reset it."

His fingers tightened.

"Maeve."

I looked down at his hand.

"Let go."

He didn't.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then Liana's frightened voice floated from the SUV.

"Sterling?"

His grip loosened instinctively.

I pulled my wrist free.

There was almost something poetic about it.

Even when he tried to hold on to me, all Liana had to do was call his name.

The Uber stopped.

I opened the rear door.

Sterling stood in the rain watching me.

"When will you be home?" he asked.

Home.

I looked at the man I had loved for six years.

Forty-eight hours.

That was all that remained.

"Soon," I said.

Then I got into the car and closed the door.

As we pulled away, I didn't look back.

I opened Dr. Alden's message one final time and typed my answer.

[Understood. I'll eliminate every loose end before extraction.]

My finger hovered over the screen for half a second.

Then I pressed send.

Forty-eight hours until Maeve Hart disappeared.

And Sterling Vance still had absolutely no idea that the woman he believed would always be waiting for him had already begun erasing herself from his life.