Chapter 5: Erasing Maeve Hart

By the time I reached the penthouse, dawn had turned Manhattan into a city of gray glass and wet concrete.

I stood inside the private elevator with my leather tote pressed against my side and watched the numbers climb. Twenty-eight. Thirty-six. Forty-four. Fifty-one.

For six years, this elevator had carried me home.

Today, it felt like it was delivering me to a museum dedicated to a woman who no longer existed.

The doors opened directly into Sterling's penthouse.

Everything looked exactly the same.

The enormous windows overlooked Central Park. The Italian marble floors reflected the pale morning light. Sterling's ridiculous abstract sculpture still occupied the center of the foyer, and the air smelled faintly of cedarwood because the automated climate system released his preferred fragrance every morning at six.

There was almost nothing here that belonged to me.

That realization stopped me.

Six years.

I had spent six years with Sterling Vance, and somehow I had left almost no evidence of myself inside his home.

I walked slowly through the living room.

The furniture had been selected by Sterling's interior designer. The paintings had been purchased by Sterling's art consultant. The wine collection belonged to Sterling. Even the flowers on the dining table were replaced every Monday according to Sterling's standing instructions.

Once, during our second year together, I had brought home a ridiculous yellow ceramic vase from a street market in Brooklyn.

It was crooked and ugly, but I loved it.

Sterling had stared at it for approximately five seconds before saying, "It disrupts the visual consistency of the room."

The next morning, it disappeared.

I found it three weeks later inside a storage box.

I had laughed then.

I told myself that was simply Sterling.

God, I had spent years turning cruelty into personality quirks.

I entered our bedroom.

His side of the bed was perfectly made.

Mine still carried the impression of where I had slept before Declan's call.

I placed my tote on the mattress and opened the closet.

Half of it contained Sterling's suits.

The other half contained clothing he had purchased for me.

Not clothing I had chosen.

Clothing his assistants ordered because I was expected to appear beside him at galas, fundraisers, shareholder dinners, charity auctions, and private events.

For years, people had called me lucky.

Maeve Hart, the brilliant marine systems researcher who somehow captured Sterling Vance.

They never understood that being chosen by Sterling and being loved by Sterling were entirely different things.

I pulled a small black suitcase from the upper shelf.

Dr. Alden's instructions had been explicit.

One suitcase.

Research materials permitted only after security review.

No personal electronics.

No identifying photographs.

No unnecessary possessions.

I almost laughed.

Leaving Sterling required less luggage than spending a weekend with him in the Hamptons.

I packed practical clothes first.

Two pairs of jeans.

Three sweaters.

Underwear.

A pair of boots.

My father's old fountain pen.

Then I opened the bedside drawer.

Inside was a velvet jewelry box.

Sterling had given me diamonds on birthdays he forgot.

Emeralds after arguments he refused to discuss.

A Cartier bracelet after missing my doctoral award ceremony because one of his acquisitions required his attention.

Every apology had arrived in velvet.

Not one had contained the words I needed.

I closed the drawer.

The jewelry could stay.

My phone rang.

Mom.

I stared at her name for several seconds before answering.

"Hi, Mom."

"Maeve? Honey, why are you awake this early?"

"Work."

"You're always working." She laughed softly. "Your father says the same thing about Sterling. That's probably why you two fit together so well."

My throat tightened.

"How's Dad?"

"Complaining about his breakfast, which means he's perfectly fine."

I smiled despite myself.

"Good."

There was a pause.

"Maeve, are you okay?"

Mothers had terrifying instincts.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm fine."

"You sound strange."

"I'm tired."

"Did something happen with Sterling?"

I looked toward the open closet.

Forty-seven hours.

Soon I wouldn't be allowed to call her.

Five years.

The thought hit harder than anything Sterling had done.

Five birthdays.

Five Christmases.

Five years without hearing my father's terrible jokes or my mother's voice.

For a moment, I nearly broke.

Then I remembered why I had accepted Elysium in the first place.

It wasn't only an escape.

The project was the opportunity of a lifetime.

A classified deep-sea habitat program combining autonomous robotics, pressure-resistant infrastructure, marine biology, and human survival research at depths no permanent research team had ever occupied.

Dr. Alden had spent two years trying to recruit me.

I had refused twice because Sterling didn't want me disappearing for extended research deployments.

The irony made my stomach turn.

I had sacrificed the greatest opportunity of my career for a man who had built an entire devotion protocol around another woman.

"Mom," I whispered.

"Yes?"

"If I ever made a decision you didn't understand, would you trust me?"

Silence.

"What kind of decision?"

"Just answer."

Her voice softened. "You're my daughter. I might worry. I might disagree. But yes, Maeve. I trust you."

Tears finally burned behind my eyes.

"Thank you."

"Maeve, you're scaring me."

"Don't be scared."

I swallowed.

"And tell Dad I love him."

"You can tell him yourself. He's right here."

I heard movement.

Then my father's sleepy voice came through the phone.

"Kiddo?"

That nearly destroyed me.

"Hey, Dad."

"Your mother says you're being mysterious before breakfast. That's illegal in Ohio."

I laughed, and a tear slipped down my cheek.

"I love you."

"Love you too. Everything okay?"

"Everything's going to be okay."

I hoped that was true.

After ending the call, I sat motionless for several minutes.

Then the private elevator chimed.

I wiped my face immediately.

Voices entered the penthouse.

Declan first.

"Easy. The doctor specifically said you shouldn't move that arm."

Then Sterling.

"I'm aware of what the doctor said."

And finally Liana.

"Sterling, please stop pretending you're invincible. You scared me enough tonight."

I looked at my half-packed suitcase.

Of course he had brought her here.

I closed it and slid it beneath the bed.

A few seconds later, Sterling appeared in the bedroom doorway.

His left arm was secured in a medical sling. The blood had been cleaned from his face, leaving the bruising more visible.

His gaze moved immediately toward me.

"You came home."

The statement was strange enough that I frowned.

"I said I would."

"You said soon."

"And here I am."

His eyes moved around the bedroom.

For one horrifying second, I wondered whether he had noticed something.

Then Liana appeared behind him.

She had changed into a hospital sweatshirt several sizes too large, probably Sterling's. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and there was a small bandage near her temple.

"Maeve."

I looked at her.

She clasped her hands together.

"I really want to apologize about tonight."

"For what?"

She blinked.

"For causing trouble."

"You didn't cause trouble."

Sterling's gaze sharpened, perhaps surprised by my answer.

I continued, "Those men attacked you. That's their responsibility."

Liana visibly relaxed.

"Thank you. I was worried you'd misunderstand."

"Misunderstand what?"

Her eyes flickered toward Sterling.

It lasted less than a second.

But I saw it.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

Sterling stepped into the room.

"Liana is staying here for a while."

There it was.

No discussion.

No question.

Just another decision.

"Okay."

Sterling frowned.

Apparently, my agreement bothered him more than resistance would have.

"That's all you have to say?"

"What would you like me to say?"

"Normally you object when someone stays here."

"Normally?"

"You complained when Declan stayed for three nights after his apartment flooded."

"Because Declan drank my twenty-year-old Scotch and left wet towels on the bathroom floor."

From the hallway, Declan shouted, "In my defense, that was an extremely stressful flood."

I almost smiled.

Sterling didn't.

"Liana will use the east guest suite," he said.

"Fine."

"She may be here several weeks."

"Fine."

His jaw tightened.

"Stop saying fine."

I stared at him.

"Would you prefer an argument?"

"I'd prefer a normal response."

"This is my normal response."

"No, it isn't."

Something cold crawled through my chest.

For a man who claimed he couldn't understand emotions, Sterling had become remarkably observant now that mine were disappearing.

Liana touched his good arm.

"Sterling, don't fight with Maeve because of me."

He immediately looked at her.

"We're not fighting."

"You sound angry."

His voice softened by a fraction.

"I'm not angry with you."

With you.

I turned toward the bathroom.

"I need a shower."

"Maeve."

I stopped.

Sterling was watching me again.

"What?"

"We're having dinner tonight."

"We are?"

"Mother arranged it. Seven-thirty."

"I can't."

His expression changed.

"Cancel whatever you're doing."

"No."

"Maeve."

"I have a medical screening at nine, then I need to finish paperwork at the university."

His eyes narrowed.

"Medical screening for what?"

My heartbeat skipped.

I had been careless.

"Research."

"What research requires a medical screening?"

"Field research."

"Where?"

"It hasn't been finalized."

He stared at me long enough to make the room feel smaller.

"Which project?"

Before I could answer, Liana suddenly gasped.

"Oh my God."

Sterling turned instantly.

She was staring at her phone.

"What's wrong?"

"The Stanford alumni foundation dinner. It's tonight."

Her face fell.

"I completely forgot. I promised Professor Klein I'd attend, but after everything that happened..."

Sterling didn't hesitate.

"I'll take you."

Silence.

I looked at him.

He had just told me his mother had arranged dinner for us.

He had just ordered me to cancel my plans.

And yet the moment Liana needed him, our dinner ceased to exist.

Liana looked distressed.

"No, Sterling. You have dinner with Maeve."

"It can be rescheduled."

I almost admired the efficiency.

Liana bit her lip.

"But Aunt Eleanor will be upset."

"I'll handle Mother."

Then Sterling looked back at me.

"We'll have dinner tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

My final night.

I nodded.

"Sure."

Again, that faint confusion appeared in his eyes.

Perhaps he had expected anger.

Perhaps he remembered all the previous occasions when I had fought for scraps of his time.

But why would I fight now?

Liana had won.

She just didn't realize the competition had ended.

Sterling's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and walked into the hallway to answer it.

Liana remained behind.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she looked toward the doorway to make sure Sterling was gone.

Something subtle changed in her expression.

The trembling innocence disappeared.

"You're different," she said.

Her voice was quieter now.

I met her eyes.

"Am I?"

"You used to hate when Sterling chose me."

There was no apology in her tone anymore.

I leaned against the dresser.

"Did I?"

"You tried to hide it."

A tiny smile touched her lips.

"But I could always tell."

There she was.

Not the frightened orphan.

Not the delicate little sister.

The woman beneath the performance.

"Congratulations," I said.

Her smile vanished.

"For what?"

"Getting what you wanted."

Liana stared at me.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't."

I walked past her.

She caught my sleeve.

"Maeve."

I looked down at her hand.

She released me.

"Sterling and I have a bond you probably can't understand."

I almost laughed.

"I understand it perfectly now."

That unsettled her.

"He's protected me since I was sixteen."

"I know."

"He feels responsible for me."

"I know."

"I'm family."

"I know, Liana."

My calmness seemed to irritate her.

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you don't care."

I looked at her for a long moment.

Then I smiled.

"Maybe I finally don't."

Her face went still.

I walked into the bathroom and locked the door.

At eight forty-five that morning, I entered a restricted medical facility beneath an unmarked federal building in Lower Manhattan.

Dr. Alden was waiting for me.

He was sixty-two, permanently exhausted, and one of the finest oceanographic engineers alive.

He studied my face.

"You look terrible."

"Good morning to you too."

He handed me a security badge without a name.

"Last chance, Maeve."

"I know."

"Once you sign the final clearance documents tomorrow, your public employment record will show an indefinite overseas research sabbatical. Your communications will be routed into a dead archive. Anyone searching for you will find nothing useful."

"Good."

Dr. Alden's expression softened.

"You're not doing this only because of him, are you?"

I looked through the glass wall at the medical team preparing my tests.

"Two years ago, you offered me Elysium, and I said no because Sterling didn't want me gone for six months."

"I remember."

"Last year, you offered again."

"You said your relationship couldn't survive the distance."

I smiled bitterly.

"Apparently, it couldn't survive the same apartment either."

Dr. Alden sighed.

"Maeve."

"I'm going because I want the work."

I looked at him.

"And I'm leaving because I finally understand there's nothing here worth sacrificing it for."

He nodded once.

"Then let's begin."

The medical screening lasted six hours.

Blood tests.

Cardiovascular stress testing.

Pressure-response evaluation.

Neurological assessment.

Psychological clearance.

By three in the afternoon, I was exhausted.

A security officer handed me a thick folder.

"Final extraction schedule."

I opened it.

My eyes stopped on one line.

TRANSFER WINDOW: 0600 HOURS, THURSDAY.

Tomorrow morning.

Not forty-eight hours.

Not tomorrow night.

Tomorrow morning.

Less than fifteen hours.

I looked at Dr. Alden.

"You said forty-eight hours."

"The deployment vessel moved ahead because of weather conditions in the North Atlantic. We just received confirmation."

My pulse accelerated.

"Can I have until tomorrow evening?"

"No."

He studied me carefully.

"Is there someone you need to say goodbye to?"

My mind flashed through my parents.

Then Sterling.

Liana touching his arm.

Sterling abandoning our dinner without hesitation.

No matter the circumstance, Liana must always come first.

I closed the folder.

"No."

Dr. Alden nodded.

"Then be at Pier 17 at five-thirty tomorrow morning."

When I stepped outside, Manhattan was glowing beneath the late-afternoon sun.

Fourteen hours.

My phone contained eleven missed calls.

Eight were from Sterling.

Two from Declan.

One from Eleanor.

I stared at Sterling's name.

In six years, he had never called me eight times in one afternoon.

Before I could decide whether to return the call, another one came through.

Sterling.

I answered.

"Hello?"

His voice was colder than I had ever heard it.

"Where the hell are you?"

"At work."

"I called your university."

My blood went cold.

"Why?"

"They said you haven't been there all day."

I tightened my grip on the classified folder.

"I told you I had a medical screening."

"At what facility?"

"That's private."

Silence.

Then, very quietly, Sterling said, "Maeve, come home. Now."

I looked at the black government vehicle waiting across the street to take me back to the penthouse.

Tomorrow morning, Maeve Hart would effectively cease to exist.

Sterling Vance had less than fourteen hours left with me.

And for the first time in six years, he had finally started asking where I was.