Chapter 6: The Last Night

I arrived at the penthouse at 5:17 PM with thirteen hours left before extraction.

The classified folder Dr. Alden had given me was no longer in my bag. I had sealed it inside a secure locker at the federal facility before leaving. The only evidence of Elysium remaining on me was a tiny adhesive mark on the inside of my elbow from the blood tests and a countdown ticking relentlessly inside my head.

Thirteen hours.

By six tomorrow morning, Maeve Hart would disappear from civilian life.

The private elevator doors opened.

Sterling was waiting for me.

That alone made me stop.

Sterling Vance did not wait for people.

People waited for Sterling.

CEOs waited outside his office. Senators rearranged meetings around his schedule. Investors flew across continents for fifteen minutes of his attention. Even Eleanor occasionally complained that her son treated family dinners like hostile corporate negotiations.

Yet there he stood in the middle of the foyer, still wearing the sling from the hospital, his dark shirt rolled to his elbows, his expression carved from stone.

"Where were you?"

No hello.

No question about whether my medical screening had gone well.

Just an interrogation.

I stepped out of the elevator.

"I already told you."

"You said work."

"A medical screening related to work."

"Your university doesn't know anything about it."

I placed my tote on the console table.

"Why were you calling my university?"

"Because you weren't answering your phone."

"I was undergoing tests."

"For six hours?"

"Yes."

His gaze moved over my face.

"What kind of tests?"

"The kind that take six hours."

His jaw flexed.

A year ago, that expression would have made me immediately soften my voice.

Tonight, I walked past him.

"Maeve."

"I'm tired, Sterling."

"We're not finished."

I almost smiled.

He still thought he controlled when things between us began and ended.

He had no idea that I had already chosen the ending.

I entered the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water.

Sterling followed.

"Who authorized the screening?"

"My department."

"Which department?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because you're behaving irrationally."

There was that word again.

Irrational.

For six years, Sterling had used it whenever my emotions inconvenienced him.

Crying because my father might die was irrational.

Being terrified after a stranger chased me was irrational.

Wanting him to remember my birthday was irrational.

Wanting affection was irrational.

Wanting to feel loved by the man I had spent six years loving was apparently the most irrational desire of all.

I took a slow sip of water.

"I'm behaving normally."

"No, you're not."

"Maybe you never knew me well enough to know what normal looks like."

His expression went completely still.

For several seconds, the only sound in the kitchen was the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

Then he said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

Before he could respond, footsteps sounded behind us.

Liana entered the kitchen wearing an oversized cream sweater and soft gray leggings.

"Sterling?"

His attention shifted toward her immediately.

She smiled when she saw me.

"Maeve, you're back."

"Apparently."

Liana looked between us.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No," I said.

"Yes," Sterling said simultaneously.

Liana's smile faded.

"Oh."

Sterling looked at her. "What do you need?"

"Nothing important. I was just wondering if the chef could make that mushroom risotto from Florence tonight."

"I'll tell him."

"You remember it?"

"Porcini. No parsley. Extra Parmigiano-Reggiano. White pepper instead of black."

Liana's face brightened.

"You do remember."

Something inside me should have hurt.

It didn't.

Instead, I found myself looking toward the pantry.

A glass jar filled with roasted almonds sat prominently on the shelf.

Deathly allergic.

Six years.

He couldn't remember.

But Liana's risotto?

Porcini. No parsley. Extra Parmigiano-Reggiano. White pepper.

Perfectly memorized.

Sterling noticed where I was looking.

"Maeve?"

I turned back.

"What?"

"You stopped listening."

"Did I?"

Liana stepped closer.

"You should eat with us tonight. Sterling told me you two had plans, and I feel terrible that my alumni dinner interfered."

I glanced at Sterling.

"I thought you were taking her to the dinner."

"We're not going."

That surprised me.

"Why?"

Liana answered before he could.

"Sterling's shoulder is worse than he admits. I told him I wasn't letting him escort me anywhere like this."

Sterling's expression remained unreadable.

"We'll stay here."

I nodded.

"Enjoy dinner."

I started toward the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Sterling asked.

"Bedroom."

"Dinner is at seven-thirty."

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since yesterday."

I stopped.

Slowly, I turned around.

"How do you know that?"

Sterling's brows drew together.

"What?"

"How do you know when I last ate?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Then he said, "You get headaches when you skip meals."

My fingers tightened around the water glass.

For one dangerous second, hope tried to resurrect itself.

Six years of conditioning was difficult to kill.

Maybe he had noticed things.

Maybe somewhere beneath all that ice—

Then Liana touched her stomach.

"Speaking of food, I haven't eaten since the hospital either."

Sterling turned toward her.

"Why not?"

His voice changed.

It wasn't dramatic.

Anyone else might not have noticed.

I did.

Concern.

Immediate and instinctive.

"I wasn't hungry," Liana said.

"That's irrelevant. You need food after the medication they gave you."

He pulled out his phone.

"I'll have the chef start now."

And just like that, I vanished from his attention again.

I placed the unfinished water on the counter and walked away.

This time, Sterling didn't stop me.

Upstairs, I locked the bedroom door.

Twelve hours.

I pulled the suitcase from beneath the bed.

There wasn't much left to pack.

I added toiletries, two notebooks, my father's fountain pen, and an old photograph of my parents before remembering the security instructions.

No identifying photographs.

I sat on the floor holding the picture.

It had been taken at my doctoral graduation.

Dad stood on my left, grinning so widely his eyes nearly disappeared. Mom was crying against my shoulder.

Sterling had not attended.

An acquisition in Singapore had required his presence.

He sent flowers.

White roses.

I hated white roses.

Liana loved them.

I pressed my thumb against my parents' faces in the photograph.

"Five years," I whispered.

Then I placed the picture back inside the drawer.

The hardest part of leaving wasn't Sterling.

That realization was strangely freeing.

My phone buzzed.

Dr. Alden.

[Transportation confirmed. Vehicle arrives at 04:45. Do not be late.]

I replied immediately.

[Understood.]

Another message appeared.

[Have you handled your personal ties?]

I stared at the screen.

[Almost.]

There was one remaining tie.

Sterling.

Not emotionally.

Legally.

Six months earlier, Sterling had insisted on adding me as his emergency medical proxy after Eleanor complained that his work travel made family authorization complicated.

At the time, I had secretly treasured it.

It had felt almost like marriage.

Pathetic.

I opened the digital legal portal Dr. Alden's security team had prepared.

REMOVAL OF MEDICAL PROXY AUTHORIZATION.

I signed.

Next.

REVOCATION OF SHARED RESIDENT ACCESS.

Signed.

Next.

TERMINATION OF DOMESTIC PARTNER BENEFITS.

My finger paused.

Domestic partner.

Six years reduced to two administrative words.

I signed.

A confirmation appeared.

All changes effective 05:00 tomorrow.

Perfect.

A knock sounded at the door.

I closed the laptop.

"Maeve."

Sterling.

"I'm changing."

"Open the door."

"Why?"

"Because it's my bedroom too."

Fair point.

I pushed the suitcase beneath the bed again and unlocked the door.

Sterling entered.

His gaze immediately swept across the room.

"Why was the door locked?"

"I wanted privacy."

"From me?"

"From everyone."

He studied me.

"Dinner is ready."

"I told you I'm not hungry."

"And I told you that you haven't eaten."

"Sterling, I'm capable of deciding when I want food."

"Apparently not."

I laughed softly.

"There you are."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

I walked toward the bathroom.

He moved into my path.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Walking away while I'm speaking."

I stared at him.

The hypocrisy was breathtaking.

"Do you know how many times you've walked away from me while I was speaking?"

"This isn't about me."

"It never is."

His face hardened.

"You've been hostile since the precinct."

"No, Sterling. Hostility requires energy."

"Then what is this?"

I looked at him for several seconds.

"Indifference."

Something flickered behind his eyes.

It disappeared almost immediately.

"You're angry."

"Believe whatever makes sense to you."

"Maeve."

I moved around him.

His good hand caught my arm.

I froze.

His fingers rested over the small adhesive mark from my blood test.

Sterling looked down.

"What's this?"

"Blood draw."

"Why?"

"The screening."

"What exactly are you being screened for?"

"I already told you."

"No. You've avoided answering me all day."

His eyes locked onto mine.

"Are you sick?"

The question caught me completely off guard.

"What?"

"Is something medically wrong with you?"

For the first time since I had discovered the devotion protocol, Sterling looked genuinely unsettled.

Not furious.

Not irritated.

Unsettled.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me what the tests were for."

"I can't."

His grip tightened.

"Why?"

"Because it's confidential."

"Nothing concerning your health is confidential from me."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You can't possibly be serious."

"I'm your medical proxy."

Almost.

For another eleven hours.

"Not everything belongs to you just because you signed paperwork, Sterling."

His expression darkened.

"I never said you belonged to me."

"You never had to."

Silence fell.

His hand remained around my arm.

Then a crash sounded downstairs.

Glass shattering.

Liana screamed.

"Sterling!"

He released me instantly.

Of course he did.

He was out of the room before I could blink.

I stood exactly where he had left me.

Then I laughed.

It wasn't bitter anymore.

It was almost peaceful.

Priority Directive.

No matter the circumstance, Liana must always come first.

Even the universe seemed determined to prove the document accurate.

I followed several minutes later.

A wineglass had shattered in the dining room.

Liana stood beside the table clutching her hand.

A tiny line of blood marked her index finger.

Sterling was crouched beside her.

"Don't move."

"Sterling, it's just a cut."

"There's glass everywhere."

He carefully inspected her finger.

"Declan, get the first-aid kit."

I stopped in the doorway.

A memory hit me so violently that for a second I couldn't breathe.

My palm split open.

Blood covering white marble.

Sterling wrapping it with a towel before returning to his conference call.

Liana had a cut barely larger than a paper slice.

Sterling looked ready to summon a trauma surgeon.

Declan noticed me.

His face changed.

Perhaps he remembered too.

"Maeve," he said quietly.

Sterling glanced over.

Our eyes met.

For once, I didn't hide what I was thinking.

His gaze shifted from my face to Liana's finger.

Then something strange happened.

He looked toward my right hand.

The scar from the kitchen knife was still there.

A pale line crossing my palm.

His eyes remained on it.

For several seconds, Sterling said nothing.

Liana tugged gently on his sleeve.

"Sterling?"

He looked back at her.

"It's superficial," he said.

His voice sounded different.

He stood.

"Declan can bandage it."

Liana blinked.

"You're leaving?"

"For a minute."

Sterling walked directly toward me.

I didn't move.

He stopped in front of me.

"Your hand."

"What about it?"

"The scar."

"What about it?"

His jaw tightened.

"That was the knife accident."

I smiled faintly.

"Congratulations. You remembered."

His eyes darkened.

"I called the ambulance."

"You did."

"I stopped the bleeding."

"You did."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

For once, Sterling had no answer.

I walked around him and headed toward the bedroom.

Behind me, Liana called his name again.

This time, Sterling didn't immediately answer.

I noticed.

But it didn't matter.

Nothing he noticed now mattered.

At 10:03 PM, I finished packing.

Eight hours remained.

Sterling was downstairs in his study.

Liana had gone to the guest suite.

The penthouse was finally quiet.

I took one last shower and changed into comfortable clothes.

Then I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room.

Six years.

This was where I had waited for Sterling after late meetings.

Where I had celebrated birthdays alone.

Where I had convinced myself that sleeping beside someone counted as intimacy.

I reached into my bedside drawer and removed the supplementary black Amex card.

I placed it on Sterling's pillow.

Beside it, I put the key card to the penthouse.

No letter.

No accusation.

No explanation.

He didn't deserve one.

My phone vibrated.

[Extraction vehicle confirmed for 04:45.]

I set an alarm for four.

Then the bedroom door opened.

Sterling entered.

His gaze immediately landed on the card and key resting on his pillow.

He stopped.

For the first time that night, I saw something unmistakable cross Sterling Vance's face.

Fear.

His eyes moved from the key card to me.

"What is this?"

I looked at the clock.

10:11 PM.

Less than seven hours before I left.

"You don't need to worry about it tonight."

Sterling picked up the key.

"Why are you giving this back?"

"Because I don't need it anymore."

His entire body went still.

"Maeve."

"I'm tired."

"Answer me."

I pulled back the covers.

"Goodnight, Sterling."

He stared at me as if I had suddenly started speaking a language he didn't understand.

Then his gaze moved toward the space beneath the bed.

The edge of my black suitcase was visible.

Sterling's face changed.

He bent down.

My heartbeat stopped.

His fingers closed around the suitcase handle.

And slowly, Sterling Vance pulled my packed suitcase out from beneath the bed.