Chapter 7: The Suitcase

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

The wheels scraped softly against the hardwood floor.

In the silence of the bedroom, the sound was deafening.

His eyes moved from the suitcase to me.

"Where are you going?"

I pulled the blanket over my legs.

"Away."

His expression hardened.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I'm giving you tonight."

Sterling straightened slowly. His good hand remained wrapped around the suitcase handle while his injured arm rested in its sling.

"How long?"

"I'm not sure."

"Where?"

"I can't tell you."

His jaw flexed.

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

For several seconds, he simply stared at me.

I could almost see his mind working.

Sterling understood numbers, acquisitions, algorithms, risk models, hostile takeovers, and corporate warfare. Give him a collapsing company and he could restructure it before breakfast.

But put a packed suitcase belonging to his girlfriend in front of him, and suddenly the great Sterling Vance had no idea what to do.

"Is this about the medical screening?"

I didn't answer.

"Maeve."

I reached for the lamp.

"I need to sleep."

Sterling grabbed the suitcase and placed it upright beside him.

"You're not sleeping until you explain this."

I looked at him.

"You don't get to decide that."

"I live here."

"So do I."

I paused.

"For tonight."

Something changed in his face.

It was subtle, but I saw it.

"For tonight?"

I immediately regretted the wording.

Not because I wanted to protect his feelings.

Because Dr. Alden had made the security requirements very clear.

Nobody could know when I was leaving.

Nobody could follow me.

Nobody could interfere with extraction.

"I have an early research assignment," I said.

"You're lying."

I almost laughed.

"You know when I'm lying now?"

"Your breathing changes."

That silenced me.

Sterling continued, "You inhale more slowly before answering when you're trying to control your voice."

I stared at him.

Six years.

Six years of insisting he couldn't understand emotion.

And now he could identify changes in my breathing.

"Interesting," I murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Stop saying nothing."

"Then stop asking questions you ignored for six years."

His eyes narrowed.

"What exactly have I ignored?"

I looked at him for a long moment.

There were hundreds of answers.

My birthdays.

My nightmares.

My father's heart attack.

My fear of walking alone at night.

My almond allergy.

My career.

My loneliness.

Me.

But explaining any of it now felt pointless.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters if you're packing a suitcase."

"Why?"

"Because you live here."

"That's not what I asked."

Sterling went silent.

I leaned back against the headboard.

"Why does it matter to you that I'm leaving?"

His answer should have been simple.

Because I love you.

Six years together.

Three words.

That was all.

Sterling stared at me.

One second.

Two.

Five.

Ten.

His mouth opened.

"Because your behavior is irrational."

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Somewhere inside me, the final microscopic fragment of hope finally died.

"Goodnight, Sterling."

"Maeve—"

"I'm serious."

I turned onto my side.

"Take the suitcase if looking at it bothers you. Throw it out the window for all I care. I'm sleeping."

Sterling didn't move.

I could feel him staring at my back.

Eventually, the suitcase wheels rolled across the floor.

The bedroom door closed.

I opened my eyes.

The suitcase was gone.

I sat up immediately.

"You've got to be kidding me."

I threw back the blanket and followed him.

Sterling was halfway down the hallway carrying my suitcase.

"Sterling."

He kept walking.

"Where are you taking that?"

"My study."

"Give it back."

"No."

I almost laughed from sheer disbelief.

"You're stealing my luggage now?"

"I'm preventing you from making an impulsive decision while you're emotionally compromised."

I stopped dead.

"Emotionally compromised?"

He turned.

"You haven't slept properly. You haven't eaten. Something happened at this medical facility that you're refusing to explain, and now you're apparently planning to leave in the middle of the night."

"You don't have the right to stop me."

"I'm not stopping you."

I pointed at the suitcase.

"What would you call that?"

"Removing an unnecessary variable."

I stared at him.

Then I started laughing.

Not a polite laugh.

Not even a sane one.

I laughed until tears filled my eyes.

Sterling's expression became increasingly severe.

"What's funny?"

"You really don't understand."

"Then explain it."

"I don't need that suitcase to leave you."

The laughter vanished.

Sterling froze.

There it was.

Leave you.

For the second time in six years, I had put the possibility into words.

The first time, after my father's heart attack, Sterling had responded with two words.

Suit yourself.

Tonight, he didn't say them.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

His grip tightened around the handle.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

I looked at him.

The truth sat on my tongue.

Yes.

But Elysium required a clean disappearance.

No confrontation that could trigger surveillance.

No suspicious travel trail.

No powerful billionaire deciding to investigate where I was going.

I needed Sterling calm until 4:45.

"I'm saying a suitcase can't keep someone in a relationship."

"That's not what I asked."

"Then maybe you should spend some time thinking about why you're afraid of the answer."

His face turned cold.

"I'm not afraid."

"Of course not. You don't have emotions."

The words landed harder than I intended.

Sterling stared at me.

Then a door opened behind us.

Liana stepped into the hallway.

"What's going on?"

She was wearing a silk robe over her pajamas.

Her eyes immediately dropped to my suitcase.

"Maeve, are you leaving?"

I said nothing.

Sterling answered for me.

"No."

The certainty in his voice made something ugly twist inside my chest.

Liana looked between us.

"But she's packed."

"She's upset."

My eyes snapped toward him.

"Don't speak for me."

Liana took a cautious step forward.

"Is this because I'm staying here?"

"No."

"Maeve, if my being here is making you uncomfortable, I can leave."

Sterling immediately turned toward her.

"You're not going anywhere."

There it was again.

Automatic.

Instant.

Absolute.

Liana lowered her gaze.

"I just don't want to cause problems between you two."

"You aren't."

"Sterling—"

"Liana." His voice softened. "You're staying."

I watched them.

Then I smiled.

"She's right."

Both of them looked at me.

"Liana isn't causing any problems between us."

Sterling's shoulders relaxed slightly.

He thought I was surrendering.

I continued, "She couldn't destroy something that was already broken."

His expression changed.

Liana went completely silent.

I walked toward Sterling.

"My suitcase."

"No."

"Give it to me."

"We'll discuss this tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

I almost smiled.

There would be no tomorrow for us.

"Fine."

Sterling frowned.

"Fine?"

"Keep it."

I turned around.

"Maeve."

I kept walking.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep."

"Without your suitcase?"

I looked back over my shoulder.

"You were right about one thing, Sterling. It's just an unnecessary variable."

For once, he had absolutely nothing to say.

I returned to the bedroom and locked the door.

The suitcase didn't matter.

My extraction essentials could fit inside my research tote.

Passport.

Clearance documents.

One change of clothes.

Medication.

My father's fountain pen.

Everything else could disappear with Maeve Hart.

At 11:36 PM, I received another message from Dr. Alden.

[Final security confirmation required. Reply YES to authorize permanent communications blackout beginning at 0500.]

I typed:

[YES.]

A response appeared immediately.

[Confirmed. After 0500, your civilian number will be deactivated. Personal email accounts will enter classified archival status. Do not attempt outside contact after extraction.]

Six hours.

I set my phone down.

Sleep was impossible.

At midnight, I heard Sterling pacing outside the bedroom.

He never paced.

At 12:18, the door handle moved.

Locked.

Silence.

At 12:41, he tried again.

At 1:03, my phone buzzed.

STERLING: Open the door.

I ignored it.

STERLING: Maeve.

Then:

STERLING: We need to talk.

I stared at the messages.

Six years.

How many nights had I begged for those exact words?

We need to talk.

Now he wanted conversation because I had stopped asking for it.

I turned my phone facedown.

At 1:27, someone knocked softly.

"Maeve."

Sterling's voice.

I remained silent.

"I know you're awake."

Still nothing.

"Your breathing changes when you're asleep."

I nearly laughed.

Apparently Sterling Vance had memorized my breathing pattern too.

Just never anything that mattered while I still cared.

"Go away, Sterling."

There was a pause.

"Open the door."

"No."

"I want to talk."

"I don't."

Silence.

Then he said something I had never heard from him before.

"Please."

My heart stopped.

Sterling Vance did not say please.

Not to employees.

Not to family.

Certainly not to me.

For a moment, my hand moved toward the lock.

Then my phone lit up.

04:45 EXTRACTION VEHICLE CONFIRMED.

Reality returned.

I pulled my hand away.

"Tomorrow," I said through the door.

The lie tasted bitter.

"We'll talk tomorrow."

Sterling remained outside for another minute.

"Promise?"

My eyes burned.

How cruel that he finally wanted promises when I had none left to give.

"Go get some sleep."

Eventually, his footsteps retreated.

At 3:58 AM, my alarm vibrated silently beneath my pillow.

I turned it off immediately.

The penthouse was dark.

I changed into black trousers, a sweater, and waterproof boots.

Everything I needed went into my leather research tote.

I looked around the bedroom one final time.

The dresses.

The jewelry.

The photographs Sterling never displayed.

The empty half of a life I had spent six years building.

I left everything.

At 4:21, I opened the bedroom door.

The hallway was silent.

Sterling's study door stood partially open.

My suitcase was visible inside.

I walked past it.

Downstairs, I paused beside the kitchen.

The jar of roasted almonds still sat on the shelf.

I stared at it for several seconds.

Then I walked away.

At 4:34, I reached the foyer.

Eleven minutes.

I removed the final object from my pocket.

A small platinum key Sterling had given me during our first year together.

It wasn't necessary anymore; the building had switched to biometric access years ago.

But I had kept it.

Sterling had once placed it in my palm and said, "Now you don't need permission to come home."

At the time, I had thought it was the closest thing to a declaration of love I would ever receive.

I placed the key on the console table.

Then I heard a voice behind me.

"Maeve?"

I froze.

Not Sterling.

Liana.

She stood at the top of the staircase.

Her hair was messy from sleep, but her eyes were completely alert.

Her gaze dropped to my tote.

Then to the key.

"You're really leaving."

I said nothing.

She descended slowly.

"Where are you going?"

"That's none of your business."

"Does Sterling know?"

"No."

Something unreadable crossed her face.

"You're leaving without telling him?"

"Yes."

Liana stopped several feet away.

For a moment, she simply stared at me.

Then, surprisingly, she smiled.

"Maybe that's better."

I studied her.

"Better for whom?"

Her smile disappeared.

"I didn't mean—"

"You did."

Silence.

I checked the time.

4:39.

Six minutes.

Liana looked toward the hallway leading to Sterling's bedroom.

"He'll be furious when he wakes up."

"He'll survive."

"You really don't understand him."

I almost laughed.

"No. I finally do."

The private elevator chimed softly.

My extraction vehicle had arrived downstairs.

I stepped toward it.

Liana suddenly caught my arm.

"Wait."

I looked at her hand.

She released me.

"What am I supposed to tell Sterling?"

"Whatever you want."

"Maeve—"

"Tell him you won."

Her face went pale.

The elevator doors opened.

I stepped inside.

Then a door slammed somewhere behind us.

Heavy footsteps thundered across the marble floor.

"Maeve!"

Sterling.

Liana spun around.

My blood turned cold.

Sterling appeared at the end of the hallway wearing black sweatpants and nothing else, his injured arm still trapped in the sling.

His eyes went immediately to me.

Then to the tote.

Then to the elevator.

Understanding hit him.

His face transformed.

"Don't close that door."

I pressed the lobby button.

"Maeve."

He started running.

The elevator doors began sliding shut.

"MAEVE!"

For the first time in six years, Sterling Vance's voice contained naked panic.

He reached the elevator just as the gap narrowed.

His good hand shot forward.

The doors stopped.

They reopened.

Sterling stood directly in front of me, breathing hard.

His eyes were wild.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

I looked at the digital clock above the elevator panel.

4:42 AM.

Three minutes until the extraction vehicle expected me downstairs.

I lifted my eyes to Sterling.

For six years, I had waited for him to care whether I stayed.

Now, when I had only three minutes left to disappear, he finally did.