Chapter 122
No.1
At eleven o'clock, the heavy mahogany door of the Manhattan penthouse clicked open.3
Elisa stepped inside. The massive, multi-million-dollar apartment was completely dark. The air conditioning was set too high, making the space feel like a sterile, freezing vault.
She dropped her velvet clutch onto the marble entryway table. The sound echoed loudly in the dead silence.
Elisa walked straight to the master suite. She unzipped the suffocating Oscar de la Renta gown,letting the heavy fabric pool on the floor like a discarded skin. She pulled on a simple, long-sleeved silk pajama set and locked herself inside the master bathroom.2
She turned the shower on full blast, letting the scalding hot water beat down on her tense shoulders, trying to wash the smell of August's cologne and the museum's stale air off her body.
At one in the morning, the faint, electronic chime of the front door keypad echoed through the quiet apartment.
August was home.2
No.2
Elisa lay flat on her back in the center of the massive king-size bed. The room was pitch black.
She kept her breathing shallow, her ears tracking the heavy, muffled thud of his leather shoes against the hardwood floor.
The footsteps did not come toward the master suite. They moved straight down the long hallway,stopping at the far end.
The door to the guest room clicked shut.
He didn't even bother to open her door to check if she was awake. He didn't care. The physical distance between them was exactly what Elisa wanted, yet the blatant disregard still felt like a cold draft in the room.
At three in the morning, the sky over Manhattan broke open. A torrential downpour of freezing rain began to lash against the floor-to-ceiling windows,the heavy drops sounding like gravel hitting the glass.
Elisa groaned softly. A sharp, twisting cramp seized her stomach. She hadn't eaten anything at the gala.
No.3
She pushed the heavy down comforter aside. Her bare feet hit the thick wool rug. She walked out of the master suite, intending to go to the kitchen for a glass of warm water.①
As she stepped into the dark hallway, the handle of the guest room door suddenly clicked.
Elisa froze. Her survival instincts kicked in instantly.She took a rapid step backward, pressing her body flat against the dark wall, completely hidden in the deep shadows of the corridor.
The guest room door swung open.
August stepped out. He was no longer wearing his tuxedo. He was dressed in a dark cashmere overcoat over a simple black sweater. In his left hand,he gripped the keys to his Maybach.
His hair was slightly disheveled. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles bulged. He held his phone pressed hard against his ear, his head tilted down.
In the dead silence of the penthouse, his low,frantic voice carried perfectly down the hall.
No.4
"Allena, listen to me," August said, his tone thick with a desperate, pacifying anxiety. "I know your ankle hurts. Stop crying. I'm leaving right now.I will be there in ten minutes. Just breathe."
He dlidn't wait for his driver. He didn't call security.
August walked rapidly past the shadows where Elisa stood. He moved with the frantic, unthinking speed of a man completely controlled by panic.
He reached the front door, yanked it open, and rushed out into the private elevator lobby. He was in such a rush that he didn't even pause to ensure the heavy, auto-closing door latched properly behind him. Elisa stepped out of the shadows,catching the edge of the heavy mahogany before it could click shut,leaving a two-inch gap of light spilling into the dark entryway.
She stared at the slightly open door. Her black eyes were completely devoid of emotion.There
was no anger. There was no heartbreak.There was only a profound, clinical disgust.
She walked to the front door and pushed it shut until the electronic lock clicked heavily into place.She engaged the deadbolt.
No.5
Elisa turned and walked into the massive living room. She bypassed the kitchen and walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
She looked down at the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan.
A minute later, the black Maybach shot out of the underground parking garage. It tore through the freezing rain, its headlights cutting aggressively through the dark as it sped north, heading straight for the Upper East Side where Allena lived.
Elisa pressed her forehead against the freezing glass.
The absurdity of the situation was almost poetic.The great August Chambers, the ruthless billionaire who terrified Wall Street, had snuck back into his own home just to clock in for his mother's surveillance. And now, at three in the morning,in the middle of a freezing storm, he was running out like a desperate, obedient dog because his mistress shed a few fake tears.
This was the man she had loved for seven years.This was the man who held her life hostage. A coward with no spine.
Elisa pushed away from the glass. She walked over to the heavy oak coffee table.
No.6
She opened the hidden compartment and pulled out a small, heavy metal lockbox. She punched in the code. The lid popped open.
Inside lay the pristine copy of their marriage contract. The seven-year expiration date was clearly printed on the first page.
Elisa reached out. Her fingertips traced the sharp,black ink of August's signature at the bottom of the page. Her eyes narrowed, the pupils contracting into sharp, dangerous points.
She was done analyzing his feelings. She was done caring about his motives. The only thing that mattered now was tearing the maximum amount of flesh from his empire before this contract legally dissolved.1
Elisa walked to the crystal bar cart. She didn't pour water. She grabbed a heavy crystal tumbler and poured three fingers of pure, unaged whiskey.
She raised the glass and swallowed the liquid in one long,burning gulp.
The alcohol seared her throat, lighting a hot,violent fire in her chest. It burned away the last remnants of the obedient wife, fully igniting the cold,calculating machine named Faye.4
No.7
Elisa picked up her encrypted phone from the table. She opened a secure messaging app and typed a single line to Alastair.
The timeline is moving up. Prepare to close the net at the MedTech Expo.2
She hit send.
Elisa dropped the phone onto the leather sofa. She walked back to the master suite and locked the door behind her. She climbed into the massive bed,pulled the covers up, and closed her eyes.
For the first time in seven years, she slept through the night without waking up once. She had absolutely nothing left to lose.