The bell over the diner door sounded like a funeral dirge. Martha was in the middle of the floor, surrounded by half-packed boxes of salt shakers and napkins, looking like she'd aged a decade in a single night.
When she saw me, she dropped the box she was holding. "Alina? Where have you been? I called your phone a hundred times."
I didn't look at her eyes. I couldn't. I just walked over and slapped the manila envelope onto the counter. My skin felt like it was crawling, a phantom itch from Julian's sheets that no amount of hot water could scrub off.
"It's over," I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to a recording. "The zoning thing was a mistake. A 'misunderstanding' between Julian and the city. The diner is yours. Permanently."
Martha grabbed the papers, her hands shaking as she read through the lease. "How? Alina, how did you do this? I saw him, I saw that look in his eye..."
"I negotiated," I snapped, the word feeling like a mouthful of glass. "I went to his office. I told him that if he didn't back off, I'd make enough noise to ruin his precious reputation. He's a businessman, Martha. He knows when a fight isn't worth the legal fees."
Martha looked at me then, really looked at me. She saw the missing button on my shirt, the dark circles under my eyes, and the way I wouldn't let her get within three feet of me. "Alina... did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine!" I yelled, the sound echoing off the empty booths. I took a breath, forcing my hands to stop shaking. "I'm just tired. I'm gonna go talk to Silas. I need... I just need to see him."
I didn't wait for her to ask more questions. I couldn't bear the gratitude in her voice when the price of that paper was the soul I'd left on the fortieth floor.
I drove back up the ridge. I told myself I was going there for help. I told myself that if I told Silas the truth, the real truth, he'd know what to do. He was the mountain. He was the only thing big enough to stop a man like Julian. I needed him to hold me. I needed him to tell me I wasn't dirty.
I pulled into the drive and didn't even stop to breathe before I was at the door, pounding on it. "Silas! Silas, please! I need to talk to you!"
The door didn't take an hour to open this time. It swung wide after a few seconds.
But it wasn't Silas.
A woman stood in the doorway. She was in her late forties, a tall, striking blonde with the kind of expensive skin that only comes from decades of maintenance. She wasn't just 'visiting.' She was wearing one of Silas's oversized shirts, the same kind I'd worn, and nothing else. Her hair was a mess of bedroom tangles, and her lipstick was smudged in a way that left no room for imagination.
She leaned against the doorframe, eyeing my wrinkled uniform and messy hair with a look of bored pity. "Can I help you, sweetie? If you're here for the landscaping bill, Silas is... occupied."
The air left my lungs. It felt like the ground had finally opened up and swallowed me whole.
"I... I'm Alina," I managed to choke out.
"Oh! The niece!" The woman smiled, a sharp, practiced thing. "Silas mentioned you. He said you were heading back to the city. I'm Elena. An old friend. We've been... catching up."
Behind her, in the dim light of the hallway, I saw Silas. He was shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned at the waist, reaching for a glass of scotch on the side table. He looked at me, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of shame in his eyes. But then he looked at the blonde, at the way she was draped in his shirt, and his face went back to that granite mask.
"She's leaving, Elena," Silas said, his voice a low, flat rumble. He didn't come to the door. He didn't move to help me. He just stood there, looking like a man who had decided to drown his feelings in whatever was available.
"Right," I whispered. My throat felt like it was closing up. "Right. I'm leaving."
"Alina—" Silas started, but Elena turned and put a hand on his chest, giggling at something he hadn't even said.
I didn't stay to hear the rest. I turned and ran for the car, the sound of my own heart shattering louder than the engine as I peeled out of the driveway.
Julian was right. Silas didn't want a disaster. He wanted peace. And if he couldn't have peace with me, he'd find it in the arms of someone who didn't come with baggage and bruises.
I drove back toward the city, my vision blurred by tears I refused to let fall. I reached into my bag and felt the gold keys to the penthouse. The weight of them felt like a promise now, rather than a threat.
Silas had his 'old friend.' Martha had her diner. And I? I had the fortieth floor.
If the world wanted me to be a nightmare, I was going to be the best one they'd ever seen. I wasn't going to hide. I was going back to that glass box. I was going to use Julian's money, Julian's name, and Julian's bed until I found a way to make them all pay for leaving me in the cold.
Fucking gentlemen, I thought, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.