She turned onto her side and pulled the pillow closer. The tears had dried on her face, tight and itchy, but she didn't get up to wash them off. She stayed in the dark and let herself feel the weight of what she’d lost and the shape of the empty space within her heart where Astoria used to be.
20
Chapter 20: Astoria
The elevator doors opened onto the twenty-fifth floor at 5:47 a.m., and Astoria stepped into darkness. Emergency lights glowed at the exits, casting pale pools across the carpet. No one else would arrive for at least another hour: Gloria at seven, the early risers trickling in after that. Astoria walked through the empty reception area without turning on the lights, her heels silent on the plush carpet, and let herself into her office.
She didn’t bother with the overheads, just the desk lamp, its warm circle illuminating her laptop and the stack of files she'd left Friday afternoon. That was before, when she still had something to look forward to after the work was done.
Astoria sat down and opened her laptop.
The weekend had been unbearable. Forty-eight hours of silence in that house, her thoughts circling like vultures over carrion. She'd tried to work from home—spreadsheets, projections, emails that could have waited until Monday—butthe quiet kept pressing in. She kept reaching for her phone, expecting a text that wasn't coming.
Work was better. Work was always there for her.
She pulled up the quarterly reports and began to read.
Gloria found her at seven, already deep into a financial analysis she'd technically delegated to Marcus three weeks ago.
“You’re here early.” Gloria stood in the doorway, her coat still on, a coffee in hand.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Astoria didn’t look up from her screen. “I want to review the Cascadia projections before the investor meeting on Wednesday. Marcus’s numbers seemed overly optimistic.”
There was a pause, and Astoria could feel Gloria studying her, the same way Gloria had studied her for the last ten years, cataloguing the signs that something was wrong.
“I’ll get you a coffee,” Gloria said finally.
“I’ve already had two cups.”
“I’ll get you breakfast then.”
“I’m not hungry.”
There was another pause, longer this time, and Astoria forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on the screen until she heard Gloria’s footsteps retreat down the hall.
The numbers in the report blurred. She blinked them back into focus and kept working.
By Wednesday, the new pattern had calcified into a routine: office by five-thirty, meetings starting at eight, lunch delivered to her desk and left untouched until Gloria quietly removed it at two.
She had more meetings, more calls, more problems to solve that weren’t her own heart. She always got back home after ten, sometimes eleven, and her sleep came in fragments—two hours here, three hours there, never deep enough to dream.
The investor meeting went flawlessly. Astoria stood at the head of the conference table in her sharpest suit, the Cascadia development plans projected behind her, and delivered a presentation that made three venture capitalists reach for their checkbooks. She answered every question with precision. She smiled at the right moments and sustained eye contact that communicated confidence.
No one in that room would have guessed she was running on caffeine and spite.
Afterward, Gerald caught her in the hallway.
“Astoria.” He fell into step behind her, his silvery hair catching the fluorescent light. “I wanted to update you on the case. Rachel Hartwell’s team has filed their pre-trial motions and?—”
“I don’t need updates.” The words came out sharper than she intended. She kept walking, her stride too fast and her heels clicking an irritated rhythm. “That’s what I pay you for.”
Gerald’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You’ve always wanted to be kept informed.”
“The situation has changed.” She stopped at the elevator, stabbing the button more times than needed. “Handle it and bill me. I don’t want to hear about it unless something requires my direct attention.”
She could feel the heat of his eyes on her. Gerald had been her attorney long enough to know when she was deflecting, to notice she hadn’t asked a single question about strategy or timelines, and definitely to notice that she flinched, almost imperceptibly, when he saidRachel Hartwell’s team.
The elevator dinged open, and Astoria stepped inside. “Let me know if I’m needed.” The doors closed between them.
