A woman who's been broken and is starting to like the shape of the pieces.
The driver's eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. "Where to, Miss Sinclair?"
I close my eyes, tears finally sliding down my cheeks.
"Home," I say quietly. "Take me home."
And I mean it. Nathan's penthouse, Nathan's bed, Nathan's possession—that's home now.
I've stopped fighting. Stopped pretending. The cage door is open, and I'm walking back in of my own accord, because the world outside is colder than the warmth of his obsessive fire.
He broke me. And in the breaking, he showed me what I really wanted all along.
I don't care anymore. I'm too tired to care.
I just want to stop hurting. And in his arms, wrapped in his obsession, I finally do.
Chapter 16 - Nathan
The penthouse is too quiet.
I've been sitting in my study for the past hour, pretending to review financial reports, but the numbers blur into meaningless shapes on the screen. My mind is elsewhere—on her, always on her.
Eve hasn't spoken to me since she came back home. She disappeared into the guest room, and I let her go, sensing she needed space to process everything. The company saved. Bryce destroyed. Her life fundamentally altered in the span of forty-eight hours.
But it's been too long now. The silence feels wrong, heavy with something I can't name.
I close my laptop and move through the penthouse, checking each room. Empty. Empty. The guest room door stands ajar, the bed untouched.
A cold finger of worry traces down my spine.
Then I see it—the door to the rooftop garden is open, letting in the cool night air.
I take the stairs two at a time.
***
She's sitting on the stone bench at the edge of the garden, surrounded by the city's glittering sprawl. The wind catches her red hair, whipping it around her face. She doesn't turn when I approach, doesn't acknowledge my presence at all.
She's shivering. The thin sweater she's wearing does nothing against the autumn chill.
I grab a blanket from the storage chest near the door and move toward her slowly, the way you'd approach a wounded animal. When I drape it around her shoulders, she finally looks up at me.
Her eyes are red-rimmed. She's been crying.
Something in my chest cracks.
"Eve," I say quietly, sitting beside her. "You're freezing."
"I can't feel it," she whispers. Her voice is hollow, distant. "I can't feel anything."
I pull the blanket tighter around her, and she doesn't resist. We sit in silence for a long moment, the city humming below us, oblivious to our small tragedy.
"I dream about the accident," I say suddenly. The words come unbidden, pulled from some deep place I've kept locked for sixteen years. "Every night. The sound of metal twisting. The smell of gasoline and blood. Alex's laughter in my ears, and then... nothing."
She turns to look at me, surprise flickering in her empty eyes.
"The doctors said I was lucky to survive," I continue, my voice rough.
