Chapter 4

Adrian arrived in Boston a little after three in the morning. He had driven through the night without stopping. The sky was still dark, and he parked in front of Mara's parents' house. He sat there for a moment before he got out.

He rang the doorbell and waited. He rang again. The door opened, and Mara's mother stood behind the chain. She did not open the door. She looked at him through the narrow gap.

"Mrs. Ellison, I know it is late. I apologize. But I need to see Mara."

She looked at him for a few seconds without stepping aside or closing the door. "She is not here."

"She went back to Boston, did she not? Is she staying here? I can wait outside—"

"She did not come back." Mrs. Ellison's voice was calm. "Where she is, we cannot say."

"Mrs. Ellison—"

"There is no point in asking." She stood behind the chain, her hand on the edge of the doorframe, not moving aside. "Mara is an adult. She makes her own choices. She decided to leave, and we support that. She does not want us to tell anyone where she went, and we will not."

"Mr. Vale, I know what kind of family you come from." Her voice stayed steady, and each word was clear. "When she first met you, we looked up the Vale name. We knew it was not an ordinary family. We knew what you would inherit. We always hoped she would be safe in that relationship. That she would be treated well."

"I know I made mistakes—"

"Let me finish." She cut him off. "Mara never complained to us. The times you called her the wrong name, the things you gave away, what happened at her office. She did not tell us. We found out later." She paused. "She called to say she was moving. She said she was not coming back to New York."

"Mrs. Ellison, I know I hurt her. I just want to see her, even for a moment—"

"She will not see you." Mrs. Ellison's voice stayed even. "It took her three years to leave. She is not going to undo that for you. Please leave. Do not come back. You have already caused enough trouble for her. If you keep coming here, we will call the police. That is not a threat. That is us protecting our daughter."

The door closed softly. Adrian stood there for a moment, then turned and walked back to his car.

He sat in the driver's seat, and the sky outside was shifting from deep blue to gray. He dialed a number from the Vale family's internal network, the one that handled information gathering.

"I need to find someone. Mara Ellison. She boarded a flight in New York. Check every international airport. Flights to Europe, North America, South America. Any possible destination. She left, and I need to know where she went."

I had been in London for almost a month.

On the weekend, I went to a secondhand bookshop and bought an old novel with a worn cover. I brought it back to the apartment and sat by the window for an afternoon. I realized I had not sat still like that in a long time. In New York, my weekends had always been full going to his estate, taking care of Adrian, arranging his schedule. I always felt like I needed to keep doing things so he would forget Selene and finally pay attention to me.

But while I was doing all that, I had forgotten to look at myself. I had forgotten to ask what I wanted.

Monday evening, I came home from work and was about to unlock the door when I saw someone standing at the end of the hallway. I turned and recognized him.

It had been over a month since I had seen Adrian, and he looked thinner than before. He wore a dark gray coat and had nothing in his hands, but his left hand was in his pocket, holding something.

"How did you find this place?"

"I had the family check all the airport records. They tracked your flight to London, then your company registration, then this building." His voice was lower than I remembered. He did not sound like he had a plan.

"You should not have come."

"I know." He stepped forward and stopped. "But I came anyway."

I stood at the door without opening it. He looked at me for a long moment before he spoke. "I came to apologize."

"You do not need to say it."

"I ordered a new ring." He pulled the dark blue velvet box from his pocket. His voice slowed, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. "A newer design, a larger diamond. It only has your name on it. No one else."

I looked at the box and did not let my eyes stay on it. "You waited a month just to tell me you bought a new ring?"

He did not answer. I paused. "Adrian, you followed me to London. You waited a month to have a new ring made. Do you really think any of that changes what happened? You called me by the wrong name for three years. You gave away the things I made. You waited a month to come here because you finally realized you went too far, or because you just could not stand being told no?"

"I was wrong. I know I was wrong. I want to make it right. You do not have to come back to New York. I can move here. I can travel back and forth. I can—"

"You can do what? You can redo the last three years?"

He stopped.

I kept my voice level. "You never asked me what I wanted. You gave when you felt like giving, and you pulled away when it was inconvenient. I spent three years in that relationship, and I was just the background. You never planned to let me be anything more."

"That is not true." His voice dropped, slow and low. "I came here not to prove anything. I came to bring you back. I thought you would wait for me to sort out the mess, and then you would come back. I thought I had time. But I did not. I only realized it when you left."

I stood at the door for a long time. "I spent three years waiting for you to remember my name. You never really did. You just learned to pause before you said it. You never learned not to think of her. If you really remembered, you would not need to pause."

"I was bitter before, but I have changed now."

"You have only changed for a month."

He stopped talking. After a long silence, I said, "You should go."

He did not move.

"I am not going back with you. It does not matter how long you wait here."

"I will come back."

"I do not need you to."

I opened the door, walked inside, and closed it behind me. I was learning to be the main character in my own life, not just a part of someone else's story. I had started practicing not looking back, and every time I succeeded, it got a little easier. This time, I had done it again.