Chapter 6 No.6

She didn't look at the broken glass. She didn't look at William. She turned and ran to the bedroom.

William followed her to the doorway. She was frantically pulling a dress from the closet. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't manage the zipper.

Arthur Sterling. The only man in this godforsaken family who had treated her like a human being. The only one who remembered her birthday. The only one who defended her against Eleanor.

William watched her panic. His eyes narrowed. The fear in her seemed real, but the cynicism in his heart was a deep, rot-filled root.

"Hurry up," he said coldly.

"I'm trying!" Mia snapped, grabbing her purse. Her eyes were swimming with tears.

"Don't overact, Mia," William said.

Mia froze. She turned slowly to face him. "Excuse me?"

"He hasn't signed the final amendment to the trust yet," William said, leaning against the doorframe. "This display of devotion... your timing is impeccable, isn't it? Hoping the old man sees your tears one last time and adds a few zeros to your name?"

The air left the room.

Mia stared at him. For a moment, she looked like she might hit him. Then, her shoulders slumped, not in defeat, but in sheer exhaustion.

"Not everyone operates like a Sterling, William," she said quietly. "Not everyone sees a dying man and sees a bank account."

She pushed past him.

In the elevator, they stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the steel doors. The silence was suffocating.

Down in the garage, the black Lincoln was waiting with the driver holding the door open. They slid into the back seat. The door thudded shut, sealing them in leather-scented intimacy.

The car merged into the Manhattan traffic. Mia stared out the window, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. A tear escaped, tracking silently down her cheek.

William watched her from the corner of his eye.

The grief looked genuine. The trembling looked real.

A crack formed in his certainty. Is she actually... sad?

He shook his head, physically dispelling the thought. No. She's a master manipulator. She trapped me. She wants the money. He repeated the mantra, rebuilding his walls.

---