Caddie recognized the car before the window finished lowering. She had seen it twice outside her apartment building in the past month, always at a distance, always waiting. She had never had time to stop.
Now she did.
The rear door opened. Burrell Kensington stepped out, his tailored suit immaculate despite the late hour. He stopped a respectful distance away, his eyes scanning her face with open concern.
"Caddie." He said her name with an unusual gravity.
"You know me." Her voice was flat. She was too tired to offer more.
"Your hands are shaking," he said quietly. "When did you last eat?"
She looked down at her own hands. He was right. She curled her fingers into loose fists and let them fall to her sides. "I don't remember."
He reached into his jacket and withdrew a thin envelope. "A month ago, someone took a coffee cup from my building. A DNA sample. That was you, wasn't it?"
Caddie didn't deny it.
"The results came back." He slid out a single page. "A 99.99% match. "
His voice dropped, but it remained clear. "Which makes me your uncle."
Caddie lowered her eyes. She had waited outside his office building for hours, eventually taking the cup from an assistant's hand. She had needed an answer, and she had been terrified of it. For a month, the report had sat unopened in her inbox.
"You knew where I was all along," she said.
"I did." Pain crossed his face. "And I knew that for the past month, you've been running yourself ragged for that man. You couldn't even spare an hour to have coffee with me."
Caddie's throat tightened. She turned her head toward the street.
"Your mother is still alive," Burrell continued. "She has never stopped searching for you."
Caddie turned back. "I need to deal with Julien first. Then I'll come."
Burrell didn't argue. He simply nodded and stepped aside. "I'll have someone follow you. For safety."
She didn't say no. She got into the Bentley, and Burrell gave the driver her address.
The apartment she had shared with Julien was cold and empty. Every object—the books on the shelf, the throw blanket on the sofa, the photos on the wall—was a monument to a lie. She felt no sentimentality. She pulled out two large suitcases and began to pack. She took only what was hers. Anything Julien had given her, even a paperback book, she left behind.
At four in the morning, Julien stumbled in. He smelled of expensive whiskey and a perfume that wasn't hers—Kiersten's. He saw the suitcases and Caddie methodically folding clothes, and his face twisted into a scowl.
"What are you doing? Having a breakdown in the middle of the night?" His voice was heavy with condescending impatience.
Caddie didn't stop. She placed the last sweater into her suitcase and zipped it shut.
He strode over and grabbed her wrist. "Answer me."
She didn't pull away. She just looked up at him. The expression in her eyes was so empty it made his grip loosen on its own.
She withdrew her hand and reached up to unclasp the necklace from her neck. The delicate diamond chain. His engagement gift. She tossed it onto the coffee table, where it landed with a soft clink.
"What is this?" His voice sharpened. "Some kind of game?"
She picked up her phone.
"Don't you dare ignore me." He stepped closer, his chest almost touching her shoulder. "You think you can just leave? You can't survive in New York without me. I gave you your job. Your friends are my friends."
She didn't answer. She opened her contacts.
"You should apologize right now," he said, his voice dropping low. "And I can pretend this never happened."
Her thumb tapped the screen. A call connected. She pressed speaker.
The frantic voice of Mark, the CTO of Levine Dynamics, filled the silent apartment. "Julien! Thank God! It's a disaster! Our core server—all the core algorithms and data, it's all locked! Someone just triggered the highest-level 'scorched earth' protocol!"
Mark's voice verged on tears. "Everything—local, cloud backups—it's all on a countdown to deletion! We can't stop it! Was it you? This is top-secret clearance!"
The color drained from Julien's face. He whipped his head around to stare at Caddie. "You did this?"
She ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket.
"Answer me!" He grabbed both of her suitcase handles, blocking her path. "Do you have any idea what you've done? That code is the company's property!"
Caddie looked at his hands on her suitcases. Then at his face. She said one word: "Move."
Julien didn't move. His jaw tightened. "You're not leaving until we fix this."
She stepped around him. He lunged, trying to catch her arm. She was faster. She pulled the door open, dragged one suitcase through, then the other.
Julien stumbled after her, his hand reaching for the doorframe. "Caddie—wait. Please. Let's talk."
She turned, looked him dead in the eye, and slammed the door.
The heavy oak edge caught him across the forehead with a dull, solid crack. He reeled backward with a strangled cry, his hands flying to his face.
Caddie didn't look back. She was already walking down the hall, the wheels of her suitcases humming against the floor.
The first rays of dawn were breaking over the city when she stepped outside. She pulled out her phone and dialed Burrell's number.
"Uncle. I'm ready now."
