Chapter 51
Elise's POV
When my phone vibrated for the fourth time, I picked it up.
One deep breath.
Then I pressed the answer button.
"Hello."
My voice was flat. Even I was a little surprised—so a person really could manage to sound this calm at a time like this.
There was a moment of silence on the other end. A brief moment, but I heard it. That was Liam's one second of blankness when he hadn't expected my reaction.
Then his voice came through. Very tense. More tense than most times I'd heard him speak.
"Elise? Where are you?"
He didn't ask if I was okay. Didn't ask where I'd been these past days. Didn't ask if I'd been scared, hurt, or hiding somewhere crying alone after what happened that night.
He only asked where I was.
Just like every time he'd looked for me before. Not concern. Tracking.
I leaned against the edge of the workbench in the studio, using my other hand to spin a pen cap on the desk. The streetlights outside cast a dim yellow glow through the frosted glass windows.
"I'm at the tattoo shop," I said.
Another silence. This one lasted a bit longer.
"Which tattoo shop?" he asked.
His tone changed. Not softer—more careful. Like a hunter's wariness when discovering his prey hadn't fled in the expected direction.
"The usual place," I said. "Do you want to come?"
I didn't use a pleading tone. Didn't use a provocative one either. Just an ordinary, flat question. Like asking a friend if they wanted to come over for a drink.
The breathing on the other end changed. I could tell—Liam Sterling was nervous.
"Elise," his voice lowered. Not the commanding voice I was familiar with, not that tone of mocking banter. Something I'd never heard from his mouth before.
Almost pleading.
"Can you see me? Today. Right now. I have something to say to you."
My fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
Liam Sterling—heir to the Sterling family fortune, a man accustomed to commanding everyone since childhood—in the face of my silence, had softened his tone.
Not because he'd suddenly learned to respect my wishes.
Because he sensed it. Sensed something he couldn't name slipping through his fingers. And I was no longer that soft thing he could easily grasp.
"Okay," I said.
Just one word.
I didn't say "I want to see you." Didn't say "I've been waiting for you." Didn't give him any response he could interpret as "she still needs me."
I only said "okay."
Then hung up.
When I set the phone back on the desk, the screen still glowed with the call-ended notification.
I stared at that light for a few seconds, then got up and splashed cold water on my face.
I knew Liam would come looking for me sooner or later, so I deliberately waited for him at the shop.
I turned on the lights and pulled up the heavy rolling door.
Liam stood just outside, his hair somewhat disheveled, faint shadows under his eyes.
For the young master of the Sterling family, this was somewhat haggard.
When he pushed through the door, he brought in a gust of night wind.
May evenings weren't exactly cold, but I still instinctively pulled the collar of my work shirt tighter.
Liam stood in the doorway, not immediately coming in.
He was looking at me. That look I knew too well—he'd looked at me this way since the first day we were together. Like taking inventory of something that belonged to him to check for damage. Like confirming whether a decorative object was still in its original position.
"You've lost weight," he said.
This was his opening line. Like the opening move all controllers use—starting with the body, making you feel he cares about you.
I didn't respond.
Liam walked in and sat down in the chair across from the workbench.
The client's seat.
He'd never sat in that position before—when he came before, he'd always walk directly behind me, hand on my shoulder, or lean against a nearby shelf watching me work.
Today he sat across from me.
This subtle change didn't escape my notice. He was testing.
"Elise." He spoke, his voice lower than on the phone. "I know you don't want to hear anything I say right now. But some things—"
"Go ahead," I interrupted him. Not because I wanted to listen, but because I didn't want him to finish speaking in that preamble-heavy, self-moving tone.
Liam froze for a moment.
"There are some things I never told you," he said. "I'm very sorry about what happened that day, but I hope you can hear me out—"
An engine sound came from the street outside.
Not an ordinary engine sound. Low, deep, like the breathing of a beast. I wouldn't mistake it from the first time I heard it.
A Maybach.
Liam heard it too. He turned to look outside.
A beam of light swept across the tattoo shop's frosted glass window. Then the engine sound stopped.
The sound of a car door opening and closing. Footsteps. Unhurried, measured footsteps on the asphalt pavement. Step by step, coming this way.
Liam stood up. His expression shifted from discomfort to alertness.
I was even more nervous than he was.
I knew who owned that Maybach, and I knew his relationship with Liam. But I couldn't imagine what would happen when they met under these circumstances.
The door was pushed open.
Victor Sterling stood in the doorway.
He wore a dark gray shirt, sleeves rolled to mid-forearm, revealing the smooth contours of his lower arms. No tie, top button undone at the collar. He looked like he'd just stopped by from somewhere—not like he'd dressed carefully for a direct confrontation.
His gaze fell on Liam first. Stayed for two seconds. Then turned to me.
The corner of his mouth moved. Not a smile. More like a confirmation—confirming I was here, confirming everything was happening as he'd anticipated.
"Looks like I've come at a bad time," he said.
---
Liam's expression changed.
Something deeper surfaced from the depths of his eyes—confusion, shock, then some emotion rapidly fermenting.
I could see the anger lurking in Liam's gaze. By comparison, Victor's posture appeared much more composed.
"Liam." Victor nodded, his tone like greeting a not-too-familiar junior. "Long time no see."
Long time no see.
When those words fell, the air in the entire room changed.
Liam's Adam's apple rolled. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
"Uncle?" Liam's voice seemed squeezed from between his teeth.
"You—" Liam took a step forward, finger pointing at Victor, his hand trembling, as if completely unable to believe what he was seeing. "In the hallway that night—that was you?"
Victor didn't answer. Didn't deny it either.
But the answer was already written in his slightly provocative gaze.