Chapter 111 Back Home
The black Mercedes pulled up to the marble steps of the Midtown apartment building in the middle of the afternoon. The engine’s low purr faded into the ambient hum of traffic, and the door opened with a soft hiss. William Sterling stepped out, his silhouette framed by the polished glass doors. She slipped out to join him on the curb.
“Do you want me to come up with you?” William asked.
Sierra hesitated, feeling the weight of a dozen unspoken questions settle on her shoulders. She glanced up at the entrance of her building, the hallway beyond the glass entry a gaping maw of unknowns. The thought of walking in alone, of confronting the silence that had been waiting for her in the shadows, felt like stepping onto a stage without a script.
“I think I’ll be okay,” she said, surprising herself with the steadiness of her own voice. “But thank you.”
William smiled, a thin, practiced line that hid any hint of the protective fury that had lingered from her confession on the jet. “If you need anything, just say the word.” He reached out, his hand brushing hers one last time before he turned and slipped back into the car, the doors closing with a soft thud.
Sierra pushed open the heavy glass door of the lobby, and for a heartbeat, she expected to see the dim glow of a lamp and the silhouette of a man waiting. There was no one there. She remembered how she’d found the Scotsman waiting in her London flat. , an unspoken promise lingering in the air. A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding slipped out in a rush, her shoulders unfurling as the tension dissolved like mist.
It was silly to be worried, she told herself as she stepped onto the elevator.
Arriving at her floor, the top floor, she exited the elevator into a dimly lit entryway. Taking another deep breath, she used her key on the lock, pushed it open, and stepped inside. The scent of polished oak and faint perfume met her, wrapping around her like a familiar blanket. Her apartment was empty.
The news William had delivered whirled through her mind: Senior Partner at Sterling, Quinn & Spencer. The title had always been a distant summit, a glittering beacon she’d chased in boardrooms and late‑night strategy sessions. Now it lay in her palm, heavy and bright. The triumph of it was tempered by a fatigue she could not yet name.
The weight of the last several days was far too much to allow her to celebrate the milestone. She kicked off her shoes in her bedroom and entered the bathroom, the tiles cool under her bare feet. The faucet spurted out a steady stream of water, steam rising in white curls as she filled the tub. She returned to the dining room and poured a generous splash of red wine into a crystal glass, the liquid catching the light and turning the room a deep burgundy. After undressing, she slipped into the bath, the heat enveloping her like an embered blanket, the tension in her muscles loosening with each ripple.
For an hour or more, the water became a quiet sanctuary. She let her thoughts drift away. The water lapped against the porcelain, muffling the city’s incessant clatter beyond the walls. She allowed herself to be vulnerable, to feel the tears that still lingered at the corners of her eyes, to embrace the grief that clung to her like a second skin.
When she finally rose, the steam still clinging to the mirrors, she wrapped herself in a plush, white towel and padded to the bedroom. She slipped into a pair of high‑end silk pajamas, the fabric whispering against her skin, and slipped her feet into fluffy slippers that seemed to hug her soles like a lover’s embrace. The sensation was an instant comfort she hadn’t realized she craved.
She stalked toward the refrigerator, the soft humming of the appliance the only sound in the quiet apartment. Inside, the shelves were sparsely populated: a single block of moldy cheddar, a half‑emptied bottle of almond milk, a bag of frozen peas, a wilting head of lettuce, and a lone bottle of rosé that had gone untouched before she left. Her stomach growled as she stared at the contents as if they might conjure a feast from their meager offering.
A sigh escaped her lips. “I’ll just order something,” she muttered, returning to the bedroom and reaching for her phone on the nightstand. As she lifted it from the nightstand, the doorbell chimed; it seemed louder than it should have been.
The rhythm of her heart picked up its pace. The first, most primal thought that surged through her mind was that the Scotsman had discovered that she had survived the crash and hadn’t come to the ranch. She had disobeyed his order. How would he deal with that?
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse. She froze for a breath’s length, the line between anxiety and curiosity blurring. Then she forced herself to breathe evenly, letting the rational part of her take the reins. “It’s probably just one of the neighbors,” she whispered to herself.
She approached the front door as if it were somehow possessed. The peephole offered a narrow, circular view of the outside world. On the other side stood a young woman she knew almost as well as she knew herself.
Chloe.
Her appearance collided with the fact that she was supposed to be in London, finishing her own job of setting up the London branch office.
She opened the door, the steel hinge sighing as it moved. “Chloe?” she asked, voice tentative.
Chloe’s eyes widened with an exuberant surprise. “Sierra! Oh my god, you’re here…”
Sierra looked down at the key in her hand. She’d left a key with Chloe to tend to her apartment while she was away.
“You weren’t expecting me?” Sierra asked. She stepped aside, allowing Chloe to enter.
Chloe dropped her tote onto the entryway table and rushed straight into the living room, her breath a cascade of excitement. “I couldn’t wait to celebrate! I was planning on surprising you when you came home but you beat me to it. I heard about your promotion. Senior partner! That’s amazing! William called me last night, right after midnight in London. He told me I should catch the earliest flight possible to come celebrate with you. I booked the first flight out.”
Sierra’s mind raced. The timeline clicked into place in a way that both made sense and yet felt entirely surreal. William had called Chloe just after she had called him from the hospital in Buena Vista. William had said nothing about her promotion until they were on their way home, but he’d called Chloe. William had made it so that Chloe would be there with her to comfort her after the jet crash.
“I can’t believe it!” Chloe gushed. She watched Sierra, noticing the confusion on her face. Her tone changed in an instant. “You don’t seem very excited. What’s up?”
Sierra swallowed, feeling emotions she thought she’d gotten control over rushing on her.
“The jet crashed,” she began in a whisper. “I tried to save him. Tried to keep him warm until we were rescued, but…” She allowed the tears to flow as Chloe took hold of her hands.
“Oh my god, Sierra, are you okay?” Chloe asked, sliding close.
“Julian is dead,” she finally blurted out.