Chapter 67 The Weight of Zeroes
The sun rose over the Atlantic with a brutal, mocking brilliance. I hadn't slept; I had spent the entire night staring at the ceiling of the Sapphire Suite, the slip of paper tucked under my pillow like a jagged blade. Forty-eight hours. The clock was already eating away at the first day, and every tick felt like a heartbeat I couldn't afford to lose.
I dressed in a simple white linen dress, my movements robotic. I didn't tell Eliza. How could I? If I told her there was a check for a life-changing fortune sitting in my pocket, she would look at me and see a stranger. Or worse, she’d tell me to take it for her sake, and I wasn't ready to hear that logic yet.
"You look pale," Eliza noted as she brushed her hair. She seemed tired, her shoulders slumped. "Are you okay? What did the Ice Queen want last night?"
"Just a lecture on 'propriety,'" I lied, the taste of the words bitter in my mouth. "She wanted to make sure I knew my place."
"Well, her 'place' is terrifying," Eliza muttered. "Gavin texted. He apologized for last night. He said he was a jerk for not stepping in. He wants us to meet them for breakfast on the terrace."
"Are you going to go?" I asked, watching her carefully.
Eliza paused, her expression hardening. "I don't know. He watched me get humiliated, Mila. He sat there while Scarlett ruined my favorite thing and didn't say a word. A text doesn't fix that. But staying in this room feels like hiding, and I won't let them think they've chased me out."
I followed her down to the terrace, feeling like a ghost haunting my own life. The table was draped in white linen, set with silver that glinted painfully in the morning light. Nate was already there, seated at the head of the table. He looked up the moment I stepped onto the stone floor, his dark eyes searching mine with an intensity that made the check in my pocket feel like it was burning through the fabric.
"Morning," Nate said, his voice low. He pulled out the chair next to him—a gesture of public defiance against his mother. "Sit. You look like you haven't slept."
"I’m fine," I managed, sliding into the seat.
Across from us, Gavin was trying. Truly trying. He had a gift bag on the chair next to him, and he kept glancing at Eliza with a look that sat somewhere between guilt and desperation.
"Eliza, look," Gavin said, pushing a small box toward her. "I know the dress was vintage. I know it meant a lot. I’ve already called a restorer in London—they’re flying in tomorrow to see if they can save the silk. In the meantime... I got you this."
Eliza didn't reach for the box. She stared at it as if it were a trap. "Is this supposed to be the price of my silence, Gavin? Or just a way to make yourself feel better for being a coward on the beach?"
Gavin flinched, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. "It's not a bribe. It's an apology. I was wrong. I should have stood up to Bianca and the others. I’m... I’m not used to going against the grain here."
"Clearly," Eliza said, her voice dripping with a skepticism that made me proud. She didn't open the gift. She just picked up her fork. "But I suppose I can eat breakfast without throwing it at you. That's the best I can offer right now."
Gavin didn't look angry; he looked relieved. He started telling her about a hidden cove on the other side of the island, and slowly, the ice between them began to thaw. It wasn't forgiveness—not yet—but it was a bridge. Watching her, a cold realization settled in my stomach. Eliza was finally standing her ground. She was finding her voice in a world that tried to silence her.
If I took Alexandra’s deal, I would be dragging Eliza back to Queens today. I would be snatching away this moment of growth, this chance for her to see that she was worth more than a spoiled boy’s whim. I would be protecting her from the Salvatores, yes, but I would also be making her life smaller again.
"Mila?" Nate’s voice broke through my thoughts. He was leaning toward me, his hand resting on the table inches from mine. "You’re staring at your coffee like it’s a crime scene. Talk to me. Was it my mother? What did she say?"
"She said exactly what you’d expect, Nate," I said, forced to look him in the eye. It was agony. I could see the vulnerability from the dunes still lingering there. He was waiting for a signal, for me to acknowledge the moment we shared in the dark.
Instead, I looked at Alexandra. She was seated at the far end of the terrace, shielded by oversized sunglasses, sipping tea as she read the morning’s financial reports. She didn't look at me once, but I felt her presence like a weight in the air. She was the one holding the stopwatch, and I was the only one who could hear it ticking.
"We should go for a walk later," Nate suggested, his fingers brushing against the side of my hand. "Just us. Away from the house."
I pulled my hand back to reach for my water, the movement sharp and deliberate. "I don't think that's a good idea, Nate. We’re here as guests. We should probably stay where we’re supposed to be."
Nate’s expression shuttered, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he pulled back. "Right. The 'appropriate' guest behavior. I forgot."
The breakfast continued—Gavin’s cautious attempts at humor, Eliza’s guarded responses, and the suffocating silence between Nate and me. I sat there, paralyzed by a choice that felt less like a decision and more like a slow-motion execution. Every time I looked at Nate, I saw a future I wanted; every time I felt the check, I saw the security I needed. And as I watched my best friend finally hold her own against a boy like Gavin, I realized that whichever path I chose, I was going to lose a version of myself I was only just beginning to like.