He was gone when she woke up.
No note. No goodbye. Just a half-folded blanket on the couch and silence where his warmth used to be. The sun had barely started its rise, but Emery felt the cold long before she slipped out of bed. His absence spread through the lake house like a shadow.
She found her phone beside the nightstand, checked it. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing from Beckett.
Her chest ached, but she swallowed the disappointment and got dressed. The drive back into the city felt longer than usual. She didn't blast music like she normally would. She let the silence settle in. Let it echo. Let it cut.
By the time she reached her apartment, her phone buzzed. Her stomach flipped. Then dropped.
Grayson: Dinner tonight. Media photos. Don't be late.
Of course.
Later that evening, they sat across from each other in a five-star restaurant while cameras clicked and wine flowed. Grayson leaned over and kissed her cheek for the flash. She didn't flinch. But she didn't smile, either.
Her heart wasn't in the room.
It was on a dock.
With a man who kissed her like she was the only real thing in a world of glass.
When she finally saw Beckett again, it was at a security briefing in the Holdings boardroom. He wore his standard black-on-black, spoke in clipped tones, and never once looked her way.
She told herself it didn't matter.
But when their eyes finally did meet - just for a moment - the pain on his face mirrored her own.
And then he looked away.
As if it never happened at all.
The ache that had dulled into a quiet throb roared back to life. Emery forced herself to breathe, to move, to act as though nothing had changed. But inside, she was unraveling. Each second felt like a thread pulled loose.
And the man who once held her together...
Was now pretending he'd never touched her at all.