Aunt Diana said from the doorway, "You really don't have to take everything you own.
I folded another sweater into the bag and remarked, "I know how long a year is," without looking up.
She became quiet. I continued folding as soon as I heard her walk across the room and sit on the edge of my bed, fearing that if I stopped, I might say something that none of us was prepared for.
Around four in the morning, I had made up my mind not to respond. I was going to enter with my mouth shut and my eyes open, watch, and wait to see for myself. There was no other option.
Alexander Kane's name appeared on a note my father had written for me. The sender of that message had warned me to be wary of the same man. Both can't be correct. Before I could determine which of them was lying, I had to enter the penthouse.
"Soso," I was stopped by Aunt Diana's touch on my arm. I glanced up. She had allowed her eyes to get wet, which was something she never did. "I need you to know that if there had been any other way " "I know," I said.
"I would have filled in for you. That's what you know.
"I know that too."
I closed the suitcase, Then Sat next to her. Allow her to draw me in once more with her warmth, scent, and unique comfort of the person who had been my home since I was nine years old. Last night in the dark, I sobbed. Now I was not going to cry. I put my face on her shoulder, took a deep breath, and waited precisely thirty seconds before releasing myself.
"One year," I said. "For twelve months. When I return, everything remains in its original location."Everything will be present," she said. "I promise."
I came down the front steps to find the car outside. Long, black, and pricey in a subtle way that didn't require self-promotion. The driver silently took my bag. I entered without turning around since I wouldn't leave if I did.
As we drove away, I looked out the window at Queens. The business on the corner. The park where I picked up my cycling skills. Before his sickness, my father worked at this building. I had no idea that I was memorising every common landmark in the same manner that you memorise items you are terrified of losing.
Kane Tower gave the impression that everything around it was apologising.
I felt the full weight of everything I was not as I stood on the pavement with my bag and looked up at all the glass that reached the sky. unwealthy. ineffective. Not the type of person who should be in a structure like this. That was not going to be changed by my finest blazer, my styled hair, or my naturally occurring curls, which had cooperated this morning.
However, I straightened my shoulders and entered. There was marble in the lobby, quiet, and the coolness of good air conditioning. I had been anticipating, which was almost more uncomfortable than being questioned, and no one stopped me. I proceeded to the penthouse floor through a private lift. When the doors opened, I stepped out and came to a stop.
Glass covers three walls. Manhattan as a whole is underneath, in all directions. There isn't a single warm item in the living room, which is the size of our entire Queens flat, with dark furniture and simple lines. Not a picture. Clutter-free. There was no indication that anyone had lived here, only that someone on a path elsewhere had used it.
I had never seen a more exquisite room than this one. It was also the loneliest.
That caused my chest to open up in a way I wasn't expecting. I didn't know him well enough to feel sympathy for him—something more like a recognition. Even if one were to construct all of this, they would remain completely inaccessible. I had been doing a smaller version of this for two years.
From a side hallway, a woman appeared. mid-40s. tidy grey gown. serene face.
"Miss Reed. I'm the home manager, Claire. I will lead you to your room.
The east hallway led to my room. Huge, peaceful, with a view overlooking the city and a wardrobe already filled with items in my size that I hadn't selected. The tags are still attached. It was all chosen by someone who described me and made decisions based on that description.
Away from his room. down an entirely different corridor.
I let out a slow breath. Good.
"Claire said, "Mr Kane will return home by seven. "Dinner arrangements are yours this evening."
She walked me through the remaining areas, including the emergency contacts, the kitchen, and the home schedule. I listened and nodded, and once she was gone, I sat on the edge of that huge, strange bed and stared out the window for a while.
Then, to keep it from breaking, I reached into my backpack and unfolded the picture I had tucked between two shirts. With his glasses on and his back to the camera, my father is seated at his desk. It was a typical day that I didn't really recall till later.
I placed it beside the lamp on the nightstand.
I whispered to him, "I'm here." "I'll investigate what happened. I promise you.
He kept on looking at the camera as he always did.
She showed me the rest of the kitchen, the household schedule, and the emergency contacts. I listened and nodded, and once she was gone, I sat on the edge of that huge, strange bed and stared out the window for a while.
I took my time unpacking and used what I had to personalise the room. Then, since cooking rice and stew was the only thing I could do in a strange environment while still feeling like myself, I headed to the kitchen.
At ten past seven, he returned home.
He stopped in the kitchen doorway and turned to face me as I stood at his stove, holding a wooden spoon. His expression changed too quickly for me to identify; it might have been a surprise or something more subdued.
"The glasses," he said, "are the second cabinet from the left."
For twenty minutes, I had been opening every incorrect one. "Thank you."
He set his backpack on the counter and looked at the pot. Then he opened a cabinet and set two bowls on its surface without a word.
Two. Not one.
I looked at the bowls, then at him. He was already looking at his phone, totally unbothered, as if dining with the woman he had agreed to marry was just another typical Tuesday.
Perhaps it was for him. I was unaware at the time.
At the counter, we ate. Not the dining table, which was excessively big and formal for two strangers. The counter felt more sincere. He continued eating without remarking on the food, which I took as a positive sign, since he did not stop. He placed his dish in the sink after he was done.
"Thank you," he said. Simple. Direct. Like he meant it.
"You're welcome." I paused. "Goodnight, Mr Kane."
"Alexander." He gave me a steady look. "We will be here for a full year. Mr Kane will quickly become really strange.
I nearly smiled. "Alexander, good night.
After giving one nod, he moved down the hallway. The door to his bedroom shut.
I cleaned both bowls. stood at the sink and peered through the glass at the lit city. Two bowls. Thank you, good night. little stuff. little details that were simple to interpret excessively.
I had no intention of reading too much into them.
After drying my hands and turning off the kitchen light, I made my way back to my room through the east corridor.
I noticed it at that point. the door at the end of the corridor. thick, black wood. There was only a smooth panel on the wall beside it that blinked a steady, faint blue; there was no handle on the outside. During the tour, Claire had passed it without pausing or showing it. Not mentioned and not clarified.
I stopped.
There was a handle on every other door in this penthouse. I had been shown every other room. I had hardly noticed that this one had been skipped.
Almost.
I stared at it.
With my father's note folded in my pocket, the blue panel blinking slowly and patiently, and the city sparkling outside the windows, I stood in the silent corridor for a long time.
I went to my room after that. Take a seat. stared up at the ceiling.
I was being paranoid, I told myself. I thought that it was most likely a storage closet, a server room or something entirely unremarkable that Claire had just failed to mention.
For a long time, I told myself that.
However, there is a problem with locked doors.
Locking them is only necessary if there is something valuable to hide behind them.
And I was beginning to believe that the most dangerous things in this penthouse, this marriage, and everything I came across were precisely the ones that no one had considered bringing up.