The paramedics arrived—but they stopped the moment they saw the car.
No rush. No urgency.
Just confirmation.
Eva felt her stomach drop.
They moved differently after that.
No longer trying to save him.
Only documenting him.
Eva stood behind the yellow tape, the wind off the harbor cutting through her silk pajamas like glass.
She didn't feel cold.
She didn't feel anything.
Liam stood beside her.
But not close.
Not anymore.
Exactly six inches.
A distance so small no one else would notice.
A distance she felt like a fracture.
He was on his phone.
Voice low. Flat. Controlled.
Not once did he look at the car.
Not once did he look at her.
As if he already knew what was inside.
"My father."
The words echoed in her mind.
Liam's father.
Daniel Carter.
The man who had funded her first gallery.
The man her father trusted.
A silver Volvo screeched to a stop.
Door flung open—
"Mia!"
Mia didn't wait.
Didn't ask.
She ducked under the tape and ran straight into Eva.
"I'm here—I'm here—I'm here—"
Her voice cracked.
Warm. Human. Alive.
The first real thing in the last hour.
Eva almost broke.
Almost.
Mia pulled back, scanning the scene—
The lights. The car. The officers.
Then—
Liam.
Her expression changed instantly.
"What the hell happened?"
A beat.
"Why is he here?"
Liam ended his call.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He slid the phone into his pocket.
Didn't take his hands out.
He looked at Mia.
Blank.
Empty.
Calculated.
"Take her home."
No hesitation.
No softness.
Like he was issuing instructions.
"Excuse me?" Mia snapped. "She's not going back to an empty apartment—"
"Take her to your place, then."
Liam cut her off.
Clean. Precise.
Final.
His eyes moved—finally—to Eva.
Just for a second.
Her shoulders.
Shivering.
His jaw tightened.
But he didn't touch her.
"Don't speak to the press. Don't answer unknown numbers."
A pause.
"I'll handle Davis."
Not we.
I.
"Liam…"
Eva's voice felt like it belonged to someone else.
Say it's not true.
Say something.
Anything.
He didn't.
A single nod.
He turned—and walked away.
The trench coat moved with the wind.
He didn't look back. Not once.
Eva watched him merge into the flashing lights.
He hadn't just chosen a side.
He was already managing the fallout.
And she was just a variable he had left behind.
"Come on," Mia said softly.
This time, Eva let herself be led.
The car was warm.
Too warm.
The docklands disappeared behind them.
Lights fading.
Sirens gone.
Her father stayed there.
So did Liam.
Eva closed her eyes.
Waited for tears.
For collapse.
For something.
Nothing came.
Instead—
something else did.
Order.
Pattern.
Analysis.
Eva Bennett didn't just see things.
She evaluated them.
Deconstructed them.
Found what didn't belong.
And something—hadn't belonged.
Like a clumsy brushstroke on a masterpiece.
Her father. In the driver's seat.
The seatbelt clicked in.
But the engine was off.
The keys—on the passenger seat.
The scene was staged.
It was a forgery.
Eva's eyes snapped open.
No.
That wasn't right.
He never wore his seatbelt before starting the car.
Not ever.
So who—
"Eva?"
Mia's voice cut through.
Soft. Careful.
"You okay? Do you need anything?"
"No."
The word came out steady.
Flat.
Not broken.
Cold.
Mia tightened her grip on the wheel.
"I shouldn't ask, but… what did the police say?"
Eva stared out at the city.
Empty streets.
Closed lights.
A world still asleep.
"They said it wasn't a heart attack."
A pause.
"They have footage."
Mia inhaled sharply.
"Of who?"
Eva didn't answer immediately.
"Someone got into the car."
Another pause.
"Right before he died."
"Who?"
Eva turned.
Looked straight at her.
"Liam's father."
The car swerved.
Mia corrected it instantly.
"Daniel? That's—no. That's insane. Why would he—"
She stopped.
Because Eva wasn't reacting.
She was thinking.
"I don't know what I believe," Eva said quietly.
But her mind was already moving.
Faster.
Sharper.
Timeline.
Behavior.
Details.
Mia hesitated.
"Was your dad acting strange lately?"
A click.
Memory.
Afternoon.
Study room.
Whiskey glass at 2 PM.
Unfinished sentence.
Her father hadn't looked at her.
"Sometimes, Evie…"
His voice echoed.
Heavy.
Wrong.
"The most dangerous fakes…"
A pause.
"…aren't in galleries."
Eva's breath caught.
"They're the ones we've been living with."
Silence filled the car.
He hadn't been talking about art.
He had been warning her.
Eva turned slowly.
Her eyes no longer searching.
No longer grieving.
Understanding.
"Mia…"
Her voice dropped.
Sharp as glass.
"He wasn't surprised."
A beat.
"He was waiting for it."