Chapter 15 - THE FORTY-NINTH FLOOR
By the time we reached Manhattan, police had closed the block.
Employees crowded behind barricades.
Fire trucks surrounded NexusCore Tower.
Smoke had not appeared.
Yet.
Matthew was alone upstairs.
He had entered using an old mechanical override key nobody knew he possessed.
Police negotiators called repeatedly.
He refused to answer them.
He answered me.
My phone rang.
Detective Ellis stared at the number.
“Speaker.”
I answered.
“Matthew.”
His breathing was uneven.
“You came.”
“I'm outside.”
“Come upstairs.”
“No.”
A bitter laugh.
“Still taking orders from your father.”
“This is my decision.”
“You stole my company.”
I looked up at the forty-ninth floor.
“No.”
“You tried to steal ours.”
“Ours?”
He laughed again.
“You disappeared for seven years.”
“You wanted nothing to do with NexusCore.”
“You made sure I believed I had nothing left there.”
“You abandoned it.”
“I trusted you.”
Silence.
For once, he had no quick answer.
Then his voice softened.
“Do you remember our first office?”
“Yes.”
“You painted the walls yourself.”
“Yes.”
“We had four desks.”
“Three.”
Another silence.
He had forgotten.
I had not.
“We were happy.”
Matthew whispered.
“We were struggling.”
I answered.
“I thought struggle meant we were building something together.”
“We did build it.”
“Then you decided everything had to belong only to you.”
His breathing became harsher.
“You don't understand what it takes to keep something like this alive.”
“Eighty-four million in shell companies?”
“You think Victor gave me a choice?”
“Yes.”
My answer came immediately.
“Everybody has choices.”
“You made yours twenty times.”
The line went silent.
Detective Ellis watched me.
A negotiator signaled to continue.
“Matthew.”
“What?”
“Put down whatever you brought upstairs.”
“You want me arrested.”
“Yes.”
He laughed.
At least I was not lying.
“I won't survive prison.”
“That is not my decision.”
“You would really let them take me?”
I looked at my bandaged wrist.
“You left me bleeding on a marble floor.”
His voice cracked.
“Clare.”
“No.”
I had finally learned the power of that word.
“No.”
“You don't get to use my love as an escape route.”
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then a fire alarm began screaming inside the building.
The crowd outside reacted.
Firefighters moved.
My heart stopped.
“Matthew?”
He whispered.
“Goodbye.”
The call ended.
“Move.”
Detective Ellis pulled me backward.
Firefighters entered.
Police followed.
Smoke appeared behind the forty-ninth-floor windows.
My father gripped my shoulders.
I could not feel the injuries.
I watched the building where I had once spent nights assembling pitch decks fill with smoke.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Then someone emerged.
A firefighter.
Another.
Two officers.
Then Matthew.
Alive.
Handcuffed.
His suit blackened with soot.
Blood ran from a cut over his eyebrow.
He had started a small fire near the records room.
Sprinklers contained most of it.
Police reached him before he could spread the gasoline.
Matthew saw me behind the barricade.
He stopped.
For one second, nobody else existed.
He looked broken.
Small.
Almost unrecognizable.
“Clare!”
An officer pushed him forward.
“Clare!”
I did not answer.
He struggled once.
Then twice.
“Tell them!”
I stood still.
“Tell them I wouldn't hurt anyone!”
My father moved beside me.
I raised a hand.
He stopped.
I looked directly at Matthew.
“You already did.”
The officers placed him inside the vehicle.
May you like
The door slammed.
And for the first time in seven years, I watched Matthew Hayes leave without wondering when he would come back.
