Chapter 5
1149 Words
The elevator hummed softly as it climbed, its mirrored doors throwing back a faint reflection of Eliana’s face, the face of the woman she was becoming. Each passing floor made her heartbeat louder.
Before Dalia could follow, a firm voice cut through the air behind them.
“Ms. Montrose.”
They both turned. A tall man in a navy suit stood a few steps away silver threaded his dark hair; his suit carried the quiet authority of old money.
Stepping forward with a smile that was both warm and measuring. “Arthur Graham. Your grandfather spoke of you often.”
“It’s been far too long,” he said, extending a hand.”
Eliana accepted his handshake. “He used to say you kept this place running.”
Mr. Graham’s laugh was soft. “Your grandfather kept us all in line. I’m only trying to honor that.”
His gaze moved past her to where Dalia lingered a few steps behind, clutching her purse strap. “You don’t mind if I borrow Eliana for a few minutes, do you?”
“Of course not,” Dalia replied, a little too quickly.
Arthur’s eyes flicked briefly to Dalia before returning to Eliana. “If you’re free, I’d like to have a word in my office. Just to get you up to speed on how things have been running since your grandfather passed.”
“Of course,” Eliana said, warmth creeping into her voice. She turned to Dalia with a polite nod. “We’ll catch up later?”
Dalia’s jaw worked before her lips found another perfect smile. “Sure. Later.”
As Eliana followed Mr. Graham down the hall, she could feel Dalia’s gaze burning into her back.
Eliana followed Graham through the glass corridor. Offices opened on either side, phones rang, keyboards cluttered, voices low and serious. Her grandfather’s portrait hung at the end of the hall. The sight of it tightened her throat.
“He’d be proud to see you here,” Graham said quietly. “This company still carries his fingerprints. We could use more of his blood.”
“I hope I can live up to that,” she managed to say.
When the meeting ended an hour later, by the time she stepped out of Montrose tower her head buzzed with numbers, board names and a dizzy awareness that doors once closed to her might finally be opening. Yet she couldn't keep Dalia’s lingering smile off her head, it made her pulse hammer in her ears.
Outside, London air was sharp and cold. She pulled her coat tighter, realizing how long it had been since she’d breathed air that didn’t smell like antiseptic or grief. Her phone buzzed, Tania’s name lighting the screen. “Still up for coffee?”
Eliana let out a small breath “On my way,” she texted back.
The café smelled of roasted beans, the city noise softened into hums of traffic. Warm light spilled through the windows, painting gold across the wooden tables.
Tania waved from a corner booth, eyes wide with something between shock and joy. Eliana hesitated before sitting, unsure if she deserved that kind of welcome.
“Look at you,” Tania said as Eliana slid into the seat opposite. “You look like you finally slept.”
Eliana laughed under her breath. “A little, Hospital beds aren’t exactly restful.”
For a while they talked easily about old classmates, office gossip, the kind of ordinary chatter Eliana hadn’t realized she’d missed. Then Tania leaned forward, lowering her voice.
“So… you really left him.”
“I did.”
“Good.” Tania’s tone softened.
“You always used to shine before he came along. Now you look a bit cold like all those snobbish Madams from 1880." Tania said as she burst into fits of laughter.
This totally caught Eliana off guard. “I’m trying to find that girl again.”
“You will,” Tania said, smiling. “You always land on your feet.”
Eliana smiled back, letting the warmth settle in her chest. The smell of coffee, the low hum of conversation, the clatter of cups it all felt like life returning.
The door chimed behind her. A gust of cold air brushed the back of her neck. Eliana turned instinctively.
A man had just stepped inside. He ran a hand through his hair, and removed his coat. For a heartbeat their eyes met across the room.
Dark hair, broad shoulders, a stillness about him that drew the eye. He wasn’t staring, not directly. But something in the way he glanced her way, almost protective, unsettled her. Why does he look so familiar?
Later, she looked up, the man grabbed his coffee, then turned toward the door.
Outside, the man in the coat paused at the curb as if deciding whether to leave. Then he looked over his shoulder, straight toward her window. Their eyes met one last time. This time, there was no doubt in his expression. He knew her.
She quickly looked down, telling herself she was imagining it. He was just another customer. Still, her pulse fluttered, inexplicably aware of him.
“Eliana?” Tania’s voice yanked her back. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Eliana said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”
“Eliana?” Tania’s hand brushed hers. “You’ve gone pale.”
Eliana swallowed hard. “I’m fine,” she whispered, but her voice trembled.
She reached for her mug, and something shifted an unease too small to name at first. A sound, a scrape of leather on tile. Her gaze drifted down.
Beneath the small round table, two shoes rested in the glow from the hanging lamp white heels, pointed and glossy. The exact shade that had burned into her memory the night she’d fallen down the stairs.
Her breath caught. Heat drained from her face. The café noise dulled to a distant hum.
No it couldn’t be. White heels were everywhere, she told herself. It's a coincidence, just a coincidence.
Still, her fingers tightened around the mug until the ceramic bit into her palms. She forced herself to look up.
Tania was mid-sentence, laughing about something Eliana hadn’t heard. Her friend’s smile was genuine, her eyes kind. But Eliana’s pulse thundered anyway, she couldn’t look away from the shoes. Breathe, she told herself.
She looked back at Tania, then down at the table again. The shoes were still there, white and spotless, crossed neatly at the ankles. The sight made her skin crawl. She felt the air change heavier, colder.
“Where did you get those heels from?” Gathering all the strength in her, Eliana managed to ask.
“They’re mine” she re
plied nonchalantly giving a careless shrug but her eyes gave her away. It held a flicker of triumph.
- Writer
