My birthday dinner was at a private room on the top floor of the Battery hotel.
I hadn't invited Sterling.
He came anyway.
Midway through dinner, a Thorne assistant rolled a nine-tier croquembouche into the room.
The room stopped talking.
Sterling was behind the cake. He was holding a dozen red roses in a glass cylinder. The kind a corporate florist delivers.
His arrival made the air go strange.
Someone murmured: Is he here to make peace.
Doesn't look like he's let go.
God, Avery — she got Sterling Thorne to break.
I held my flute. I didn't speak.
Sterling crossed the room.
I want to make this up to you.
I asked: Make what up.
Every birthday I missed.
He looked at me. His voice nearly cracked.
From now on, every year. With you.
For ninety-nine loops, I had waited to hear him say this.
I had waited so long that by the time he said it, it sounded like a check that had been refused at three different banks.
I set my flute down.
Sterling. Do you believe that all you have to do is turn around, and I'll be standing where you left me.
His face whitened.
That isn't what I —
His chief of staff, Devon Marsh, jumped in from the door.
Ms. Wynn. Mr. Thorne hasn't slept in three days putting tonight together for you. The least you could do is —
The room went quiet.
Sterling, low: Devon. Shut up.
Devon was not quite finished. Mr. Thorne is bringing himself out of an upper-GI bleed for this. He learned to bake from a pastry class for you. There are bandages all over his hands. You used to be the first person to worry about him. What happened —
I smiled.
So very neat.
One apology, with an extra layer of grievance staked into it.
He hurt his hand. I am supposed to be honored.
I looked at him.
What's your name.
He straightened. Devon Marsh.
I nodded. I said to Maren: Tell Thorne Holdings: as of today, every Wynn Capital engagement that involves Devon Marsh is on indefinite hold.
Devon went red. On what grounds.
I looked at him.
Because I'm the principal.
Sterling cut in immediately. I will replace him.
I lifted my eyes.
And the cake. Roll it out.
His voice tightened. Avery.
I told him: I'm allergic to cakes baked by murderers.
The room was a graveyard.
Sterling's pupils contracted to pinpoints.
Adrian had moved up to my elbow. He laid two fingers around my wrist, very lightly.
If you're tired, you can go inside.
I didn't pull away.
Sterling stared at Adrian's hand. Something dark started behind his eyes.
The System spoke. Male Lead Affection Meter at seventy-nine.
After dinner, Sterling was waiting in the hall outside the lounge.
Adrian was seeing the last of the guests down. Maren was on the phone with a Page Six editor.
The corridor was empty except for us.
Sterling started low.
Why do you keep saying I killed you.
I looked at him.
Because you did.
He pressed the heel of his hand into his eyebrow as if he had a migraine.
I did not.
Not now.
I told him: That doesn't mean you didn't.
His head came up.
Before.
The System started flashing.
I had had enough of it. Quiet.
The System went silent for a second and shrank back, looking, in some interior way, hurt.
Sterling thought I was talking to him.
He'd lost his last layer of color.
Avery. If I — if I did anything to you, tell me.
I smiled.
Tell you, and then watch you apologize.
He whispered: I'll make it right.
You can't.
I closed the distance and laid my palm flat over the place on his chest where the seam of his shirt met his sternum.
His body locked.
Has this been punched through with a knife.
I moved my hand down to his rib.
Have these been broken.
I lifted two fingers to the side of his throat.
Has water gone into your lungs and stopped you from speaking. Have you tried that.
His breathing came apart.
Avery —
I pulled my hand back.
You haven't. So you don't get to understand.
He grabbed both my arms above the elbow.
Then let me understand.
The corridor lights flickered.
The System spoke in a flat new voice. Male Lead has volunteered to receive pain. Secondary mission unlocked early.
My eyes moved.
Sterling felt something happening too.
He brought a hand to his sternum. The blood went out of his face.
His legs went, and he went down to the marble.
The System: Pain replay engaged. Death one. Drowning at sea.
His pupils blew wide.
He was still in the corridor, but he had been dropped underwater somewhere I couldn't see.
He clawed at his own throat. Cords stood up in the back of his neck.
I crouched in front of him.
Does it hurt.
He couldn't speak.
I touched his hair, very lightly.
Don't worry.
It's only the first one.
The replay lasted thirty seconds.
Sterling came back to himself with his shirt soaked through. He could not get off the marble.
I had hotel security carry him to the lounge. The hotel doctor came down and worked through him with a tablet.
Indicators clean. Heart rate steady.
When Adrian came back in, Sterling was on the sofa, looking like he had been pulled out of cold water. His eyes were empty.
Adrian looked at me.
What happened.
I said: He wanted to know what my life was like.
Adrian didn't push. He had a glass of warm water sent over.
Sterling came back to enough of himself to speak.
Was that real.
I sat down across from him.
You tell me.
His hands were shaking.
I watched myself push you over.
A small place near my sternum tightened. Not pain — more like an old scar getting pressed.
Sterling lifted his face. His eyes were red enough to scare a stranger.
Why.
I smiled.
You're asking me that.
The three words seemed to skewer him. A small, suppressed sound came out of his throat.
That wasn't me.
I nodded.
That's what you always say.
After the 8th loop, he had held my body and said it wasn't what he had wanted.
After the 24th, he had stood in the rain at a crash site and said there was nothing he could do.
After the 59th, he had administered the injection himself, and said I would suffer worse if I woke up.
There was always a reason.
It was always me who died.
Sterling stood up suddenly. He took two unsteady steps toward me.
Adrian moved in his way.
Mr. Thorne. Stay back.
Sterling stopped two paces out.
Let me see one more.
The System spoke softly. Male Lead Affection Meter at eighty-four. Repeated replays may accelerate psychiatric decompensation.
I asked: Are you sure.
His voice was nearly gone.
Yes.
Before I could answer, the door to the lounge crashed open.
Eleanor Thorne walked in with two staff behind her.
She looked at Sterling and lost the last of her composure.
Avery Wynn. What have you done to him.
I sat back.
Mrs. Thorne. Your grandson volunteered.
Eleanor raised her hand to slap me.
Adrian caught her wrist mid-arc.
Mrs. Thorne. Please.
She turned the color of cement.
What are you, exactly, that you think you can lay a hand on me.
Adrian's voice was mild. I'm the man Avery Wynn is considering marrying.
Sterling's head came up.
The atmosphere in the room dropped twenty degrees.
Adrian's sentence did not just stop Sterling.
It also stopped me, by a fraction.
Eleanor laughed once, short.
Considering marrying. Avery, you've just broken off our engagement, and you're already auditioning the next one.
Adrian moved in front of me before I could answer.
She doesn't owe anyone an audition.
Whom she chooses, when she chooses, is hers.
He said it quietly. It went deeper than defense.
Sterling stared at him. Something at the back of his eyes was very dark.
She will not marry you.
Adrian gave the faintest smile.
Mr. Thorne. From what position are you saying that.
Sterling had no answer.
Eleanor cut in. Sterling. Open your eyes. She is leveraging the fact that you love her. She brought another man here to provoke you.
For ninety-nine loops, Eleanor had made everything I felt into a strategy.
When I stepped in front of a knife for Sterling, she had said I was scheming for sympathy.
When I was on a fever drip after, she had said I was performing.
When I died, she had said the funeral was bad for the family's reputation.
I stood up and walked over to her.
Half of that is correct.
She paused.
I smiled.
I am leveraging the fact that he loves me.
Sterling stopped breathing.
But it's not to provoke him.
I turned my head and looked at him.
It's to make him pay.
Eleanor frowned. You are talking like a madwoman.
I took out my phone. I played a recording.
It was Hollis Wynn's deposition.
Eleanor Thorne approached me with a nominee-trust scheme. She said if I signed off, she would arrange for Avery to marry into the Thorne family. Later she pressed me to delay the will so Avery would not come into her inheritance early —
Eleanor went chalk-white.
Sterling looked at her.
Grandmother.
Eleanor flinched. Sterling. She is twisting it. Don't listen to her —
I cut the recording.
Mrs. Thorne. You never intended for me to be a member of this family.
You wanted my mother's money to plug the hole in your balance sheet.
Sterling's voice came out very cold.
Is that true.
Eleanor's jaw locked.
I did it for this family!
That admission was worth more than every document.
Sterling closed his eyes.
The System said softly: Male Lead guilt indicator spiking. Affection Meter at ninety.