Chapter 12: The Point of No Return (Part 1)

POV: Archer

The resignation letter felt like a lead weight in my hand, the crisp paper crinkling under the pressure of my grip.

I stormed out of my office, leaving the door swinging wide. I didn't care about the lingering stares from the interns or the hushed whispers that followed me through the glass-walled corridors of Kensington Tech. My vision was tunneled, focused entirely on one desk in the sea of workstations.

Sophie Marlowe didn't even look up when I came to a halt in front of her. The blue light of her monitor reflected in her glasses as her fingers danced across the keyboard with a rhythmic, irritating click.

To her, I was invisible. Or worse—a nuisance she’d already tuned out.

"Sophie," I barked, my voice cracking at the edges. "Where is Evelyn?"

The typing stopped. A heavy, deliberate silence settled between us. She kept her eyes fixed on the screen, her expression as cold as a Midtown winter.

"She’s gone, Archer. Far away."

"Far away? Her parents just got into the city, didn't they?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Sophie replied, her tone flat and dismissive. "Why don't you try calling her? Oh, wait. She blocked you, didn't she?"

She went back to her typing. The blatant disrespect sent a surge of heat through my chest. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed her wrist to force her attention.

Sophie jerked her arm back as if I were made of acid. She stood up, her chair screeching against the floor, creating a half-inch of guarded space between us. Her gaze was a serrated blade.

"Don't touch me."

I froze, my hands up in a silent plea for peace. "I’m sorry... I just... I need to see her, Sophie. Please. Just tell me where she is."

I dropped the resignation letter onto her desk like a white flag.

Sophie glanced at the paper, a flicker of genuine disappointment crossing her face before she masked it behind a wall of apathy. She sat back down, turning her shoulder to me.

"I'm busy, Archer."

"Sophie, please," I rasped, the desperation finally bleeding through. "I know I messed up. Just let me apologize. Let us end this the right way."

For the first time, she actually looked at me. The disgust in her eyes was visceral, a physical weight that made it hard to breathe.

"Honestly? You make me sick."

She took a sharp, shallow breath, her voice dropping to a whisper that cut deeper than a shout.

"She was so good to you. She cared so much, and you treated her like she was disposable."

I looked down at my shoes, my jaw tight enough to ache. "I know, Sophie. I know it’s broken. But please... just let me say goodbye."

Sophie leaned back, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She stared at me for what felt like an eternity, weighing my soul and finding it lacking. Finally, she checked her watch.

"JFK. Terminal 8. Her flight is at four-thirty."

Her eyes bored into mine one last time.

"That’s all you get. I’m not telling you where she’s going."

The air rushed back into my lungs. My eyes widened as I checked the clock on the wall. 3:10 p.m.

"There’s still time," I muttered.

I didn't wait for a reply. I turned on my heel and sprinted toward the elevators, my polished oxfords thudding against the marble floor with a frantic, desperate rhythm.

***

POV: Evelyn

The air in JFK was recycled and stale, carrying the faint, bitter scent of over-roasted espresso and jet fuel.

I sat tucked away in a corner of a terminal bistro, my oversized sunglasses hiding eyes that were still swollen and raw. My fingers were curled around a paper cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. Beside me, my blue hardshell suitcase stood like a loyal sentry, waiting for the signal to carry me away from the ruins of my life in New York.

I stared at the scratched surface of the table, the noise of the terminal—the rolling suitcases, the muffled announcements, the frantic chatter of travelers—feeling miles away.

My mind kept drifting back to the hours I’d spent in Sophie’s car, driving aimlessly through the city until I finally broke. I could still hear the tremor in my own voice when I admitted I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't look at Archer without seeing the ghost of another woman in his shadow.

"I'm drowning, Soph... I can't breathe here."

Sophie had listened with tears in her eyes, her hand squeezing mine. She told me that leaving wasn't running away—it was a rescue mission.

I’d been terrified of going back to the Hudson Valley. My parents would ask questions I wasn't ready to answer, and the quiet of the estate would only amplify the screaming in my head. I needed to disappear into a place where the sun was too bright for shadows.