All Chapters of Loving Mr. Vance in Silence: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Emma woke up on Nick's shoulder.She didn't remember falling asleep. One moment they had been talking — about the basement, about the years between, about nothing and everything — and the next moment, her eyes had closed and the world had gone soft.Now it was morning.Gray light filtered through the small window, falling across the brick wall. Nick's sweater was still wrapped around her. His arm was around her shoulders. His head was tilted back against the couch, his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.Emma didn't move.She watched him sleep.The scar on his jaw. The dark lashes against his pale skin. The way his hand had curled around her shoulder, even in unconsciousness, like he was afraid she would disappear.Twenty-five years, she thought. He waited twenty-five years for me.She reached up and touched his face — gently, barely grazing his skin.His eyes opened.He looked at her. For a moment, he seemed confused — like he didn't know where

Monday morning arrived like a door closing.Emma woke before the sun. She lay still for a moment, disoriented — the sheets were too soft, the pillow too firm, the arm across her waist too heavy. Then she remembered.Nick's bedroom. Nick's bed. Nick's arm.She turned her head. He was still asleep, his face relaxed, his dark hair falling across his forehead. He looked younger in sleep — less like the Vice Chairman of Vance Corporation and more like the boy from the basement.Emma watched him for a long time.Today is my last day.The thought landed like a stone in her chest. She had been counting down to this day for weeks — dreaming of it, planning for it, rehearsing her goodbye. But now that it was here, she didn't feel ready.She didn't feel ready at all.Nick's eyes opened.He looked at her. He smiled — a sleepy, unguarded smile that made her heart ache."Hi," he said."Hi.""You're still here.""I'm still here.""Today—""I know." She pressed her fingers to his lips. "Don't. Not ye

Nicholas Vance had never been afraid of silence.He had spent twenty-five years surrounded by it — the silence of the basement, the silence of his empty penthouse, the silence of a life lived behind glass walls. Silence was familiar. Silence was safe.But tonight, the silence was unbearable.---The car dropped him at his building at 6:30 PM.Nick stood on the sidewalk for a long moment, watching the traffic, the people, the city moving on without him. Emma's building was twelve blocks away. He could walk there in fifteen minutes. He could be at her door. He could knock.He didn't.He went inside.---The penthouse was dark and cold.Nick didn't turn on the lights. He walked to his bedroom, sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at the photograph on his nightstand. The boy with the scar. The girl with the yellow ribbon.Emma.He picked up the photograph. He traced the outline of her face — the gap-toothed smile, the ribbon, the way she leaned toward him even then."I love you," he sai

Wednesday morning arrived gray and quiet. Emma woke before her alarm — a habit she couldn't break, even now. She lay in bed for a while, watching the light shift through her curtains. The apartment smelled like coffee and the faint trace of Nick's sweater, which she had worn to bed again. She didn't want to wash it. She wanted to keep his smell close — cedar and something warm, something safe. At 8:00 AM, she made breakfast. Eggs. Toast. Coffee that she didn't have to drink at her desk. She ate slowly, sitting at her small kitchen table, looking out the window. This is my life now, she thought. It was strange. It was quiet. It was hers. --- At 10:00 AM, her phone buzzed. Chloe: Lunch today? I need to see you. I'm losing my mind without you. Emma smiled. Emma: Where do you want to go? Chloe: That place near your apartment. The one with the sandwiches. Emma: The deli? Chloe: Yes. 12:30? Emma: See you there. Emma put down her phone. She hadn't seen Chloe since Monday — s

The next morning arrived cold and gray. Nicholas Vance had been in therapy for exactly two weeks. Two sessions. One hour each. He had spent more time in waiting rooms than he had spent talking about his feelings. But something was changing. He didn't know what. He didn't know if it was good. He only knew that he woke up this morning and the silence in his penthouse didn't feel like a weight. It just felt... quiet. He dressed in a charcoal suit. White shirt. The silver tie. He looked in the mirror. You're not the boy from the basement anymore, he told himself. You're not your father. You're not just the Vice Chairman. Who are you? He didn't have an answer. But he was going to find one. --- At 9:00 AM, Nick walked into the therapist's office. Dr. Patricia Chen was a small woman with gray hair and kind eyes and a way of sitting that made you want to tell her everything. She had been treating him for two weeks. She already knew more about him than anyone except Emma. "Nichola