Avery Collins, thirty four years old, stood in the kitchen of her apartment in Seattle, phone pressed tightly to her ear while she listened to a silence that felt heavier than noise. The call had ended minutes earlier, or at least she believed it had ended until something faint reached her.
“I love you,” said Adrian Blake earlier, his voice warm and familiar as always, and he added that he just wanted to say hello before dinner got busy because Harrison always threw loud parties.
She had smiled and told him to enjoy himself, then she heard the click and assumed the call ended, yet the line stayed open as if forgotten in his pocket. From the speaker came muffled laughter, glasses clinking, and overlapping voices that slowly sharpened into something unmistakable.
“So when are you finally going to do it,” a man asked, likely Harrison based on the tone and confidence.
“In two months,” Adrian answered casually, sounding like he discussed routine errands instead of something life changing. “I need the company valuation finalized first, because once the paperwork predates the lawsuit, her attorney cannot touch it.”