CHAPTER 1 — THE FIRST EIGHT MINUTES
CHAPTER 1 — THE FIRST EIGHT MINUTES
The silence after my father hung up didn’t feel empty.
It felt like something was moving through it.
Something inevitable.
I stayed on the floor beside the sofa, phone still clutched in my hand, my body refusing to fully process what I had just done—what I had finally admitted out loud.
Matthew.
Even thinking his name made the pain sharpen.
A distant sound echoed through the penthouse hallway.
Not footsteps yet.
Something more subtle.
The building’s private elevator.
Ascending without stopping.
I knew that sound. Everyone in Manhattan who mattered knew it.
Sterling security access.
My father didn’t wait for permission.
He never had.
The phone vibrated again.
“Eight minutes,” his voice said. “Don’t move.”
“I can’t—” I started.
“Yes, you can,” he interrupted. “You will.”
The line went quiet.
And then I heard it.
Far below, in the street.
May you like
A convoy arriving like a storm breaking open.
I didn’t know it yet, but Matthew’s world had already begun to tilt.
