Heartprints in the Void

**Cade **

I sit in my home office, staring at the pair of monitors in front of me, feeling as though the expansive room is closing in on me, my thoughts racing. Just as Elysian asked me to, I completed the packet inspection. I should've braced myself, but nothing could've prepared me for what I found.

*This has to be a mistake...*

My gaze wanders around the room, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a stunning view of the city skyline, the sleek, modern furniture, and state-of-the-art technology surrounding me. But even the familiar comfort of my meticulously designed space doesn't ease the sickening feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach the moment my inspection was complete.

*What the hell is in that file..? And why the hell would she risk her career to access it?*

...

*Why does it have my name on it?*

I lean back in my leather chair, running my hand over my face as I try to make sense of this. I've always prided myself on my ability to compartmentalize, to keep my personal life separate from my professional one. However, the moment I realized the woman my ex-colleague, Jeremy, had hired is Elysian-*my* Elysian-those lines suddenly...blurred.

*Why?*

I have my fair share of exes, half of which I hardly remember their names, but Elysian... From the moment I met her, she had a way of getting under my skin, of challenging me in ways no other woman dared-save for my mother. Even now, after not having seen her for years, I can't shake the feeling that she knows something I don't.

The thought of calling my father crosses my mind, because if this file is real, if it's mine, there's no way he doesn't know about it. But I hesitate. Our relationship has always been complicated, a touchy balance of power and control. I've spent my entire life trying to prove myself to him, to show him that I'm worthy of the *Sinclair* name.

*He probably has something to do with this...*

My father's always been a secretive man-conniving. He always treated Elysian with disdain, and though at the time I thought it had everything to do with her not fitting his picture perfect standard of what a classy and submissive woman should be, I'm starting to think it was more than that. Her return, the way she's behaved toward me since, and now the file?

*What the fuck did he do?*

I turn to my computer, pulling up the HR system and searching for Elysian's file. Her address stares back at me, a silent invitation to confront the past I've tried so hard to avoid.

As I gaze at the screen, trying to recollect memories of the time we spent together, all I remember are the moments my frustration toward her made it hard for me to tolerate her. And the more I try to focus on them, the more I realize that there are gaps, moments that feel hazy and incomplete.

I remember the day I met her, the instant attraction I felt when our eyes locked across the room. I remember the way she challenged me, the way she refused to be intimidated by my wealth or family name.

But the details of our relationship, the moments that should be etched into my memory... it's like they don't exist. It's like trying to remember a dream, the edges blurry and indistinct.

I glance at the clock, the glowing silver-white numbers marking 10:45PM. It's late, but I know I won't be able to rest until I have answers-answers that *she* has.

I stand abruptly, my chair rolling back as I grab my keys and head for the door to the garage. My gaze glosses over the black Ferrari my father gifted me for my birthday last year, averting to my comfortable everyday drive gold Rover.

In the next moment, I find myself driving out of my garage, through the gates of the enclosed estate community, and down the curvy road that leads to the highway. I glance at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of my reflection. I hardly recognize myself, the weight of the past few hours etched into my features.

The drive to Elysian's apartment is a blur, the city lights streaming past my windows as I navigate the familiar streets. I've made this drive countless times before to the bar I sat at a few nights ago and saved her life, but tonight, it feels different.

I park in front of her building, the engine idling as I stare up at the windows of the pair of balcony doors I know are hers. The light is on, a soft glow that tells me she's still awake-she never leaves any lights on indoors when she goes to bed, *that* I remember.

For a moment, I hesitate, my hand on the door handle as I weigh my options. I could turn back, pretend this never happened and go on with my life, but I know that's not really an option. Not anymore.

With a deep breath, I step out of the car, the cool night air hitting my face as I make my way across the street, to the staircase of her building. Each step makes my heart beat faster, hammering in my chest as I come closer to the truth I'm not sure I want to know.

Finally, I come to stand in front of her door, my breathing uneven. I raise my hand, my knuckles poised to knock, but I hesitate.

On the other side of this door is the woman who still has the power to unsettle me with a single look, and in her possession is a truth that could change everything.

*I've been an asshole to her. What if she tells me to go fuck myself?*

...

*I could still threaten to destroy her life.*

...

*If it comes down to it... could I even do that to her?*

With a breath, I let my hand fall, the sound of my knock echoing through the empty hallway. As I wait for her to answer, I feel the anticipation in the air grow heavier, like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff.

After a long moment, I knock again, impatiently. This time, I'm met with the sound of a deep, loud bark, muffled by the door. Then, her voice, muffled yet familiar, echoes. "Just a moment!"

I inhale sharply, my hands balling into fists at my sides as I wait. The seconds that pass feel like an eternity, hearing the lock click in the next moment. The door swings open, and there she is.

Our eyes lock, and it's as though the world around us disappears. I search her face, trying to read the emotions flickering behind those deep, brown eyes. Uneasiness, curiosity, and a hint of something I can't quite place. "Hi," she breathes out after a long moment, her voice soft and tentative.

And just like that, the spell shatters. A surge of raw and overwhelming anger crashes over me like a tidal wave. I turn away from her, my feet carrying me forward in a restless pace. I take a few steps, my mind racing, before I let out a deep breath, running my hand through my hair in frustration.

A humorless chuckle escapes my lips, a pitiful attempt to cope with the rage simmering beneath my skin. I can't make sense of it, can't understand why the mere sight of her, alone, is enough to trigger it.

I shake my head, my hand coming to my face where I cup my mouth for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control. But it's useless. The anger, the confusion, the desperate need for answers-it's all too much.

I turn to look at her, my breathing uneven as I take reluctant steps towards her. I come to a stop just a foot short from her, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes, to catch the faint scent of her sweet perfume. "Can I come in?" I ask, my voice strained and barely recognizable even to my own ears.

She hesitates, her eyes searching mine for a long moment. I can see the uncertainty, the wariness in her gaze. But finally, she nods, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.

She steps back, opening the door wider and motioning for me to enter. I brush past her, my shoulder grazing hers as I cross the threshold into her apartment.

The space is warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the rage boiling inside me. As I step further into the apartment, I'm enveloped by the faint scent of vanilla and lavender, a familiar and soothing aroma that feels like I'm being mocked.

If I'd known it was going to be like this, I might've done things differently, because as I stand here, taking in the cozy furniture, the soft glow of the lamps, the framed pictures on the wall, I can't help the feeling that if she does anything but act like she's walking on eggshells around me, I might actually, physically hurt her.