Too Late For Regret, Mr. Sterling

lit up, a slash of w

me old place. The St

ge was fr

from the polished mahogany. Her throat tightened. Aspen. T

wasn't locked. Heathcliff Sterling never bothered with a password around her. She

"Colleg

stence, the degree she never earned, the small town the Sterlings

her own phone, she opened an app she'd installed three years ago, a week after their wedding. A GPS t

sed. Parked on

to The

e the cold diamonds Heathcliff had bought for occasions he barely remembered. Her fingers dug into the velvet lining at the back, closing

gray T-shirt. A pale woman with hair pulled into a severe bun stared back

of marriage compressed into a single, sharp point: the burn of spices o

of her own blood loud in her ears. She didn't need to a

oors slid open onto plush carpet that deadened the sound of her footsteps. Outside the

e in her

king so badly she had to steady it w

ed the d

A pair of his Italian leather shoes were kicked into a cor

running water came from the bathroom,

icking of a clock on the wall was a sharp,

rk hair pinned up, a silk robe cinched at her waist. S

she lo

o panic. Just a flicker of amusement, a s

ched out of

ister, Georg

sp white shirt, his tie loosened. He saw Ada, and his face-the face she had loved

draped neatly over the arm of a chair, as if he had been sitting there, maintaining a

ng here?" he aske

No scream came. No tears. Sh

steered the car toward the one place that was

living room, trimming the stems of white ros

out. "Heathcliff

hed, a sound of weary patience. "H

He looked at Ada, his l

hat of a man explaining a simple concept to a child. "

't want to give up her position as principal dancer. She let you take

nsaction. She was a su

nly irritation at the disruption. She was

rrifying calm settled o

d out of the house tha

her skin, but she felt nothing. She stood on the man

throat-not a sob, bu

-