Chapter 5 - The Walk into the Snow
James looked down at the scattered blueprints on the carpet. His jaw worked, but no words came out of his throat.
"You didn't cancel it," Emma said, nodding slowly as the final piece of hope died inside her chest. "You were going to let me build that reading room. You were going to let me pour my soul into that third floor for six months."
"No, Emma—"
"And then, when your zoning cleared, you were going to hand Mrs. Anderson an eviction notice based on a manufactured structural defect," she continued, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve, her voice turning completely numb. "And you would have written us a check for five hundred thousand dollars and walked away to your ribbon cutting."
"I was looking for a workaround!" James yelled, his voice breaking with agony. "The investors... the debt structure for Avalon is tied to the municipal parking requirements! I couldn't just tear up the master plan without triggering a default on a two-billion-dollar bond issue!"
"So you bought my trust instead," Emma said. "You bought my pride. You made me look like an absolute fool in front of my grandmother and Mrs. Anderson."
"Emma, please," James begged, dropping to his knees among the scattered papers, looking up at her with eyes that were red and raw. "I fell in love with you. I swear on Lily’s life, I fell in love with you the second you told me the Brooklyn Bridge was built by people who didn't know if it would hold."
Emma looked down at him.
The mighty James Blackwell, kneeling in his bespoke suit on the floor of his empire, begging for mercy from a girl in worn denim and scuffed boots.
She felt no satisfaction. She felt only a hollow, cavernous grief.
"You don't know what love is, James," Emma whispered. "To you, love is just another holding company you can buy to hedge your risks."
She pulled the silver key to the third floor from her pocket.
She held it above his outstretched hands.
Then she opened her fingers.
The key bounced off the hardwood floor with a sharp, metallic ping, sliding beneath his mahogany desk.
Emma walked past him toward the double doors.
"Emma!" James shouted, scrambling to his feet, chasing her into the marble elevator lobby. "Emma, wait! We can fix this! I will cancel Avalon! I swear to God, I'll pull the entire project!"
The private elevator chime sounded. The mirrored doors slid open.
Emma stepped inside and turned to face him. Her face was pale, streaked with dried tears, but her posture was as rigid and unbreakable as steel.
"Keep your money, Mr. Blackwell," she said, her voice eerily calm as the elevator doors began to close. "And build your parking lot."
May you like
The doors sealed shut.
Emma rode the elevator down eighty floors, walked out into the freezing January blizzard on Madison Avenue without her coat, and disappeared into the swirling white storm.
