Chapter 6: Max's Departure

[Sarah's Perspective]

I curled up on the balcony lounger, scrolling through my recovered phone. The screen's soft glow illuminated notifications of declined transactions – Michael had drained my savings account before disappearing. Three years of careful saving from my work as Mrs. Morrison's nurse, gone in an instant.

News headlines scrolled past: "Morrison Group Thwarts Kidnapping Ring." "Tiger's Gang Eliminated." "Thirty-Five Morrison Employees Recover After Chemical Incident." The stories felt distant, like watching someone else's life unfold. Yet here I was, somehow at the center of it all.

I closed my banking app and opened my photos instead. Most were of Mrs. Morrison – her gentle smile as I helped her in the garden, her confused expression when the fog of Alzheimer's descended, her joy on good days when she remembered everything.

Three years ago, I had been just another nurse's aide at Golden Age Manor, struggling to rebuild a life I couldn't remember. Then one day, Mrs. Morrison came to visit her old friend, and everything changed. I still remember her stopping in the doorway of the recreation room, watching me help residents with their afternoon activities. There was something in her eyes – recognition, perhaps, or simply kindness – that made her pause.

"You remind me of someone," she had said, studying my face. Despite her Alzheimer's, her gaze was clear and sharp that day. "Someone very dear to us, long ago."

A week later, she offered me a position as her private nurse. More than that, she offered me a home. For three years, she had been my whole world. My only world, really, since waking up in that hospital with no memory of who I was.

The balcony doors whispered open behind me. Max's presence filled the space, bringing with it the familiar scent of his expensive cologne. My heart performed its usual gymnastics routine at his proximity.

"The Azure Liquid incident report," he said without preamble, setting a tablet on the table between us. "Dr. Lewis was impressed by your chemical expertise."

I kept my eyes fixed on the dark gardens below. "Anyone would have thought to use a basic solution to neutralize an acid."

"The reaction created an odorless gas that even our senior researchers didn't immediately identify." His voice carried an edge. "Yet you knew exactly what was happening and how to treat it."

"Lucky guess."

"A high school dropout who worked as a stripper doesn't make lucky guesses about complex chemical reactions." He moved closer, his shadow falling over me. "Especially not involving classified military compounds."

My fingers tightened on my phone. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth would be a start." He picked up the tablet, scrolling through the report. "Do you know what Azure Liquid is worth on the military market? Morrison Group paid eighty million dollars for just one hundred grams."

"I don't know anything about—"

"Kevin will be conducting a new background investigation." His tone left no room for argument. "Dr. Lewis has offered you a position in the research division. Perhaps working there will help jog your memory about where you learned such specialized knowledge."

"I can't." The words came out barely above a whisper. "I'm going back to DC tomorrow. To visit your grandmother."

His jaw tightened. "Don't mention our... situation to her. Her health is fragile enough."

"I would never upset her." I finally looked up at him. "She's the only person who's ever..." I swallowed hard. "She gave me a home when I had nothing."

Something flickered in his eyes. "And now? What do you have now?"

"Nothing." I managed a bitter smile. "Just like before."

His gaze fell on my phone, still displaying photos of his grandmother. But it wasn't those that caught his attention – it was the one that came before. Isabella Blake, radiant in a white sundress, laughing up at a younger Max.

"You kept her pictures," I said softly. "In the old album in your study."

"We grew up together."

The conversation lapsed into silence. Max moved to the bed, his movements carrying their usual precise grace. I followed, settling beneath the silk sheets, hyper-aware of his presence beside me. The warmth radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne – it all felt achingly intimate.

His gaze lingered on the tablet for a moment longer, scrolling through what appeared to be security footage from the lab incident. His thumb paused briefly over a particular frame, and something indefinable flickered across his face. But before I could process what it meant, he set the tablet aside with mechanical precision.

Just as my eyelids grew heavy, just as sleep began to blur the edges of consciousness, a familiar melody cut through the darkness – Chopin's Nocturne, Isabella's special ringtone. Max glanced at the screen. For a fraction of a second, his shoulders tensed – so subtle I might have imagined it.

Isabella's voice filled the silence, carrying through the speaker: "Max? I'm scared here at the hospital... Can you come stay with me for a while?"

He was already reaching for his jacket, but his movements seemed... different. More measured, perhaps. Or was I just seeing what I wanted to see?

"Leaving again?" My voice was soft, tinged with a familiar resignation. "Just like last time."

He paused at the door, one hand on the handle. For a moment – just a moment – his fingers tightened on the doorframe, leaving the faintest impression in the wood. Then Isabella's voice came again, small and frightened: "Max? Are you there?"

The door clicked shut behind him.