Chapter 6: Ninety-Seven Reasons to Stay Calm
I wore the blue dress.
Brendan had bought it for me in the second year of our relationship.
He had said it looked beautiful on me.
I had believed him.
I still didn't know whether that had been real or part of a scheme with a number and a rating attached.
It didn't matter now.
I wore it because it was armor, and because he wouldn't know that.
He opened the door of his apartment himself.
He looked relaxed.
Easy.
The way someone looks when they believe everything is going exactly according to plan.
"You came." He stepped aside to let me in.
"You asked me to," I said.
The living room was the same as always.
His laptop open on the coffee table, two coffee cups already set out, the kind of careful staging that I had once read as thoughtfulness.
Now I read it differently.
I sat down.
He sat across from me.
"So," he said, smiling.
"How are you feeling?
You sounded off on the phone yesterday."
"Just tired," I said.
"The clinic visit wore me out more than I expected."
Something moved behind his eyes.
Amusement, maybe.
Quickly covered.
"Of course," he said.
"You should have rested.
You didn't need to rush over today."
"I wanted to," I said.
"I've been thinking about us.
About where things are going."
He leaned back slightly.
Comfortable.
"And?"
"I think I've been holding back," I said.
"I think I've been afraid to fully commit.
And I don't want to be afraid anymore."
He was very good.
His expression shifted into something warm, something that in another life would have looked like love.
"That means a lot to me," he said.
"I want to move forward," I said.
"Together.
I want to stop second-guessing everything."
He picked up his coffee.
"What changed?"
"The clinic," I said simply.
"When I gave bl00d, I realized — I would do anything for the people I love.
I don't want to waste any more time."
He was looking at me with an expression I couldn't fully read.
Somewhere underneath the performance, I thought I saw the faintest trace of something uncomfortable.
Not guilt — Brendan didn't carry guilt.
But something almost like unease.
Like the game had shifted slightly and he wasn't sure how.
"I want to meet Scarlett," I said.
The coffee cup stopped moving.
"What?"
"Your friends talk about her sometimes.
She was at university with us.
I don't think I ever properly got to know her." I kept my voice light and easy.
"It seems strange that someone so connected to your world is someone I've barely spoken to.
I'd like to change that."
Brendan set his cup down.
"Why?"
"Because if we're moving forward, I want to know everyone in your life.
Including old friends." I smiled.
"Don't you think that's reasonable?"
He was quiet for three full seconds.
In three years, Brendan was rarely quiet without a reason.
"Sure," he said finally.
"I'll reach out to her."
"Wonderful." I stood.
"I should let you get back to work.
I just wanted to see you." I picked up my bag.
"Oh — one more thing.
My university alumni office called my mother this week.
Something about a complaint?
Do you know anything about that?"
His face didn't change.
Not a muscle.
"That sounds like a mix-up," he said.
"Probably a wrong number."
"Probably," I agreed.
"I'll look into it."
I kissed him on the cheek, the way I had done a hundred times before, and walked to the door.
"Chloe," he said behind me.
I turned.
"I'm glad you came."
"Me too," I said.
I walked down the stairs and out onto the street.
The morning air was cool.
I kept my pace even and my face neutral until I reached the corner.
Then I took out my phone and sent Diana a single message.
*He didn't know that I knew.
But he knows something is different.
We need to move faster.*
Her reply came within two minutes.
*I know.
Liam called me an hour ago.
Brendan contacted him this morning asking if he'd spoken to you recently.*
I stopped walking.
*What did Liam say?*
*He said no.
But Chloe — Brendan is going to start watching him more carefully now.
If Liam's cover breaks before we're ready, they'll accelerate everything.*
I looked back down the street toward Brendan's building.
*Then we don't give them time to accelerate.*
*I have a meeting Thursday,* Diana replied.
*But I need you to do something first.
The employer tip — scheme 98 — it may have already been sent.
Check your professional email.*
I opened the app right there on the sidewalk.
At the top of my inbox was an email from my department director.
The subject line read: *Urgent — Request for Meeting.*
May you like
It had arrived at 6:47 that morning.
Ninety-eight had already landed.
