Too Late, Mr. Mills: Watch Me Leave

The air in the room was thick enough to choke on. Everette ignored Janna, stepping around her like she was a piece of furniture. He stopped right in front of Adriana, towering over her. He looked down at her with a mixture of impatience and disgust.

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a checkbook. A Montblanc pen appeared in his hand. He clicked it open, the sound sharp in the silence.

"Name your price," he said, his voice flat. "How much will it take for you to stop this circus and sign the divorce papers?"

He was buying her silence. He was paying her off for their dead daughter.

Adriana stared at the checkbook. The anger, the hysteria, the screaming-it all drained out of her, leaving a cold, empty shell. There was nothing left to burn.

Janna lunged forward, her hand reaching for the checkbook. "You son of a-"

One of the bodyguards who had entered behind Everette caught her arm, holding her back.

Adriana didn't look at Janna. She didn't look at the checkbook. She looked up at Everette's face. "You really don't believe me," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You think Pippa is a lie I made up."

Everette let out a short, humorless laugh. "I know you, Adriana. You'd say anything to keep me tied to you. But those days are over. Becky is the future of the Mills family, not you."

As if on cue, the television mounted on the wall flickered to life. The nurse at the station had turned it on for the midday news.

"-breaking news out of Long Island," the anchor said, his face grave. "We have confirmed reports that Pippa Mills, the five-year-old daughter of Everette Mills, CEO of Mills Corporation, was found deceased in the woods of the Guzman Estate early this morning-"

The voice droned on, but the words were white noise. The screen showed a picture of Pippa. That same gap-toothed smile, the bright eyes. Next to it, aerial footage of the estate, police cars clustered like ants.

Everette froze. The pen slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a ghost. He slowly turned his head toward the screen, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open.

"-authorities have ruled out foul play at this time, though the investigation is ongoing. The mother, Adriana Guzman, was hospitalized for shock-"

The checkbook dropped from his limp hand.

Becky Clay's face went entirely white. Her eyes darted to the screen, then to Everette, and for a split second, a flicker of pure panic crossed her features before she masked it.

Everette swayed on his feet. He looked like a man who had just been shot. He slowly turned back to Adriana. The arrogance, the coldness-it was all gone. Replaced by a raw, terrifying horror.

"Adriana..." he breathed, but no sound came out. His mouth moved, but he was choking on the truth.

Adriana watched him. She waited for the satisfaction, the vindication. It didn't come. There was only exhaustion. A bone-deep weariness that made her want to close her eyes and never open them again.

"Get out," she said quietly.

Janna yanked her arm free from the bodyguard, her chest heaving. She pointed at the door. "You heard her. Get out!"

Becky tried to slip toward the door, but Everette's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. He held it in a vice grip, his knuckles white, though his eyes were still locked on Adriana.

"Leave," Janna repeated, her voice shaking. "All of you."

The bodyguards looked at Everette. He didn't move. He just stared at Adriana, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Janna," Adriana said, her voice hollow. "I want to be alone."

Janna hesitated, her eyes filled with worry. But she nodded. She shot one last glare at Everette, then turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind her.

The room was quiet. Just the hum of the television and the sound of Everette's ragged breathing.

Adriana turned away from him. She climbed back onto the bed, her movements slow and mechanical. She pulled the thin hospital blanket up to her chin, closing her eyes.

She didn't want to look at him anymore. She didn't want to see the regret that was too late.

Her hand, fumbling beneath the pillow, didn't find comfort. Instead, her fingers brushed against the worn fabric of the coat Janna had brought from her apartment. A coat she hadn't worn in years. Deep in the pocket, her fingers closed around a small, familiar plastic bottle. The sleeping pills. From before. From a time when the darkness was a different kind of monster. She had hidden them, just in case. She had forgotten them. But they were here. Waiting.

Now was the time.

While Everette stood there, paralyzed by the reality of what he had done, Adriana popped the cap. She didn't need water. She just tilted her head back, forcing down a dry, choking handful, and then another. The pills were bitter and sharp on her tongue.

The room started to blur at the edges. The colors bled together. She felt a strange sense of peace settling over her, a heavy blanket pulling her down into the dark.

Pippa, I'm coming.

Janna, I'm sorry. Live for me.

"Adriana." Everette's voice broke through the fog. He sounded desperate, panicked. "Adriana, talk to me. I didn't know. My god, I didn't know."

She felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. But it was too far away. She was already sinking.

She opened her eyes one last time. Everette was leaning over her, his face twisted in agony. It was the first time she had ever seen him look human.

But it didn't matter. It was too late.

She closed her eyes, and the darkness took her.