Elias reached into his pocket and pulled out his heavy gold pen.

He unscrewed the cap with slow, deliberate movements, staring at the signature line on the document.

His hand hovered over the paper, but he did not write.

He looked up at me, his eyes searching my face for something that was no longer there.

“Did you ever actually care, Ava?” he asked.

“That doesn’t matter now,” I said. “Sign the papers, Elias.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the phone on the table between us began to vibrate.

The screen lit up with Daniel’s name, the harsh buzzing sound vibrating against the glass.

The phone buzzed against the dark mahogany wood.

Daniel’s name flashed in bright white letters.

Elias did not reach for it.

He kept his eyes on me, his fingers still gripping the gold pen.

“Are you going to answer that?” I asked.

“It can wait,” Elias said.

“He is waiting for you to fall,” I said. “He has been waiting for years.”

The phone stopped vibrating, leaving only the sound of the rain beating against the high windows.