Safe Haven

Cold rainwater dripped from Cleo's coat onto the floor outside Maura Dixon's door. Having left Goldriver Estate with only a battered suitcase and sixty dollars, she paused outside the apartment, hesitant to knock.

Three years of nonstop arguments had dragged Cleo into severe depression. Facing the outside world left her panicky, so she stayed shut indoors cooking for hours, ignoring the blisters rising on her hands. Back then, she still loved Dominic and tried everything to salvage their failing marriage, yet he never came home for dinner, leaving dish after dish to go cold untouched.

She and Maura had grown up closer than sisters in the same small town before running away together. Soon after, a warm family adopted Maura, who now lived a modest, comfortable life with her husband Macon in a compact seven-hundred-square-foot apartment.

Cleo's path had turned the day Dominic tossed her bread when she was starving on the street. She had stayed beside him ever since, trailing him from place to place as they scraped by on odd jobs.

Brushing the rain off her cheeks, Cleo reached out and pressed the doorbell.

Maura pulled the door open in her pajamas, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her.

"Who's at the door?" Macon called out irritably from inside the bedroom.

Tuning him out, Maura drew Cleo straight inside and hurried to fetch a dry towel. "What are you doing out this late, Cleo? You're soaked to the skin. Did you and Dominic get into an argument?"

"Could I stay over tonight?" Cleo asked in a voice barely above a breath.

"Of course you can," Maura answered right away. "Our spare room is pretty cramped, though—don't hold it against me, okay?"

Handing Cleo a clean set of pajamas, she slipped into the spare room and put fresh bedding on the bed.

Cleo stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Barely wide enough for two people, the space still held a partitioned shower stall, its corners darkened with brownish stains where grime had settled over the years.

She washed up fast and kept the water quiet. Rather than run the hair dryer this late at night, she headed straight into the spare room, which barely fit a five-foot bed alongside a small wooden desk.

Right then, Macon's voice drifted through the wall from the master bedroom. "Who was it?"

"Cleo," Maura murmured back. "She must've fought with Dominic."

"What's a wealthy wife like her doing here? Do you know who Dominic is? I've worked near the bottom of Vance Group for three years without catching a single glimpse of him."

"Leave it alone, Macon. Cleo is family to me."

The low voices cut off after that. Rubbing the excess water from her thick, glossy hair with the towel, Cleo coiled it into a loose bun, tucked the damp ends in, and lay straight down on the bed.

Around seven the next morning, rattling pots and pans sounded from the kitchen. Her hair had dried through the night, yet a dull, heavy headache pulsed behind her temples as she pushed herself out of bed and walked into the living area.

Five small side dishes already sat on the table while Macon set out plates. Glancing up, he greeted her with an eager smile. "Come sit down, Cleo. I went to the market early for fresh fish, and Maura made a pot of soup."

On normal workdays, busy commuters like Macon and Maura grabbed plain toast on their way out the door, yet having Cleo under their roof had prompted a full spread.

Setting down three bowls of hot oatmeal, Maura gave her an encouraging smile. "Come eat before everything cools off."

Cleo gave a slight nod and dropped her gaze, her face wan from the headache. Sunlight slanted through the window across her clear, smooth skin.

For all that had gone wrong lately, Dominic had provided well for her ever since she stubbornly attached herself to him at twelve. Back when she was young and naive, she had confused that protective care for romantic love, never realizing he viewed her as nothing more than a kid sister.

"Maura got up at five making these," Macon said, eagerly pushing a plate of ribs toward Cleo. "Say—you know I'm at Vance Group, right? My manager knows nothing besides kissing up to executives, and yesterday he chewed out a coworker until she cried. Word is he landed the job through connections, and he's docked my pay twice. Any chance you could put in a word with Dominic for me?"

Maura shot her husband a sharp warning look, though Macon just grinned right back.

"Getting caught in last night's storm really left you pale," Maura said, passing Cleo a bowl of fish soup. "Drink some of this to warm up, and don't pay Macon any mind."

Cleo raised her eyes, fever tainting her pale cheeks with a faint flush. "I'm sorry, Macon," she whispered. "Dominic and I got divorced."

Dead silence fell across the table at once.

Shock flashed across Macon's face before he leaned in. "So he's splitting half his fortune with you? Sure, he paid your way through an elite university, except you married him right after graduation without ever working. With zero experience managing that kind of money, somebody could easily bleed you dry."

"Macon Dixon!" Maura snapped.

Shutting his mouth, Macon shoved a bite of food in instead.

Maura and Cleo went all the way back to childhood. When the two of them first arrived in Veridian—like two stray raindrops swallowed by a vast sea—simply staying afloat had been an uphill battle. Adoption had eventually given Maura stability, whereas Cleo had drifted alongside Dominic, who had worked himself raw back then to put her through school.

Letting out a breath, Maura spoke gently. "Just keep your settlement somewhere safe. Macon knows a few people in real estate, so if you plan on buying a place of your own, we can ask them to advise you."

Leaving her soup untouched, Cleo spoke in a quiet voice. "I walked away with nothing. He didn't give me a single cent."

Macon's face darkened on the spot. Snatching the plate of ribs back in front of himself, he bolted down most of them and shoved his chair back to stand.

"Slipped my mind—Mom's coming over in a few days to take you in for your check-up," he told Maura flatly. "Get the spare room cleared out before then. Family comes first."

Maura kept quiet, and moments later the front door clicked shut behind him.

Right away, the elaborate breakfast sitting in front of Cleo felt as heavy as lead. "I'm sorry, Maura," she murmured. "I never meant to cause friction for you."

Redness crept into Maura's eyes as she sighed. "It's fine. I just don't get what went wrong when Dominic used to treat you so well. Remember how mad he got catching you at that secret part-time job? He only lost his temper because he wanted your focus on studying. Later, he juggled five jobs a day to cover college for you both, putting every scholarship check straight toward supporting you."

Maura broke off for a beat, her voice thickening. "And the year that awful car crash nearly left you with brain damage, Dominic worked translation jobs around the clock just to pay off your hospital bills. How could someone like that turn so cold the moment he got rich?"

Cleo's throat closed up, stinging with each swallow. That poor yet bright past they shared was the sole reason she had held on to their frayed bond for years—until she was finally worn down and broken enough to let go.

"I'm going out to look for work this afternoon," Cleo said softly.

Maura studied her with open worry. "Cleo, if you need to cry, don't hold back. Just let it out."

Yet Cleo had no tears left to shed after crying herself dry across three empty years of marriage. Finishing her bowl in silence, she carried the plates to the sink and started washing up.

Seeing grease coat Cleo's slim, delicate hands made Maura's heart ache. "Your hands weren't meant for scrubbing dishes. Even back when Dominic had nothing to his name, he never once let you touch chores like this," she said quietly.

Cleo went rigid by the sink as a sudden, sharp pain cut through her chest, fierce enough to steal her breath.

Before long, Maura had to head out for work, leaving the apartment silent. Cleo waited alone until noon, then gathered up her paperwork and made the trip over to the courthouse.

One o'clock came and went, and Dominic still hadn't turned up.

Pulling out her phone, Cleo called his number, which rang through without an answer just like always. Left with no other option, she dialed Gavin—her sole way of finding out where Dominic was over the past three years.

"Gavin, where's Dominic?" she asked.

"Mr. Vance is out of town on a business trip," Gavin answered. "He should be back in three days."

Sitting in the courthouse chair, Cleo felt her head spin as the room tilted slightly around her. She leaned forward and braced both elbows against her knees. "Could you send over his recent schedule? I need to see when he'll have an opening."

On the other end of the line, Gavin faltered, cutting an uneasy glance across the office toward Dominic—who sat right there in his boss's chair, radiating an unmistakable chill.