Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
The sugar packets suddenly look very countable.
The ceiling tiles very measurable.
The space between us very finite.
“You’ve made remarkable progress, or so I’ve been told,” Katherine says, stirring her untouched tea with precise movements. “Even your gloves at the party—so much more elegant than those latex ones you usually wear.”
Told by whom? Is she having me watched?
My glove-covered fingers twitch against the cup. These gloves were Lee’s gift. His way of making my barriers beautiful instead of medical.
“And Lee,” she continues, her voice softening with practiced care. “He’s grown so much since being with you. More controlled. More focused. Finally living up to the Sterling name.”
There’s a trap here somewhere, hidden beneath her honey-coated words. I stay silent, counting the ripples in my cooling tea.
“And that’s exactly why you need to leave him.”
What did she just say? I’m so shocked I have to ask her to repeat herself. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me, dear. I know it’s rather gauche of me to have to ask, but I need you to think about it.” Katherine leans forward, her perfectly manicured hands clasped on the table. “You’ve helped him find balance. Shown him how to control his impulses. Given him the tools he needs to be the man he’s always meant to be.”
“I don’t understand.” But I do. I understand very fucking well.
“Lee’s learning to be normal because of you,” she explains gently like I’m a child. “He’s drinking less, fighting less. He’s becoming an honorable man. It’s just that he’ll never fully transform while he’s …” She pauses delicately. “Connected to the source of questionable new habits.”
My heart floats into my stomach. She’s right. Lee counts things now because of me. Cleans things because of me. Measures spaces and checks surfaces and follows patterns—all because of me.
“He’s not transforming,” I manage. “He’s just learning to understand—”
“Understanding isn’t enough.” Katherine’s smile is almost kind. “The Sterling name carries certain expectations. Lee needs to be more than understanding. He needs to be perfect. And he can’t be perfect while mimicking your … peculiarities. He’s always had some of the impulses, counting occasionally, humming the same strain of song over and over endless.” She says it like she’s exhausted just thinking about it. “But he does it more with you now, and I need that to stop.”
The worst part is, her logic makes a twisted kind of sense. Lee does count more now. Does check things more often. Does measure spaces like I do.
“He’s happy,” I whisper, but that sounds weak even to my own ears.
“Is he?” Katherine raises one perfect eyebrow. “Or is he just adapting to your world because he cares for you? Picking up your habits because he wants to make you comfortable? Becoming something he’s not because he thinks he needs to protect you?”
Each question lands like a blade, slicing me to the bone.
“I’ve watched my son try to fit himself into other people’s worlds before,” she continues softly. “Seen him twist himself into knots trying to be what others need and want. But this time … this time, he’s actually changing. Actually becoming someone who could lead the Sterling legacy. And it’s because of you.”
She smiles, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Her checkbook appears like magic, sleek and black and terrifying in its implications. She opens it with deliberate care, her Mont Blanc pen clicking with surgical precision.
“What’s your price?” she questions, like we’re suddenly negotiating a business deal. “Whatever you think your future with Lee is worth. Whatever dreams you’re holding on to. Whatever plans you’ve made. I’ll double it.”
The casual cruelty of it steals my breath. How do you put a price on the way Lee counts ceiling tiles with me at three a.m.? On how he remembers to sanitize everything three times? On the sound of his voice when he tells me my broken pieces make perfect sense?
You fucking don’t.
“I’m not …” My voice cracks. “This isn’t about money.”
“Oh, but it is … everything is about money, dear.” She begins writing, the scratch of her pen against the paper makes my skin crawl. “That’s the first lesson of becoming a Sterling. One you’ll never fully learn, I’m afraid.”
She casually adds zeros to her number. More zeros than I’ve ever seen on a check. Enough zeros to pay for graduate school. To start a new life. To become someone who doesn’t need to count things or wear gloves or measure spaces.
“Think of it as an investment,” Katherine continues, her voice gentle but firm. “In Lee’s future. In your future. In the chance for both of you to become who you’re meant to be.”
“And who is that?” The words taste like ashes.
“For Lee? The heir the Sterling name deserves. Controlled, powerful, suitable.” She looks up, blue eyes sharp as ice. “For you? Someone who doesn’t have to pretend to be normal. Who doesn’t have to force herself into a world that will never fully accept her.”