Chapter 8. The Day of the Meeting

Three days later

Irene was still in Warsaw. She had cut all ties with Olivia, even though Olivia called incessantly, trying to find a moment to talk. Irene no longer needed it.

She realized she no longer cared who the killer was, why Nick accused her specifically, or whether the whole story had been a tragic accident. None of it mattered anymore.

Irene was exhausted. Exhausted by events, thoughts, people…

Her only support had been Adam. But the next day he was leaving for Italy — for six months. Irene understood she had no right to burden him with her chaos and fears.

After three days alone, she made a decision. To start life with a clean slate. To sever old connections. To find a new job. To forget everything left in the past — even if that past was still clinging to her.

***

Irene stepped out of the building, wrapped tightly in her coat. The air was sharp, the evening unnaturally quiet. She had taken a few steps when a familiar voice cut through the stillness.

— You won’t get far.

Irene spun around abruptly.

Nick stood by the exit, as if waiting just for her. The realization hit instantly: this was no coincidence.

— Are you serious? — her voice was icy. — After everything, you decided to track me down too?

— I came to hear the truth, — he said, jaw clenched. — You’re guilty. And you know it.

Her laugh was short and hollow.

— Guilty? Of what exactly? That I survived?

Nick took a step forward.

— The accident. You were driving. You controlled everything. Because of you, everything went wrong.

— You weren’t there, — Irene stepped back. — You didn’t see what happened.

— But I see you now, — he replied sharply. — Hiding, silent, playing the victim.

— You’re looking for someone to blame because it’s easier to live that way, — her voice trembled with anger. — You made me a perfect target.

A tense silence hung between them. The streetlight flickered, as if emphasizing the crack between them.

— I hate you, — Nick whispered.

— Likewise, — Irene answered without hesitation.

Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. The kiss was rough, angry, devoid of warmth — more a challenge than desire.

Irene reacted instantly.

The strike was real. Strong.

— Don’t you dare, — she hissed. — Never touch me again.

He stepped back, stunned.

— Forget me, — Irene looked him squarely in the eyes. — I’m disappearing. From your life. From the life of anyone left in my past. For you, I no longer exist.

She turned and walked away, not quickening her pace.

This time it wasn’t running.

It was erasing.

Irene didn’t look back. Each step severed her from Nick, from words, from accusations — from a life long since cracked at the seams. Inside, it was empty and quiet. Dangerously quiet.

She didn’t yet know that some connections don’t disappear with people. They cling as shadows, waiting for the moment.

That night, Irene made the decision to vanish. No explanations. No justifications. To cut off the past before it destroyed her completely.

But as she walked forward, someone remained standing in the darkness behind her.

And not all thoughts that night were as honest as hers.

Tomorrow would begin a new chapter.

And this time, the danger would not come from the past, but from someone unwilling to let go.

***

Irene woke up with a crushing sense of weight, as if a cold stone rested on her shoulders. The oppressive feeling stirred conflicting emotions within her: sadness, despair, and a strange, almost painful relief. Thoughts and feelings churned like a storm, tearing everything in its path. Just like her life, shattered. Illusion. Calm. Future.

Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the window, and beyond it, a snow-covered city. Snowflakes swirled in a slow dance, falling carelessly to the ground. Rising from the bed, Irene went to the kitchen, brewed herself a cup of fragrant coffee — for the last time — and mentally said goodbye to the kitchen, the apartment, and her past life.

After breakfast, she packed her suitcases and prepared to leave her home forever. When a taxi arrived, she silently got in, thinking she was heading to the airport.

Having sent her mother a message that she would soon be in Krakow, Irene suddenly noticed the car turning in a completely different direction.

— Where are you going? — she asked the driver, tense.

— Where it needs to go, — he replied sharply.

— What? Stop immediately! — Irene shouted.

— Sit still. I won’t hurt you. The boss ordered this — so here we are.

— Who? What are you talking about? Let me out immediately!

— Shut up, or I’ll disconnect you.

Real terror washed over Irene. She understood everything.

Today, Nick would kill her. Take his revenge. And this would be the end…

The car stopped abruptly. Irene nearly hit her forehead on the seat. Around them — an industrial outskirts of the city: gray warehouses, empty windows, snow trampled into mud. No people. No random witnesses. Only silence pressing against her ears.

— Get out, — the driver said curtly.

Irene opened the door with trembling hands. The cold immediately pierced through her coat. She was led inside the building — a dark corridor, the smell of metal and damp. Every step sounded far too loud, as if someone were deliberately counting the seconds.

In the room, only one light burned. It blinded her.

— Sit, — came the command again.

The driver vanished as quickly as he had appeared. The door closed with a dull click.

— You look worse than I expected.

The voice. Familiar. Too familiar.