"She didn't fall from the top."
Marcus's voice was calm. Conversational. As if he were discussing the weather or the evening news. He climbed one step, then another, closing the distance between them. Anli backed up instinctively, but there was nowhere to go—the wall behind her, the stairs below her, and Marcus advancing with the slow, deliberate grace of a predator.
"What do you mean?" Anli's voice came out steady, though her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. "What do you mean she didn't fall?"
Marcus smiled. It was a terrible thing, that smile—warm and gentle on the surface, but beneath it, something ancient and empty. "Your mother, Anli, was becoming a problem. She'd started asking questions. About my work. About my previous marriage. About the money." He tilted his head, studying her like a scientist examining a specimen. "I couldn't have that."
The words landed like physical blows. Anli felt them in her chest, her stomach, the tightening of her throat. She'd suspected. Of course she'd suspected. But hearing it—hearing him admit it so casually, so calmly—was something else entirely.
"You killed her." It wasn't a question.
"I saved myself. There's a difference." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold thread, examining it between his fingers. "She was going to leave me, you see. Take everything I'd worked for. After all the time and effort I'd invested in her, she was going to walk away." He shook his head, his expression one of mild disappointment. "I couldn't allow that."
Rage erupted in Anli's chest—hot, blinding, all-consuming. It burned away fear, burned away caution, burned away every instinct for self-preservation. She launched herself at him, her hands reaching for his throat, her nails aiming for those cold, empty eyes.
But Marcus was ready. He caught her wrists, twisting them until she cried out, and shoved her backward.
Anli stumbled. Her foot missed the step. She fell, her body slamming against the stairs, tumbling down, down, down—just as her mother had done. The world became a blur of pain and motion, edges and corners finding her ribs, her back, her head. She crashed into the wall at the bottom, her vision swimming.
Above her, Marcus descended slowly, deliberately. He stood over her, looking down with an expression of mild annoyance.
"That was foolish," he said. "I had hoped to avoid more death. It's so messy." He crouched beside her, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you've left me no choice. You'll have an accident too, Anli. Grief-stricken daughter, unable to bear the loss. It happens. People will understand."
He grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. Anli's legs wouldn't support her. She sagged against him, her head lolling. Through the fog of pain, she felt him dragging her—out of the flat, into the hallway, toward the lift.
The door opened. He pulled her inside, pressed the button for the fifth floor. The highest floor. The roof access.
"Please," Anli whispered. Her voice was a thread, barely audible. "Please don't."
Marcus looked at her, and for just a moment, his mask slipped. She saw what lay beneath—not a man, but a void. An emptiness that could never be filled.
"I'm sorry," he said. And she knew he meant it. Not sorry for killing her. Sorry that it had come to this. Sorry that she'd forced his hand. In his mind, he was the victim. He always would be.
The lift doors opened onto a small landing. A door led to the roof. Marcus pushed it open, and cold night air rushed in, carrying the smell of rain and exhaust and London. He dragged her to the edge.
Anli looked down. Five floors. Fifty feet. The pavement below was dark, wet, waiting.
"Any last words?" Marcus asked. He sounded almost bored.
Anli thought of her mother. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she'd say my love like it was the most natural thing in the world. She thought of Penny, stealing her work. She thought of all the years she'd spent invisible, silent, small.
"I'll find you," she whispered. "In whatever comes next. I'll find you and I'll make you pay."
Marcus laughed. It was a gentle sound, almost kind. "No, Anli. You won't."
And he pushed her.
The fall lasted forever and no time at all. Anli felt the wind rush past her, felt her body tumbling through darkness, felt the pavement rushing up to meet her. She thought of her mother. She thought of unfinished work. She thought of all the things she'd never said, never done, never been.
Then impact. Pain beyond pain. Darkness.