The apartment was modest but deliberate.
Everything in its place. Nothing excessive.
She didn't make a production of having him there. Just moved to the kitchen, switched on the counter light and reached for a glass.
"Water?"
"Yes."
She poured without looking at him. He stood near the entrance, jacket still on, taking in the space quietly.
She crossed the room and handed him the glass.
"You can sit," she said.
He did.
She settled into the chair across from him, tucking one leg beneath her, relaxed in a way she never quite was at the office.
He noticed that.
The silence between them was easy. Neither of them rushed to fill it.
"You didn't have to drive me," she said eventually.
"I know."
She looked at him. "Then why did you?"
He turned the glass slowly between his palms.
"I wanted to."
She held his gaze for a moment then looked toward the window.
He leaned back.
"Your file said you grew up without parents," he said. Quiet. Not probing. Just placing it there.
She looked back at him.
Something moved behind her eyes.
"I don't really want to talk about that," she said.
He nodded once. No push. No follow up.
"Okay," he said simply.
She looked at him for a second longer than she meant to.
In her head she was already calculating. The file Kelvin had built for her said orphan. Clean. Simple. No parents, no traceable family, nobody to contradict the story.
But Ethan Cross was also an orphan.
And the way he had said it quiet, careful, like he already understood something about it , told her he wasn't asking out of curiosity.
He was asking because he thought they shared something.
She couldn't tell him they didn't.
She couldn't tell him they did.
I'll figure something out, she thought. Later.
"Sorry," she said softly. "It's just ....complicated."
"Don't apologize," he said. "I understand complicated."
She believed him.
That was the problem.
A small silence settled.
Then he looked at her differently. Something lighter moving into his expression.
"That thing you had in the car," he said. "The snack. What was it."
She blinked. "Sorry?"
"You were eating something when I picked you up. From a small container. You offered me some."
"I was wrong," he said. "It was good."
She stared at him.
Then laughed. Genuine. Surprised out of her.
"You want me to make you food," she said. "Right now. At this hour."
"If it's not too much trouble."
"It's eleven thirty."
"I'm aware of the time."
She looked at him for a moment.
Then stood up and went to the kitchen.
She made it quickly .. simple, the kind of thing that didn't need much, but made properly. She brought it back and set it in front of him without ceremony.
He tasted it.
Said nothing for a moment.
"You're good at this," he said.
"I know," she said.
He almost smiled.
They stayed like that for a while longer. The city outside moving quietly through the window. The apartment warm and unhurried around them.
When he finally stood to leave she walked him to the door.
He stopped just before it.
Turned slightly.
She was closer than she expected.
He reached out and held her chin gently between his fingers, tilting her face up just slightly.
His eyes were steady on hers.
"Lil cat," he said quietly.
She said nothing.
"Whenever you're ready to talk," he said. "I'm here."
He let go.
Opened the door.
And left.
She stood in the doorway for a moment after his footsteps faded down the hall.
Then she closed the door slowly.
Leaned her back against it.
And stood there in the quiet of her apartment telling herself very firmly that the way he had said that meant nothing.
She almost believed it.
CROSS MANSION***
Speed came through the front door alone.
He had barely made it three steps before she appeared.
Claire stood at the top of the staircase, arms folded, eyes already sharp.
"Where is he?"
Speed kept his expression neutral. "Mr. Cross had some things to handle at the office. He'll be back in the morning."
"In the morning," she repeated slowly.
"Yes ma'am."
She came down the stairs, each step deliberate. She stopped in front of him.
"He left hours ago. Came back without you. And now it's the office." She tilted her head slightly. "Just say you won't tell me."
Speed said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Her expression hardened.
"Fine." She stepped back. "I'll find out myself."
She turned and walked back up the stairs without another word. No raised voice. No scene.
Just that quiet, certain stride.
The kind that made Speed more uneasy than shouting ever could.
He stood in the empty foyer long after she disappeared.
Then exhaled slowly.
This house, he thought, was becoming very complicated.