Beneath Her Ice

The rooftop garden of the Darcy Innovations building wasn't open to the public. It wasn't listed on any map or corporate tour, but Charlotte had once mentioned it to Will during a tipsy brunch.

And now, here he was — hands stuffed in his coat pockets, Eliza's letter still folded against his chest — waiting.

He hadn't made an appointment. He hadn't called ahead.

He just… showed up.

The wind was crisp this high up. The sky stretched above the skyline like something infinite. Eliza stood by the railing, back to him, her coat crisp and tailored, her posture unreadable.

She didn't turn when he approached.

"I didn't know you liked heights," he said quietly.

"I don't," she replied. "I like silence. Harder to find at ground level."

Will stepped beside her, careful not to crowd her space. "I got your letter."

She nodded once. "And?"

"And I read it," he said. "Three times. Maybe four."

She turned her head just slightly. Not enough to meet his gaze. "You came here to return it?"

"I came here because you didn't owe me an explanation. But you gave me one anyway."

A long pause.

Eliza's fingers tightened slightly around the metal railing. "I didn't write it for you to forgive me."

"I know."

She finally looked at him then, and for a moment — just a breath — her eyes weren't cold. They were tired. Haunted. Real.

"I grew up thinking emotions were like open-source code," she said. "Anyone could hack them if you didn't protect them properly."

Will didn't speak. He let her talk.

"My father left before I could spell my last name. My mother drowned herself in lawsuits. Feelings were… liabilities. Vulnerabilities. I learned to freeze before I ever learned to feel."

Will's throat tightened. "You learned to survive."

"And now I don't know how to stop."

A beat of silence stretched between them. The wind whispered past like it wanted to carry the tension away.

"I'm not here to fix you, Eliza," he said softly. "But I'd like to know you. The real you. Not the headlines. Not the empire. Just… you."

She turned to fully face him now.

Eyes locked.

No barriers.

No boardrooms.

Just a woman who had spent too long alone… and a man who was starting to see the beauty in her scars.

"You already know more than anyone else does," she said.

He gave her a small smile. "Then maybe it's a start."

They stood there — not touching, not rushing — just breathing the same air, letting the silence mend what words had broken.

And somewhere, beneath her polished fortress of logic and power…

Eliza Darcy began to thaw.