12 It was a message from Alec-a photo of him at a meeting, and a line with the faintest edge of complaint... or maybe a bit of teasing? [This meeting's so boring. I wanna go home.] I smiled faintly and replied quickly. [President Sargent, you've been working hard. Hang in there a little longer.] No sooner had I put my phone down than another message popped up. [Have you eaten? Don't skip meals.] I shook my head with a smile. This man, really, had grown so fussily caring. Still, being in someone's constant thoughts felt... rather nice. I sent him a close-up photo of the lunch the servants had just prepared according to the dietitian's menu. [About to eat now. Look, it's generous.] After a while, he replied. [Looks good, but it's definitely not as tasty as what I'd make.] I stuck out my tongue. He never lacked confidence. Yet thinking of his cooking made my mouth water; truly, his dishes were better than any chef's outside. I typed and hit send. When you come back, you must make me a proper meal] The moment it went through, I felt my cheeks flush hot again. All right. Tell me what you want and I'll make it for you.] He replied, without hesitation or innuendo-only indulgence and affection in his tone. After eating, I went through a few more hours of rehab. The exercises were inevitably painful, but they made me feel my legs waking up again. Before, there had been only numbness; now, there was sensation and movement. The feeling was strange and wonderful, as if, carrying all my memories, I were being reborn into infancy. Back at my computer, I checked the security feed and saw Clint sitting there alone. He'd noticed that I'd blocked every contact of his. He sat silently on the floor, his messages across VibeNet marked with cold red exclamation points-numerous attempts that had not gone through. He looked around the house. Everything there was as it had been when I lived here; only the ever-busy figure who used to manage everything for him was gone. A new emptiness, a new loss, washed over him. He took out his phone and dialed my number again. Too bad for him, the only thing that came through was a mechanical female voice. "The number you have dialed is switched off." With that, he hurled the phone to the floor in anger. "Why?! Why is she doing this to me?! Hadn't I just said I couldn't be without me? Why would she still leave?!" he muttered to himself. I turned the volume up and, with effort, made out his words. "I must not have done enough. I haven't made up for it to Soleil's satisfaction yet. "Soleil... wait for me. I will make it up to you. I will make atone for everything I did wrong before." Just then, the paparazzi I hired messaged me. He was ready to run the story I'd asked him to leak earlier about Clint's low sperm count- front-page headlines and trending promotions already prepared. All he needed was my go-ahead. Hold off for now] was my reply. was curious, really. Clint had promised to make up for everything. How exactly did he plan to do that? 3:18 pm Ppx