I have Whelan on speed dial. He picks up immediately.
“Whelan, it’s Christian Grey. What’s going on?” I shout over the rush of the wind.
“Mr. Grey, good afternoon. Um, your wife is here requesting to withdraw five million dollars.”
What?
My blood turns to ice.
“Five million?” I can’t quite believe what he’s said.
What does she need five million for?
Fuck. She’s leaving me.
My world crashes and burns, a cavern of despair opening at my feet.
“Yes, sir. As you know, under current banking legislation I can’t cash five million.”
“Yes, of course.” I’m in shock, teetering on the brink of the abyss. “Let me talk to Mrs. Grey.” I sound robotic.
“Certainly, sir. If you’ll hold for a minute.”
This is agony. I head to shelter out of the wind, beside the elevator doors, and stand quietly waiting to hear from my wife…dreading to hear from my wife.
She’s going. She’s leaving me.
What am I going to do without her? The phone clicks and my panic overwhelms me.
“Hi.” Ana’s voice is breathy and high-pitched.
“You’re leaving me?” The words are out before I can stop them.
“No!” she rasps, and it sounds like an agonized appeal.
Oh, thank fuck. But my relief is short-lived.
“Yes,” she whispers, as if she’s just made her decision.
What!
“Ana, I—” I don’t know what to say. I want to beg her to stay.
“Christian, please. Don’t.”
“You’re going?” You’re really going.
“Yes.”
No! No! NO! I free-fall, tumbling down into the abyss. Falling. Falling. Falling. Reaching out, I splay my hand on the wall to support myself. The pain is visceral.
Don’t leave me.
Shit, was this always going to happen? Did she ever love me?
Was it my fucking money?
“But why the cash? Was it always the money?” Tell me it wasn’t the money. Please. The pain is indescribable.
“No!” She sounds emphatic.
Do I believe her?
Is it because I saw Elena? For God’s sake! And in this moment, I don’t think I could loathe Elena more. I breathe deep, trying to get a handle on my thoughts.
“Is five million enough?” How will I live without Ana?
“Yes.”
“And the baby?” She’ll take our baby away? The knife twists in my soul.
“I’ll take care of the baby.”
“This is what you want?”
“Yes.” Her voice is barely audible. But I hear her. The pain is crippling. She wants me off the phone—I can tell. She wants it done. She wants away from me.
“Take it all,” I whisper.
“Christian,” she sobs. “It’s for you. For your family. Please. Don’t.”
I can’t stand this.
“Take it all, Anastasia,” I snarl and tilt my head back and silently howl at the gray sky above me.
“Christian—” Her desperation is laced through every syllable of my name. I can’t bear to hear her.
“I’ll always love you,” I murmur, because it’s true. They’re the last words of a condemned man. I hang up and take a deep, steadying breath, feeling hollow…nothing more than a husk.
I told her that once.
In a shower.
And then I told her I loved her.
“Mr. Grey?” Taylor’s trying to attract my attention. Ignoring him, I call Whelan again.
“Troy Whelan.”
“It’s Christian Grey. Give my wife the money. Whatever she wants.”
“Mr. Grey, I can’t—”
“I know you hold the reserve for the Pacific Northwest. Just transfer it from the main holding account. Or liquidate some of my assets. I don’t care. Give her the money.”
“Mr. Grey, this is highly irregular.”
“Just fucking do it, Whelan. Find a way, or I’ll close all the accounts and move GEH’s business elsewhere. Understand?”
He’s silent on the other end of the phone.
“We’ll sort the fucking paperwork out later,” I add, in a more conciliatory tone.
“Yes, Mr. Grey.”
“Just give her whatever she wants.”
“Yes, Mr. Grey.” I hang up.
I want to cry. I want to break down here on the roof and weep. But I can’t. I close my eyes and wish that I were here on my own.
“Mr. Grey.” Taylor’s voice cuts through my pain.
I turn to face him, and he blanches. “What?” I snarl.
“Hyde has been granted bail. He’s free.”
I glare at him. What fresh hell is this?
Hyde is free? How? I thought we’d dealt with that.
Taylor and I eyeball each other, wondering, What the hell?
“You’re leaving me?”
“No!”
“It’s for you. For your family. Please. Don’t.”
“Ana!” I whisper. “She’s trying to withdraw five million dollars.”
Taylor’s eyes widen. “Shit!” he says.
We reach the same conclusion at the same instant. Whatever the hell she’s doing, deep down I know it has something to do with that fucker Hyde. I punch the elevator button, as my utter despair congeals into fear. Fear for my wife. “Where’s Sawyer?”
“He’s at the bank. He tracked her car.” We leap into the elevator and I jab the button for the garage as Charlie Tango’s rotors start again. It’s deafening.
“You have the car keys?” I shout to Taylor as the doors close.
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s get to the bank. Do we know where Hyde is?”
“No. I’ll text Welch.”
“He left a message. Shit—it must have been the news about Hyde.”
The elevator takes forever to descend to the garage. What is Ana playing at? Why can’t she tell me if she’s in trouble? Fear wraps around my heart and my gut, strangling me from the inside. What could be worse than Ana leaving me? The distressing picture from my earlier dream slips into my head, drawing on older—much older—disturbing memories: a woman lifeless on the floor. I screw my eyes shut.