Chapter 9 - The Final Departure"Claire, wait!" I shouted, running toward the truck as the engine roared to life.
I grabbed the driver's side window frame, but Noah Vance’s truck—which I hadn't noticed parked just around the bend—suddenly pulled up behind her, blocking my path, while Claire’s truck reversed sharply and sped down the gravel access road toward the highway.
I stood in the middle of the dust and exhaust fumes, watching her tail-lights disappear around the bend of Cape Elizabeth.
Marco walked up slowly behind me, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder. "Dominic... I'm sorry. But she made her choice. And the board... the board still needs you."
I stood there for a long time, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and the rhythmic thump of the helicopter blades idling behind us.
The brass compass in my pocket felt heavy, like a lead weight pressing against my heart. I pulled it out, flipping open the lid. The needle spun wildly for a second before settling firmly pointing North.
North toward Ellsworth. North toward Whitman & Tide. North toward a life I had lost because I was too blind to see it while I still owned it.
I closed the compass, slipped it back into my pocket, and turned around to face Marco.
The grief in my chest was sharp and suffocating, but beneath it, for the first time in ten years, there was no corporate static. There was only the cold, clear truth of a man who had finally learned what it cost to win the world and lose his soul.
"Let's go back to New York, Marco," I said quietly.
May you like
Marco blinked, surprised. "You're giving up?"
"No," I replied, stepping past him toward the helicopter, my jaw set with a new, unshakeable resolve. "I'm not giving up anything. I'm just changing the game."
