He hoped she had no clue, no inkling, even though he kept thinking she would guess. The weather. This scene. If she did suspect, was she telling the truth? Was she able to control the force without holding it in her possession?

He wasn’t going to change her mind. He saw that now and he didn’t dare tempt fate much longer. His hand reached inside his jacket and pulled out the book.

The look on her face heartened him. Orelia had been caught off guard; maybe she had expected more of a fight. He noticed her perfect grooming had been unraveling courtesy of the elements. Despite the umbrella, her clothes were near soaked. A thin line of black mascara ran down one cheek; her hair, having absorbed the moisture, had lost its style and begun to turn to frizz. She didn’t seem to care.

He’d imagined he still had time to stop this, that he had the choice to change the next moments after he heard her answers. He had hoped in bringing her to her mother’s grave, this would remind her there were other paths to choose. He saw now that like Wilde’s villain Dorian Gray, her thinking had been colored. She had drunk from the cup of self-deceit which can poison your soul, so you never again see the truth.

“I care Orelia, because you’ve shown me what happens when you live only for yourself. I’m glad you did what you did to my life. I’d written one great novel. Big deal. I experienced the pull of that drug too. Success. Power. But you know, it’s not winning if it comes at the expense of someone else. Success should come from giving not taking.”

William surprised himself at how much he believed those words.

He stole a glance above. The black-green cloud, which he had noticed seeming to fly across the sky in their direction, was now above them. The storm appreciated the timing of its entrance and importance to this game, to this story. Sometimes timing is everything.

She followed his look, her head tilting upward. A deep frown creased her forehead. He could see her mind ticking through what was happening, if there was something she had missed.

Yes, he thought. You’ve underestimated me.

“Why didn’t we meet in a coffee shop and stay dry. This is overly dramatic, even for you.”

She held out her hand, and raindrops hit her palm and bounced away as if repelled by her.

“I’d love to get out of this weather, if that’s okay with you. I presume you’ve brought my diary as a bargaining chip. And, alright, you win. Whatever you want is yours. Money, your next book launched at number one, selling millions, a wonderful love life. Anything. Name it.”

“Nothing. I want nothing. All I wanted was for you to stop. To see this was wrong.”

“Okay, now you are being ridiculous. Let me rephrase that. Give it back.”

William’s hand shook as he held out the diary. He’d spent a good hour considering the words before he wrote them on the fresh page, untouched by any previous owner. The white ribbon bookmark dangled against his chest as he held the book close.