Dana gave a brief nod and led him away.
When the elevator doors slid shut, the lobby seemed to exhale. People resumed their coffee orders and badge scans, but the air had shifted—like a mark you can’t quite wash away.
I walked to the parking lot and sat in my car. The moment the door closed, my hands began to shake. Adrenaline drained out, replaced by grief so sudden it made me nauseous. I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel and let it hit me—the humiliation, the betrayal, the anger hot enough to ignite something larger than us.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Ethan: Please. Don’t do this. Think about what you’re destroying.
I stared at it until the words blurred.
What I’m destroying?
I didn’t respond.
Instead, I called my sister, Claire. She answered on the first ring, like she’d been waiting for the day I’d finally choose myself.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“In my car,” I said, my voice breaking. “At his office.”
“Okay,” Claire said calmly. “Breathe. You’re coming to my place.”
“I can’t—I have work—”
“Marina,” she interrupted, gentle but firm. “You are not going back to that house today. You’re coming to me.”
So I did.