Mag-log inYou could say that I had two wake up calls that day, but the true depth of their meaning would become clear later, when I got home to check my email.
There were two new messages at the top of my inbox. The first was from Dr. Ryland Winchester and the HR department of Haven Medical Group.
The second one was from the camera I had installed in the car.
My heart skipped. Good news, bad news–which one do I open first?
Exhaling, I chose to look at the offer letter.
It was a generous offer–far more generous than I was expecting. If I took the position, not only would I get an opportunity to work on a fully-funded research team among some of the country’s physicians, including my old mentor Professor Winchester, I would be paid handsomely for my services–three times what I’d make here in NYC for any of the local hospitals.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A reset button on the last three years.
It would be like I never gave up my future to support Misha with his.
Even as I stared at the offer, I couldn’t bring myself to feel the excitement I knew I should.
Part of me wanted to believe I was still capable of this—of stepping back into a world I had walked away from years ago. But another part whispered all the reasons I shouldn’t. I had been out of academia for too long. I was rusty. Behind. Out of place.
Saying yes felt reckless.
And then there was reality. Misha would never give up his career to follow me, and his life was firmly rooted in New York, tied to Carter Tech. California felt impossibly far away—less like a destination and more like a fantasy.
I didn’t know if I could truly separate from Misha. My mind was in complete chaos…
“I’ll write him back tomorrow,” I promised myself as I filed the message away to deal with later. “Tell him I can’t do it. That would be the professional thing to do.”
Sighing, I looked back at my email. The other unopened message was waiting. With a nervous click, I opened it to find hours of footage along with summaries and GPS data of locations and times.
As I scrolled, I noticed a pattern.
Misha visited the same residential complex over and over again on multiple days, always at the same time in the morning, and then later at night. My chest tightened as I compared the night drop off dates to the last week of “late nights” at the office.
They were a perfect match.
“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” I said more for myself than for his sake. “It doesn’t mean anything. He could be meeting a client.”
But even as I said this, my heart knew I was fooling myself.
I slept poorly that night, not just because Misha didn’t return until after midnight, but also because my mind couldn’t let go of the events of the day. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see the pretty blonde smiling up at my husband like he was her everything, and my stomach clenched with anxiety and disgust.
And yet, the next morning, I woke up an hour earlier than normal, left a note saying I was “going for a run” and took my car to the other side of the town–not to the gym, but to the address displayed in the tracking app.
Parking across the street in a narrow alley, I looked down at my watch and waited.
And at 7:45 exactly a very familiar car pulled into the parking garage. A moment later, it drove out again, and following at a discrete distance, I tailed him all the way back to Carter Tech.
Parking just a few cars away, I watched Misha, clean-shaven and smiling, open the passenger side door. Extending his hand, he offered a dainty young woman help as she climbed out of the car in very high heels.
It was the same girl from the coffee shop.
As my husband leaned down to pick up a lunchbag, my heart stopped. I recognized that bag–it was the same one he used to pack for me when we were dating and I was working late nights during my residency.
He made her lunch in my lunchbag. A lunch he used to make for me.
The girl took it graciously, and standing on tip-toe, placed a small, grateful kiss on his cheek.
My blood ran cold as my heart froze to ice.
Watching them walk side by side towards the elevator, I couldn’t stop my feet from following. Taking the next lift up, I pretended to check my phone as I walked out into the reception area, my eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses.
“Well look at that,” one of the receptionists gossiped under her breath as the two women watched my husband enter the main office, his hand on the small of the blonde woman’s back. “That new secretary, Mavis, sure moves fast, doesn’t she?”
Ah, so that’s Mavis.
“Mr. Carter does seem to dote on her,” the other receptionist replied. “She’s only been here a couple of months, but they’re practically inseparable. I wonder what she did to earn that extra attention.”
The two women giggle under their breath.
I don’t need to hear any more to know what they were implying–even the receptionists think he’s sleeping with her.
My stomach feeling sour, I turned away and headed back to my car.
Three years. I have given this man three years of my life.
Now, I need to fight back. I won’t let the sacrifices I made for this family go to waste.
As I thought about it, a plan began to form in my mind.
His lips were a warm, firm pressure against my own. His eyes were open slits, enough to look closed from a distance, but open enough to watch me watching him right back. “What are you doing?” hissed, pulling my head back as I struggled against his steel-tight grip. “How is this going to help?!” But Dr. Clark didn’t budge. “If you want to save your reputation and his, trust me.” Trust him? After this? “Are you kidding me I…” Taking the opportunity my open, arguing mouth presented him with, Andrew seized my mouth with his, deepening the kiss. My body responded to the unexpected embrace and despite myself, I found myself leaning into him, welcoming his touch. I’ve been so stressed, so tense, that this felt like a much needed release, one I couldn’t get from Misha. A release I shouldn’t be getting from Andrew either. He’s not even my friend–he’s just my annoying, arrogant colleague. Besides, he has a beautiful girlfriend. Just as the first wave of guilt washed over me, everything sh
A quick train ride to Columbia had me sitting in a booth waiting for a serving of greasy hamburgers and fries to be placed in front of me. Allison, who had written to confirm that she was on her way, was running late from a meeting she had to attend. Her company, Starbright Productions, has been dealing with complicated legal issues after a story recently broke about unethical contract practices–something about leaked contracts and poached talent. Right now, the issue is more of a PR nightmare than anything else, but it has already begun affecting sales. She explained this to me over the phone in a quick rush of words, but I had a hard time following--finance has never been my strong suit. She needed someone who not only knew her, but could understand what she’s going through. And that, was where I hoped Josh would come in. We both met Josh at Columbia through shared classes. Like Allison, he had a sharp financial mind, and if he hadn’t pursued his career as a professional ath
Even though I had said it was a bad idea, even after I explained my thinking and he agreed to give me time to think, Misha decided to take things into his own hands and started the adoption process for an infant.And he called it a ‘surprise’--Like he was giving me a present. Did he expect me to feel happy about his attempt to trap me, and some sweet, innocent child, in a situation that would just make everyone miserable. Was he really so desperate to keep me anchored to him? Why? He already has a baby on the way. Why is he clinging to me so tightly? The paperwork was creasing as I clenched the paper with my fists. This contract was more like a small book, but I insisted on reading over it carefully. I needed to know what game Misha was playing.Because that's what this is--a game. Either Misha, or Julia, or possibly both of them was trying to play me and I wasn't signing a goddamned thing.So sitting there, I carefully read each clause of the contract trying to find the hidden catc
When I reached my quiet, now empty penthouse, the silence was peaceful, enhanced by the knowledge that nobody would disturb me. I wouldn’t need to lock myself in the bedroom tonight, because Misha would be blessedly absent for the next full week. Before I woke up to his nonsense, I’d have been sad, maybe even a bit heartbroken. Tonight, I simply felt relieved. As I opened the door, my body shook with the need for food and sleep. Finally free to let my guard down, I stumbled inside, falling over the doorway, and barely closing the door before I landed hard on my knees on the smooth, cool tiles of my entryway. It hurt, but so did everything else as I took a moment to catch my breath. Sitting there on the cold floor, I scanned the room. The kitchen was a mess, evidence of a meal having been made and enjoyed, the dishes still in the sink, crumbs scattered on the counter. Two empty wine glasses, one red with residue from Misha’s favorite cabernet, the other half full of sparkling a
Who would try to hurt me? Not just hurt me, possibly kill me? I can think of a handful of people who don’t like me, might even want to see less of me, but taking it to the point of causing me bodily harm–Nobody. As much as Julia doesn’t like me, she isn’t the kind of person to want to see me poisoned–if she did, she could have done so by now.I told the officer as much and she shrugged, writing something in her notebook before handing me her card. “Call the station if you think of anything. We’ll keep this case open for now.” “Thank you,” I shook the officer’s hand. “I’ll contact you if anything comes up regarding this incident.” An hour later, once the doctors were satisfied with my hydration level, I was released into Dr. Clark’s care. Taking his job seriously, he tucked me into a wheelchair, covering me from shoulder to knee with hospital blankets, before wheeling me like a well-packaged vase. “You don’t have to do this,” I insisted as he rolled me to a nearby bench. “I’m m
[Ariana]For the second time in the last week, I woke up in a hospital bed. At least this time it wasn’t my own fault. As I open my eyes, I groan, turning to the side. And that's when I see him--A tall man hunched in a small chair, his blonde curls falling forward as he leaned over his hands. “Dr…Dr. Clark?”At the sound of his name he looked up, and when his gray-eyed gaze met mine, the faintest smile tugged the corner of his lips. “Welcome back, Ariana. Thank goodness you’re okay.”“Dr. Clark, not that I’m not glad to see you,” grimacing, I attempted to sit up. “But what are you doing here?” His smile twisted into a smirk. “Saving you. I…” he paused, his brief flash of amusement falling from his eyes as he said. “I am so sorry.” “Why would you be sorry?” my eyebrows scrunched as I gazed at this confusing man. “I handed you the soup,” he interrupted me. “I didn’t know, Ariana.” He leaned forward, taking my hand and pressing it between his palms. “I..I hope you know I would neve







