Chapter 5

The Prism Marketing Group waiting room was all glass and chrome, trying too hard to look innovative. I smoothed my navy blazer, noting how it hung looser than it had two months ago. I'd lost twelve pounds since the hospital. My therapist yes, I'd finally gone, if only to shut Janet up called it stress weight. I called it the miscarriage diet.

"Ms. Reyes?" A receptionist with a practiced smile appeared. "They're ready for you now."

I followed her through glass doors to a conference room where a middle-aged woman sat reviewing papers.

"Patricia Bolton, HR Director," she introduced herself without standing. "Please, sit."

I took the chair opposite, back straight, interview smile in place. She could do this. She'd done a hundred interviews from the other side.

"Your résumé is impressive," Patricia began, flipping pages. "Eight years at Vertex Media is no small feat. Started as a coordinator and left as a director."

"Thank you. I'm proud of my trajectory there."

"Would you describe yourself as a team player, Ms. Reyes?" Patricia's voice carried the bored efficiency of someone who asked the same questions all day.

"Absolutely," I replied, the rehearsed answer automatic. "At Vertex, I led multiple collaborative campaigns that increased client engagement by an average of thirty-two percent. My team consistently"

The door burst open with a bang. A tall man with rumpled dark hair practically fell into the room, clutching papers and a coffee mug that sloshed dangerously.

"Sorry! God, I'm sorry," he panted, dropping into a chair beside Patricia. "Creative emergency. The Bellmont pitch just crashed and burned, and Javier's demanding new concepts by the end of the day."

Patricia's tight smile conveyed professional irritation. "Ms. Reyes, this is Thomas Reid, Creative Director. He'd be your direct supervisor for this position."

"Hey, hi, yes." He extended his hand, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry to crash in like a hurricane. Please continue telling Patricia how amazing you are."

I shook his hand briefly, unsettled by his easy charm and he looked familiar. I raised my eyebrows remembering him from the club. "I was just explaining my collaborative approach."

"Oh, the Vertex campaigns." Thomas nodded enthusiastically. "I saw the Hudson River cleanup project. Brilliant targeting strategy. Was that yours?"

I blinked, surprised he knew my work. "Yes. We increased volunteer participation by forty percent."

"With zero budget increase," Thomas added. "I remember the case study. See, Patricia?" He winked at the HR director. "Told you we needed her."

Patricia cleared her throat. "Perhaps we could discuss your rather abrupt departure from Vertex? Eight years is a substantial investment to walk away from without notice."

My chest tightened. I'd practiced this answer, but it still felt like choking on glass. "Personal circumstances required my immediate attention. Those issues have been resolved."

"What kind of"

"Actually," Thomas cut in, "I'm more interested in where you want to go from here. Past is past, right? Tell me about a project you wish you could do but haven't had the chance."

The question caught me off-guard. Most interviews were about proving what I'd already done, not imagining what I could do.

"I... There's a shelter for domestic violence survivors near my apartment. They do amazing work but have zero visibility. I've always thought a targeted awareness campaign could double their funding and reach women who need help but don't know where to find it."

Thomas leaned forward, coffee forgotten. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. Heart and strategy together." He turned to Patricia. "When can she start?"

"That's not entirely your decision," Patricia said stiffly.

"Monday works for me," I said, surprising myself with my boldness.

Thomas grinned. "Perfect. We've got the Landmark Hotels pitch on Thursday and could use your fresh perspective."

"Thomas," Patricia interjected, "we haven't discussed salary or benefits yet."

"Right, right." He stood, gathering his scattered papers. "I'll let you handle the boring stuff. Daniela, really looking forward to working with you."

After he left, Patricia's professional mask slipped slightly. "Thomas is... enthusiastic. But he's brilliant at what he does."

"He seems very passionate," I offered neutrally.

"That's one word for it." Patricia pushed a folder across the table. "Our offer package. Review it, and let me know by tomorrow if the terms are acceptable."

Outside after the interview, I checked my phone. A text from Detective Ripley: "Case suspended pending new evidence. I'm sorry."

The momentary high from the interview crashed into reality. I was still staring at the message when my phone rang with an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Daniela? It's Thomas from the interview. Sorry for the ambush, got your number from your application."

Her guard immediately went up. "Yes?"

"Team's going for drinks Friday night at Bellwether on the 22nd. Thought you might want to meet everyone before Monday. No pressure, just a chance to get the awkward introductions out of the way in a relaxed setting."

"Drinks?" My voice sounded strangled even to her ears.

"Or not drinks," he backpedaled quickly. "Coffee? Lunch? Interpretive dance session?"

The joke fell flat in my ears. My last "drinks" outing had ended with a hospital stay and a police report. "I don't think"

"Listen," his voice softened, "starting somewhere new is tough. Just thought it might help to know some friendly faces when you walk in on Monday. But totally up to you."

"I'll think about it," I said finally, already knowing I wouldn't go.

“Thanks for the ride the other day”

“Oh, you remember, Great! Text me either way. And Daniela? Looking forward to working with you."

I hung up, my hands trembling slightly. His friendliness felt dangerous, a trap I'd fallen into before. The last charming man I'd trusted had destroyed her life. I quickened my pace, suddenly certain I was being followed, scanning faces on the street for Alex's features.

When I got home, Janet was waiting outside her apartment.

"You missed your therapy appointment," Janet said, arms crossed.

"I had a job interview." I pushed past her to unlock the door.

"Which you conveniently scheduled at the same time."

"It worked out. I got the job."

Janet's anger dissolved into a smile. "Dani, that's fantastic!"

Inside, I shared the offer details while Janet made coffee. For a moment, it felt almost normal, like before. Then Janet asked the question:

"Have you heard anything from the detective?"

The fragile bubble of normalcy burst. "Case suspended. Insufficient evidence."

"That bastard." Janet's face flushed with anger. "After what he did to you"

"I don't want to talk about it." I pulled out her laptop. "I need to review this offer letter."

Later, after Janet left, I sat in the dark, the contract signed but not yet sent. A new beginning. But I couldn't shake the feeling that no matter where I went, the shadow of what had happened would follow me