Chapter 6

I stare at my reflection in the elevator's mirrored wall, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. My eyes have changed, a wariness that wasn't there before Alex pushed me down those stairs. My hand absently touches my stomach, still flat, still empty.

"Sixth floor," I whisper to myself, adjusting the collar of my navy blazer. The one Janet insisted I buy yesterday, saying I needed something that made me feel powerful.

The elevator dings, and I take a deep breath as the doors slide open. The Prism Marketing group spreads before me, open-concept with glass-walled offices lining the perimeter. People bustle between desks, coffee cups in hand, laughter punctuating the low hum of productivity. It feels like stepping into a world where terrible things don't happen, where husbands don't push their wives downstairs and babies don't die before they're born.

"You must be Daniela." A young woman with a bright smile approaches. "I'm Zoe, office manager and your designated welcome wagon."

She extends her hand, and I take it, grateful for the warm greeting. "Thank you. Yes, I'm Daniela Reyes."

"Thomas asked me to give you the grand tour before the morning meeting." She gestures around the expansive space. "Ready to meet your new work family?"

Family. The word catches in my chest, but I nod anyway.

Zoe leads me through the maze of desks, introducing me to a blur of faces and names. "This is our creative pit," she says, sweeping her arm toward a cluster of desks where designers huddle around monitors. "And accounting is in that corner, avoid them until after the 15th of each month, trust me."

I smile despite my nerves. "Noted."

"Digital team is over there," she continues, pointing to another section. "And here's your desk."

My desk sits in a small cluster with three others. It's clean, ready for me to make it my own. A small welcome card sits propped against the monitor.

"The card's from all of us," Zoe explains. "We're excited to have you. Thomas said your portfolio was impressive."

I picked up the card, touched by the simple gesture. Inside, various signatures and welcome messages from people I haven't even met yet.

"Morning meeting is in ten," Zoe says, checking her watch. "Conference room B. I'll come get you."

Left alone, I set down my purse and took a few steadying breaths. I can do this. This job is my lifeline, my chance to rebuild. I arrange the few personal items I've brought: a small plant, a framed photo of Janet and me from college, a ceramic mug that reads "Begin Again."

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Probably Janet checking in. I pull it out, but the name on the screen makes my stomach drop.

Alex.

My fingers tremble as I open the message.

Looking professional today. Blue suits you. Always did.

I glance around, panic rising in my throat. How does he know what I'm wearing? I scan the office, searching for his face, even though I know he couldn't have gotten past security.

Another text arrives.

You think you can leave and start over? Everything you have is because of me. Don't forget that.

My breathing becomes shallow. I turn off my phone and shove it deep into my purse, willing my hands to stop shaking. This is exactly what he wants to throw me off balance on my first day.

"You okay?"

I look up to find a man standing beside my desk, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine," I say quickly, straightening my blazer. "Just first-day nerves."

Thomas studies me with kind eyes that see too much. "First days are tough. But you're going to do great." He offers a reassuring smile. "Ready for the morning meeting?"

I nod, grateful he doesn't push further.

The conference room fills quickly with people clutching coffee mugs and notebooks. Thomas takes his place at the head of the table, his presence commanding attention without demanding it. I slip into an empty chair, trying to blend in.

"Morning, everyone," Thomas begins. "Before we dive into client updates, I want to introduce our newest team member, Daniela Reyes. She's joining us as a senior executive."

All eyes turn to me, and I manage a small wave.

"Daniela comes to us with impressive experience from Vertex Agency," Thomas continues. "She'll work primarily on the Lumina Beauty account and the Harper Hotels rebranding."

A woman across the table raises her eyebrows. Harper Hotels? Bold move, throwing the newbie into Madison's territory."

"Madison's on maternity leave for three months," Thomas replies evenly. "And Daniela's background makes her perfect for the account."

"No pressure," someone whispers, and a few people chuckle.

Thomas moves on to project updates, and I try to focus, but Alex's text message keeps intruding. How did he know what I was wearing? Is he having me followed?

"Daniela?"

I look up to find Thomas watching me expectantly. Everyone else is staring, too.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?" Heat crawls up my neck.

"I asked if you'd like to share your initial thoughts on the Harper Hotels campaign."

I haven't even seen the brief yet, but I force myself to sound confident. "Without reviewing the materials, I'd need to reserve judgment. But I'm familiar with their current positioning in the market, and I think there's an opportunity to elevate their brand story beyond the generic luxury experience they're currently selling."

Thomas nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Casey will bring you up to speed after the meeting."

The meeting continues, and I make notes, trying to absorb the agency dynamics. There's Casey, the account manager, who rolls her eyes whenever someone named Brandon speaks. Marcus, the art director who sketches continuously while offering brilliant insights. And Thomas, who somehow manages to be both authoritative and approachable, steers the conversation with practiced ease.

When the meeting ends, people scatter back to their desks. I stand to leave, but Thomas gestures for me to stay.

"You seemed distracted," he says once we're alone. Not accusatory, just observant.

"I'm sorry about that. It won't happen again."

He leans against the table. "That's not what I'm concerned about. Is everything okay?"

I consider lying, saying everything's fine. But something about his genuine concern breaks through my defenses.

"My ex-husband texted me," I admit. "He somehow knew what I was wearing today."

Thomas's expression hardens. "That's concerning. Do you feel unsafe?"

"No," I say quickly, then reconsider. "Maybe. I don't know. He's just trying to rattle me."

"Successfully, it seems."

I look away. "I'm sorry if it affected my performance."

"Daniela," Thomas says gently, "I'm not worried about your performance. I'm worried about you."

His sincerity catches me off guard. It's been so long since someone besides Janet has genuinely cared about my well-being.

"I'll be fine," I say, though I'm not entirely convinced myself. "It's just part of the divorce process."

Thomas doesn't look convinced either. "Intimidation shouldn't be part of any process. If you need to take steps to ensure your safety, the company will support you."

"Thank you," I say, genuinely touched. "But I need this job. I need normal."

He nods in understanding. "Normal it is, then. Casey's waiting to brief you on Harper Hotels."

As I turn to leave, he adds, "But Daniela? If normal becomes impossible, my door is always open."

I spend the rest of the morning with Casey, a sharp-witted account manager who walks me through the Harper Hotels rebrand. We sit in a small meeting room, spreading materials across the table.

"Madison's been territorial about this account," Casey says, sliding a folder toward me. "But between us, her concepts were falling flat."

"So no pressure," I say wryly.

Casey laughs. "Major pressure. But Thomas wouldn't have put you on it if he didn't think you could handle it." She taps a market research report. The client meeting is in two weeks. Think you can have fresh concepts by then?"

I flip through the report, ideas already forming. "Absolutely."

"Good." Casey gathers her things. "Lunch is at twelve-thirty. We usually go as a group to the deli downstairs. You should join."

When Casey leaves, I throw myself into the work, grateful for the distraction. The more I read about Harper Hotels, the more excited I become about the creative possibilities. For the first time in months, I feel like myself again, the self that existed before Alex started chipping away at my confidence.

At twelve-thirty, Zoe appears at my desk. "Lunch time. You coming?"

"I should probably keep working," I begin, but Zoe shakes her head.

"Nope. First day tradition. You have to come."

Reluctantly, I follow her to the elevator, where several others are waiting, including Marcus, the quiet art director.

"How's the first day going?" he asks as we descend.

"Good," I say. "Overwhelming, but good."

"Harper Hotels is a big account," he observes. "Thomas must think highly of your work."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes again. I ignore it, but it buzzes three more times in quick succession. My heart races as I pull it out.

Four new messages from Alex.

Enjoying your new friends?

Wonder what they'd think if they knew the truth about you.

You think you can replace me that easily?

Don't forget who you belong to.

I stare at the screen, my hands trembling so badly I nearly drop the phone.

"Daniela?" Marcus's voice sounds far away. "Are you okay?"

I don't answer. Can't answer. The elevator feels too small, too confining. When the doors open, I push past everyone.

"I need some air," I manage to say, heading for the building's entrance.

Outside, I gulp in deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heart. I lean against the building's cool stone exterior, closing my eyes.

"Hey."

I open my eyes to find Thomas standing beside me, concern etched on his face.

"Zoe said you might need some company," he explains. "Or privacy. I can leave if you prefer."

I should say yes, send him away, maintain professional boundaries. Instead, I show him my phone, the string of messages still displayed.

Thomas reads them, his expression darkening. "This isn't normal divorce behavior, Daniela. This is harassment."

"I know," I whisper. "I just don't know what to do. The police said they can't do anything unless he makes direct threats."

"Have you considered a restraining order?"

I laugh hollowly. "Alex has friends in the police department, in the courts. He'd make it a nightmare." I take back my phone, shoving it into my pocket. "I'm sorry. This isn't your problem."

"Look," Thomas says, his voice gentle but firm, "I don't normally get involved in my employees' personal lives. But what you're describing isn't okay. And it's affecting you at work, which makes it partly my problem."

"I'll handle it," I insist. "I won't let it impact my work again."

Thomas gives me a long look. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying you shouldn't have to handle it alone."

Something in his words breaks through the walls I've built. For months, I've felt so isolated, so utterly alone in my struggle. Even Janet, as supportive as she's been, can't truly understand what I'm going through.

"I don't know how to make him stop," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You start by not letting him isolate you," Thomas says. "Abusers thrive on isolation."

I look up sharply. "I never said he was abusive."

Thomas's expression is gentle. "You didn't have to."

We stand in silence for a moment, the city moving around us.

"I should get back to work," I finally say.

"What about lunch?"

"I'm not hungry anymore."

Thomas nods in understanding. "I'll walk back up with you."

As we head inside, he says, "For what it's worth, I think you're handling this with remarkable strength. Not everyone could start a new job while dealing with what you're facing."

His words warm something inside me that's been cold for too long. "Thank you for saying that."

Back at my desk, I find a small box waiting for me. Inside is a sleek new phone case with a note attached: "From the IT department. Company policy for new employees. Has built-in security features. Stop by after work for setup."

I look around, confused, until I spot Thomas watching from his office. He gives me a small nod before turning back to his computer.

The gesture is small, professional, and appropriate, but it feels like throwing a drowning person a lifeline. For the first time since the fall, since losing the baby I didn't know I was carrying, I feel a flicker of hope.

I might be broken, but maybe, just maybe, I can begin again.

As I turn to my computer, determination settles in my chest. Alex may have taken many things from me, but he won't take this. Not my fresh start, not my chance to rebuild.

The Harper Hotels file beckons, and I dive in, allowing the work to sweep me away from my fears. By the end of the day, I've outlined three potential campaign directions and scheduled meetings with the design team.

As everyone begins to leave, Thomas stops by my desk. "How was the rest of your first day?"

"Better," I say truthfully. "Much better."

"Good." He smiles, and it reaches his eyes. "See you tomorrow, Daniela."

I watch him leave, struck by the simple normalcy of the exchange. In this moment, I'm not a victim or a survivor. I'm just Daniela Reyes, a senior executive, having a brief conversation with her boss at the end of a workday.

It's not much. But it's a beginning.

And right now, a beginning is everything.