CH 13

Monday morning arrived like a punishment I already earned. I stood in front of the mirror for twenty minutes debating whether to call in sick. The bruises had darkened overnight-left eye socket a deep violet-black, lid so swollen I could barely open it, lip scabbed and cracked, jaw mottled purple. Heavy concealer helped, but only from the right angle. From the left I looked like I had lost a fight with a brick wall.

 

I did lose a fight. It just wasn't a fair one.

 

I wasn't going to let him have it So I dressed.

 

The orange dress Mateo had bought me-silk blend, fitted through the waist, flared at the hips-felt like armor and betrayal at the same time. I paired it with the nude heels I already owned, pulled my long waves forward to curtain the damaged side, and layered more makeup until the worst was muted. Not perfect. But passable if no one looked too close.

 

I clocked in late. The lobby was quiet. Elevator ride felt endless.

 

Then the doors opened on the tenth floor and Aisha stepped in.

 

She looked flawless-tailored cream blazer, high-waisted trousers, gold hoop earrings catching the light, shoulders back like she owned every inch of the building. Confidence radiated off her in waves. My stomach twisted. Ethan 's words echoed: "He fucked her too." 

 

"Morning, Bell," she said brightly.

 

I forced a smile. The movement pulled at my split lip. Pain flared. I angled my body so the left side stayed shadowed.

 

"So..." Aisha started, tilting her head. "You okay?"

 

"Fine," I said too quickly. "Just tired."

 

Her gaze lingered on the right side of my face-the side I couldn't fully hide. She frowned.

 

"Did something happen to your-"

 

"No," I cut in. Stepped back half a pace. "I'm good."

 

She didn't push. Just nodded slowly.

 

"This Thursday is my birthday," she said after a beat. "I'm throwing a party. Black theme. You should come."

 

I blinked. The invitation felt like a lifeline and a trap at once.

 

"Sounds fun," I managed. "Dress code?"

 

"Anything black. Whatever makes you feel good." She smiled-warm, genuine. "Please come."

 

The elevator dinged on her floor. She stepped out, glanced back.

 

"Think about it, okay?"

 

The doors closed. I exhaled hard. Leaned against the wall. Aisha's kindness felt real. But so did the doubt Ethan planted. Had Mateo touched her? Kissed her the way he kissed me? Fucked her until she shook? Was i her replacement? Would someone soon replace me?

 

"Get yourself together, Bell. He isn't your man." 

 

Yet the word 'yet' lingered like a promise I wasn't sure I should want.

 

My office felt smaller today. I dropped into the chair, opened my laptop, stared at the screen without seeing it. The makeup felt thick and fake. My head throbbed. Every time I moved, the bruises pulled.

 

The phone rang-an unknown number.

 

I hesitated. Then answered.

 

"You fucking blocked me and threw my gift in the trash!"

 

Ethan 's voice cracked through the speaker like a whip.

 

I flinched. Whole body tensed. Looked around the empty office like he might be standing behind me. How the heck did he know I threw out his gift?

 

"You know no one will ever love you like I do," he snarled. "No one will want to manage you. No one would stand out for hours to see the maintenance guy laughing at my gift from the trash"

 

The words sliced. My lips quivered. Tears burned behind my eyes.

 

"Please leave me alone," I whispered. "I don't know what you want from me."

 

"You're a bitch and you know it!"

 

I pulled the phone away. Ended the call. Hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped it.

 

The tears came anyway-hot, fast, ruining the concealer I'd spent an hour applying. I rushed to the dispenser. Filled a cup. Spilled half of it. Drank the rest in gulps. The cold shocked my split lip.

 

The phone rang again. Same number.

 

I let it go to voicemail. It buzzed with a text.

 

I shouldn't have opened it. But I did.

 

**You BITCH! I hate when you act like you're special! You should know your place. You're not even my taste but I fucking want to help you. I want you and I OWN you, Isabella . If not for me you wouldn't have survived college.**

 

My chest caved. Breath caught. I stared at the words until they blurred.

 

The phone rang again.

 

This time I answered-rage overriding fear.

 

"You're an asshole, Ethan," I spat. "You ass-licking spineless dick!!"

 

Silence. Then a low, dangerous laugh.

 

"I stayed with you in college," I continued, voice shaking but loud. "Respected you. Loved your cheating ass. Never talked back because you'd hit me. You're a shameless bully. Face someone your size."

 

He started yelling. I didn't listen. Just kept going.

 

"I had to pretend you were good in bed so you wouldn't feel small. You were pathetic. You still are. Those orgasms, the one that made you feel good? Yeah? Yeah–i faked all of it."

 

"I'll kill you," he hissed.

 

"If you come near me I'll call the police."

 

I ended the call. Blocked the number. Hands trembling. Chest heaving.

 

For the first time in years I felt... powerful. Small. But powerful.

 

I wiped my face. Fixed what makeup I could. Pulled my hair forward again. Settled back into the chair. Opened a movie. Let the noise drown everything else.

 

Two hours later a knock.

 

I froze.

 

"Come in."

 

Aisha walked through the door carrying a paper bag-chicken nuggets, fries, soda. She set it on my desk without asking. Sat in the guest chair. Looked straight at me.

 

"Two years ago my ex used to hit me," she said quietly. "Control me. Remind me every day I was Black and dirty and worthless."

 

My throat closed. I didn't tell her anything.

 

"I had a best friend who didn't speak up," she continued. "She's dead now because she stayed silent." Her voice cracked. "I saw what Ethan did to you Friday at the water dispenser."

 

I stared. Couldn't speak.

 

"If he's the one who hurt you..." She leaned forward. "We do something about it. Together."

 

Tears spilled again. I didn't hide them. Was she suggesting we kill him and chop his body? 

 

Truth be told, I would love that.

 

Aisha stood. Walked around the desk. Pulled me into a hug. I buried my face in her shoulder. She held me while I shook.

 

When I finally pulled back she smiled-small, fierce.

 

"You have us. Me and you 'Us'" she said. "You don't have to stay quiet."

 

She left the food. Left the door open a crack.

 

I ate slowly. Smiling through tears. Feeling-for the first time in years-like I wasn't completely alone. She saw me. She saw the real me and I couldn't tell how good I felt. 

 

My phone rang.

 

Mateo.

 

I swallowed the last nugget. Wiped my hands. Answered with a mouth full.

 

"Hello, Sir," I mumbled, swallowing fast. "Sorry-I had food. I shouldn't eat in the office-"

 

"I know," he interrupted. Voice low. Calm. "Just don't do it again. We have a cafeteria for a reason."

 

The hairs on my neck stood up. "I know." 

 

"I won't be around for a few days," he continued. "You still have cash. Don't walk late. And..."

 

He switched to video.

 

I panicked. Turned the camera away fast-showing only the wall.

 

"Hey," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. "Move the camera, Angioletto."

 

My stomach flipped at the nickname. Heat bloomed low despite everything.

 

"You don't want me to see your work face?" he teased.

 

I laughed-weak, shaky. Kept the lens pointed at the ceiling.

 

"Work face isn't cute today, Sir... bad network maybe?"

 

I flashed the camera at my face for half a second-long enough he might catch the edge of the bruise-then ended the call. Switched to flight mode.

 

Heart pounding. He hadn't seen enough. Not yet. But soon he would.

 

And then I'd have to decide how much truth I could give him before everything shattered.