11: The View From The Top

Hannah's POV.

"Eat your breakfast, Hannah. You need to clear your head before the lawyers get here."

Daniel didn't look at me when he spoke. He was sitting at the kitchen island, his face was pale and his eyes rimmed with red. He looked like he hadn't slept a second. Across from him, Grace was nursing a cup of coffee, her hair was messy and her expression sour. Samuel was playing with a piece of toast in his high chair, the only person in the room who didn't look like they were part of a train wreck.

I stood at the top of the stairs, watching them. They looked so small from up here. For three years, I had walked down these steps feeling like a guest in my own home, always checking my reflection to make sure I wasn't too loud, too bright, or too much.

Not today.

I had spent an hour getting ready. I went into the back of the closet and pulled out a dress I’d bought in secret months ago...a deep navy silk that fit perfectly. I did my makeup. I did my hair. I looked like the woman I was before Daniel convinced me I was broken.

I started down the stairs. The click of my heels on the wood was sharp. It was the only sound in the house.

Daniel’s head snapped up. Grace dropped her spoon, the metal clattering against the tile. They both stared at me like I was a ghost.

"What are you wearing?" Daniel asked. His voice was flat, but I saw his grip tighten on his iPad. "We have a lot to settle today, Hannah. You shouldn't be dressing up to go sit in a park. It’s a bit much, don't you think?"

I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. I didn't look at the breakfast he’d put out. Probably more of those "herbal mixes" hidden in the eggs.

"I'm not going to a park, Daniel," I said. My voice was steady. It felt good. "And I’m not sitting around waiting for your lawyers."

Grace snorted, though her eyes were darting toward my face, trying to find a crack in my mask. "Look at you. You think a nice dress changes the fact that you’re a mess? You were crying on the floor the day before yesterday. Now you’re playing dress-up? It’s pathetic, really."

I turned to her. I didn't get angry. I just looked at her until she shifted in her seat. "The only pathetic thing in this room, Grace, is a woman who thinks stealing a husband is a promotion. How are your parents doing? Did you call them this morning to check if they’ve been audited yet?"

Her face went white. She looked at Daniel, her lower lip trembling. "Daniel, make her stop. She’s being crazy again."

Daniel stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He walked over to me, trying to use his height to crowd me against the counter. It was his favorite move. He wanted me to look up at him, to feel the size of him, to remember that he was the one with the paycheck and the title.

"Hannah, listen to me," he said, his voice was dropping into that fake, caring tone. "Yesterday was a shock. I get it. But you’re acting out because you’re scared. You have no money. You have no career. You haven't worked in years. You’re a liability. If you walk out that door looking like this, people are going to laugh at you. Stay here. Let me handle the transition. I can get you a good settlement if you just stay quiet."

I looked at his tie. It was slightly crooked. I reached up, and for a second, he thought I was going to fix it. He leaned in, a smug look starting to form on his face.

I grabbed the tie and pulled it hard, jerking his face down to mine.

"I'm done with your transitions, Daniel," I hissed. "And I’m done with your 'care.' You didn't protect me. You caged me. You drugged me. You think I’m a liability? I’m the biggest threat you’ve ever faced."

I shoved him back. He stumbled, his eyes wide with shock. He had never seen me move like that. He’d never seen me touch him with anything but fear or affection.

"I'm going to work," I said.

Daniel laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "Work? At Mercer? Hannah, I’m a Senior Manager. You’re a woman who can’t even remember to take her vitamins. You think you can just walk into that building? Security won't even let you past the lobby. Alexander was being nice to you yesterday because he felt sorry for you. He’s a businessman, not a charity. He doesn't want your drama."

"We'll see," I said.

I grabbed my bag and walked toward the front door. I didn't look back. I could hear Daniel’s heavy footsteps following me. He was shouting now, his voice rising in that way that used to make me want to hide under the bed.

"Hannah! Stop! You’re making a fool of yourself! Get back in here! You’re going to lose everything if you keep this up!"

I pushed open the front door and stepped out onto the porch. The morning air was fresh, and for the first time in three years, it didn't feel like I was breathing through a filter.

Daniel followed me out, standing on the porch, his face twisted in a mask of pure condescension. "Where are you going? The bus stop? You don't even have your car keys, I took them last night for your own safety!"

I didn't answer. I just looked at the curb.

The black SUV was still there. It looked like a beast lounging in the sun. The engine turned over with a deep, powerful growl that seemed to vibrate in the soles of my shoes.

The driver’s side door opened. Alexander Mercer stepped out.

He didn't look tired. He looked like he was made of granite. He was wearing a fresh suit, charcoal grey, and he looked every bit the man who owned half the skyline. He didn't look at Daniel. He only looked at me.

I walked down the driveway. Every step felt like I was shedding a layer of the old, broken Hannah.

Daniel’s voice died in his throat. I heard him stumble as he came down the porch steps, his shoes hitting the pavement with a frantic, uneven rhythm.

"Mr. Mercer?" Daniel’s voice was suddenly small. It was thin and reeked of desperation. "Sir? What... what are you doing here?"

Alexander didn't answer him. He walked around to the passenger side of the SUV and opened the door. He held it open with one hand, his eyes never leaving mine. A small, almost invisible smile played at the corner of his mouth.

"You're late, Daniel," Alexander said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried across the yard like a physical weight.

Daniel stopped about ten feet away, his hands shaking at his sides. "I... I was just... Hannah isn't feeling well, sir. She’s having an episode. I was trying to get her back inside. I'm so sorry you had to see this."

Alexander finally turned his head. He looked at Daniel like he was a bug he was considering stepping on. "An episode? She looks perfectly fine to me. In fact, she looks like the most capable person in this zip code."

"Sir, you don't understand..."

"I understand everything, Daniel," Alexander cut him off. He stepped closer to Daniel, his presence so massive that my husband actually took a step back. "I suggest you find your own way to the office. And don't bother coming to the morning briefing. You're no longer on the schedule."

Daniel’s mouth fell open. He looked from Alexander to me, his eyes darting back and forth like he was trapped. "But... the quarterly reports... I'm the lead on the..."

"Not anymore," Alexander said.

He turned back to me and gestured toward the seat. "Shall we, Hannah?"

I climbed into the car. The interior smelled like expensive leather and cedar. It felt like a sanctuary. Alexander closed the door with a solid thud and walked back around to the driver’s side.

As he got in and pulled away from the curb, I looked in the side mirror.

Daniel was standing in the middle of the street. He looked small. He looked messy. He looked like the ghost now. Grace had come out onto the porch, clutching Samuel, her face full of a new kind of terror as she watched the most powerful man in the city drive away with the woman they thought they’d buried.

Alexander shifted gears, his hand moving with a smooth, practiced ease. He didn't look at the road for a second; he looked at me.

"You did well," he said.

"I told them I'd burn the forest down," I whispered. My heart was racing, but it felt like a good race. A winning one.

Alexander reached over and placed his hand on the center console, right next to mine. He didn't touch me, but I could feel the heat coming off him. It felt like a promise.

"The forest is already gone, Hannah," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Now, we’re going to build something on the ashes. Are you ready to take his office?"

I looked out the window at the tall glass towers ahead of us. I wasn't the girl in the grey sweater anymore. I was the architect of what came next.

"I’m ready," I said. "Let's go."