3: The Boss's Boss

"Watch out!"

The shout came from nowhere. Then came the screech. It was the kind of sound that sets your teeth on edge...rubber burning against hot road. I didn't move. I just stood there, my feet were heavy on the ground, watching the front of a black car stop so close I could feel the heat coming off the engine.

The driver’s door flew open. A man got out. He didn't just walk; he moved like he was in a hurry to save someone. He was tall, wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than our house.

"Are you trying to die today?" he snapped. His voice was loud, vibrating with anger and worry.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. My knees just gave up. I hit the rough concrete of the curb, the impact jarring my bones. I put my face in my hands. The brown blouse Daniel made me wear felt like it was choking me. The top button I’d ripped off earlier was gone, leaving the fabric flapping against my chest like a broken wing. I just started crying. Not the quiet, pretty crying Daniel liked. This was loud. This was ugly.

"Hey. Hey, look at me." The man was right there, crouching down on the sidewalk next to me. He didn't grab me, which I was glad for, but he was close. "Breathe, okay? Just try to breathe. You’re shaking all over."

"He took it," I choked out. The words felt like rocks in my throat. "He took my body. He took the kids I never got to have. He took everything and called it a favor."

The man didn't move. He went quiet for a second. I looked up. My hair was a mess, chopped off and lifeless, hanging in my eyes. He wasn't looking at me like I was a burden. He didn't have that look Daniel always gave me...that pity that felt more like a slap. This man looked mad. Really mad.

"The guy who did this," he said, his voice deep and hard. "He’s a piece of work. I don't need the whole story to see that. A woman doesn't end up sitting on a curb like this because of a small mistake."

I let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "You don't even know who I am."

"I know a bully when I see what they leave behind," he said.

I don't know why, but the dam just broke. I told him. I told this stranger everything. I told him about the white pills Daniel hid in the bathroom for three years. I told him about the red dress my cousin wore and the little boy with the dimple in his chin that looked just like the man I called my husband. I told him how Daniel told me I was 'too small' for the life he really wanted.

He just sat there and listened. He didn't tell me I was being crazy. He didn't look at his phone. Every time I told him about another lie, I saw his jaw get tight.

"You aren't alone," he said when I finally stopped to catch my breath. "And you aren't going back to that house tonight just to be pushed around. You deserve way better than this."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card. It was thick, cream-colored, with gold letters. "My name is Alexander. If you need a lawyer, or a place to stay, or just someone to talk to who isn't trying to trick you... call me. Any time."

He helped me into his car. It was quiet inside. It smelled like leather and wood, not like the lemon cleaner Daniel used to hide the smell of his secrets. He drove me back to my building without asking a million questions. When we pulled up, he looked at me.

"You’re a lot stronger than you feel right now, Hannah. Don't let that guy tell you you're the one who's wrong. He's the one who's broken, not you."

I watched his car disappear around the corner. My hands were still shaking as I walked into the lobby. I looked down at the card. My thumb went over the gold letters, feeling the bumps on the paper.

Alexander Mercer.

CEO, Mercer Global.

I stopped breathing. The lobby felt like it was spinning. I knew that name. I had seen it on the letters Daniel left on the kitchen table. I had heard Daniel’s voice change whenever that name came up...he would get all nervous and jumpy, trying so hard to be perfect for "Mr. Mercer."

This wasn't just some guy who stopped to help. This was Daniel’s boss. The man Daniel spent every day trying to impress. The man who could take away Daniel’s job, his money, and his fancy reputation with one phone call.

I looked at the card again. For the last three years, I felt like a ghost haunting my own house. I felt like I didn't have a voice or a choice. But now, holding this bit of paper, I felt something else.

I felt like I was holding a match, and Daniel’s whole fake life was made of dry wood.

I walked toward the elevator. I didn't feel like crying anymore. I reached up and touched the spot where my top button used to be. Daniel thought he had won. He thought he could just throw me away and move on to his real family. He thought he had all the power because he had the money and the lawyers.

But he didn't know I had Alexander Mercer’s personal number in my pocket.

I got into the elevator and pressed the button for my floor. I wasn't going to be the "decent" wife anymore. I was done being quiet. I was done being "safe."

As the doors closed, I looked at my reflection in the metal. I looked a mess. My hair was jagged, my eyes were red, and my clothes were ugly. But for the first time in a long time, I recognized the woman looking back at me. She wasn't a ghost. She was someone who was about to start a war.

I pulled out my phone. My fingers were still a little shaky, but I didn't care. I started typing the number from the card into my contacts.

Daniel wanted a "transition." He wanted to move on to his perfect life with Grace and his son. He thought I was too sma

ll to stop him.

He was wrong.