5: The Architect of Ruin

The phone rang exactly three times before Alexander picked up.

My hand was steady. I wasn't shaking from fear anymore. I was shaking because for the first time in years, the air in my lungs felt real. The image of the bedroom, of Grace’s bored face and Daniel’s naked rage, was stuck in my head, but it didn't hurt. It felt like fuel.

“Hannah?” Alexander said. He didn’t sound surprised. He sounded alert. “Are you okay? You sound like you’re standing in the middle of a storm.”

“I saw them,” I said. My voice didn't break. It was hard, like a stone. “I saw everything. I need to talk to you. Now.”

There was no hesitation. No annoying questions.

“Name the place,” he said. “I’m leaving my office.”

I chose a small bistro on the edge of the city. It was the kind of place Daniel always called "pointless" because it wasn't a place where he could show off. When I got there, Alexander was already in a corner booth. He looked up the second I walked in, and for the first time, a man didn't look at me like I was a piece of furniture.

He stood up. It wasn't a show. It was a reflex.

“Sit,” he said. His eyes went over my face, checking for cracks.

I slid into the booth and didn't reach for the water. I didn't need an anchor. I needed a plan. I told him everything. I told him about the promotions Daniel blocked, the "fragile" label he pinned on me, the pills, the bank accounts I couldn't touch, and the child asleep on the couch while Daniel was busy with my cousin.

Alexander didn't move. He didn't look at his phone. He just listened until I was done.

“And who is he?” Alexander asked. His jaw was so tight I thought his teeth might crack. “Who is the man who thinks he can treat a person like a ghost?”

I looked him straight in the eyes.

“Daniel Vance,” I said. “Your Senior Project Manager.”

Alexander went still. Not the kind of still where someone is shocked. It was the kind of still that happens right before a building is knocked down.

“Vance,” he said. He leaned back, his eyes darkening. “Daniel Vance.”

“Yes.”

“He spends every day in my office talking about loyalty,” Alexander said, his voice was dropping. “He’s been begging for the Director role. He acts like he’s the most disciplined man in the building.”

“He hid me,” I told him. “He made sure I never showed up to company dinners. He told me I was too shy, too messy. Most of your staff probably doesn't even know he has a wife.”

Alexander let out a short, sharp breath. “He wanted to keep you small so he could stay big. It’s a coward’s move.”

“I was a lead negotiator before I met him,” I said. I felt my spine straighten. “I wasn't weak. I wasn't confused. I didn't need a keeper.”

“I can see that,” Alexander said. He leaned forward, his elbows were now on the table. “He thinks you’re a background detail. He thinks he can just swap you out for your cousin and you’ll go quietly into the night.”

“He’s wrong.”

“Then let’s prove it,” Alexander said. “I need a Head of Operations. I need someone who knows how to spot a lie and handle a manipulator. Someone who understands exactly how Daniel Vance thinks.”

I stared at him. The air in the bistro felt electric. “You’d put me over him.”

“I’d put you in a position where he has to ask your permission to breathe,” Alexander said.

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Alexander... I’m still married to him.”

“On paper,” he shot back. “But he’s already replaced you in his head. Why wait for a judge to tell you you’re free?”

He watched me for a long second. “I need something else, too. My parents are coming to town. The board is pushing me about the merger gala. They want to see a stable man with a partner who can hold her own.”

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend,” I said. It wasn't a question.

“For two months,” Alexander said. “Just until the gala. It gives you a reason to be at every meeting. It gives you a reason to be in his face every single day while you dismantle his career from the inside.”

I thought about the grey sweaters. I thought about the brown blouse and the way Grace looked at me like I was a bug.

“Two months,” I repeated.

“Two months. By the time we’re done, he won't just lose his job. He’ll lose the version of himself he’s spent years building.”

I didn't hesitate. “Deal.”

The next few hours were a blur, but a sharp one. Alexander took me to a boutique that didn't have a single "sensible" thing in it. He didn't pick the clothes; he just stood back and watched as I picked silk blazers and heels that felt like weapons.

Then we went to a salon. The stylist looked at my blunt, dead hair and sighed.

“We can’t make it long overnight,” she said.

“Don't make it long,” Alexander said from the chair behind me. “Make it sharp. Make it look like it belongs to a woman who doesn't take orders.”

When I looked in the mirror, I didn't see the ghost anymore. My hair was a sleek, angled bob that hit my jaw like a blade. My eyes looked darker, colder.

Alexander walked me to my car. “Go home. Let him play his games. Let him think he’s still the boss of that house.”

I got home just as the sun was going down.

The door slammed five minutes later. Daniel marched in, throwing his briefcase on the floor like he was the king of the world.

“You’ve really messed up this time,” he snapped, not even looking at me. “Following me? Acting like a lunatic? You’re lucky I don't have you committed, Hannah.”

I stood by the counter, holding a cup of tea, watching him.

“Grace and Samuel are moving in this weekend,” he continued, pacing the floor. “I’m done hiding them. You’re going to help her pack. You’re going to be helpful for once in your life, or I’ll make sure you leave this house with nothing but the rags on your back.”

He finally stopped and turned to look at me.

He froze.

His eyes went from my new, sharp hair down to the silk dress that cost more than his car payment. He looked at my face, looking for the tears, the shaking, the begging. He didn't find them.

“What did you do to your hair?” he demanded. His voice was high, shaky. “Where did you get those clothes? Who do you think you are?”

I took a slow sip of my tea and smiled. It was the first real smile I’d had in three years.

“Don't worry about it, Daniel,” I said. “I’m just being sensible.”

I walked past hi

m, my shoulder brushed his, and I didn't look back.