Chapter 8 - The Missing Files

“Ma’am, are you back at the office?”

I looked up. It was Ethan’s personal assistant, the one who had seen me with Cole’s name on my phone and run straight to Ethan with the story. He had been keeping an eye on me for months, always one step behind me, always smiling.

“What does it look like to you?” I lifted the paper bag in my hand. “Oh, and I’m here to deliver food.”

He laughed awkwardly. “Of course, ma’am. No, I was just happy to see you.”

I scoffed inwardly. Happy to watch my moves, more like. His eyes slid past me toward Ethan’s door and back again, a very small movement. I noticed it anyway.

“Fine,” I said sweetly. “We’ll see about that.”

He hurried off, and a moment later I heard his chair creak, the sound of a man settling in to report.

I walked into my office and shut the door. I had been away for months, ever since the miscarriage that nearly took my life. I had spent weeks in a hospital bed learning to breathe without crying, while Ethan sat beside me holding my hand and checking his phone.

I was the financial manager of his company. I had worked beside him from the beginning, and I was one of the reasons the whole place was still standing. And he wanted to erase me. I would thank him for the motivation later, in a way he would not enjoy.

I pulled out the files and went through them one by one. Most of them were exactly where I had left them. A few folders were gone, and the gaps on the shelf looked like missing teeth.

We had driven in together that morning, so I knew exactly where he was. I crossed the corridor and let myself into his office. He looked up from his laptop and put on the smile he saved for me, warm and perfectly rehearsed.

“Honey, what brings you here?”

“Oh, nothing much.” I smiled back. “I noticed some of my files were missing. Did you happen to take them?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Yes, that was me. I thought you wouldn’t need them while you were recovering.”

“I do need them. They’re finance files.”

He stood, came around the desk and took my hand in both of his. “Honey, don’t you trust me?”

I nearly choked on my own saliva. Trust him? I would rather ride a speeding train blindfolded than trust a man like him.

But I looked into his eyes and nodded.

“Good.” He squeezed my fingers. “I’m only doing it for your health.”

Then he kissed me on the lips and walked me to the door as if I were made of glass, one hand at the small of my back.

I excused myself to the bathroom, ran the tap and watched my reflection as I scrubbed every trace of him from my mouth. How long was I going to keep this up? He loved those kisses. He had no idea what they were costing me.

I went back to my desk. He had taken my files because he was starting to lose control of me, and he knew it. I scoffed, then worked all day until my eyes burned. Three times the assistant walked past my glass wall, slowly, pretending to read his phone. Twice Ethan messaged to ask whether I needed anything. I answered with a heart emoji and kept going.

At closing time, I told him to go home without me. He pleaded with me to wait, offering to drive me, bring dinner, or stay. Behind the pleading, I could see the real story. He was desperate to go and meet Vanessa. And the two of them would be sour about my I*******m post. Normally, she would have left a comment, a heart at the very least. This time, she had not even liked it.

Haha. It was even better than I had imagined.

By seven, the floor was empty. The cleaners had come and gone, and their trolley had rattled away down the far corridor and fallen silent. I took the spare key out of my bag, crossed the dark corridor and let myself into Ethan’s office.

I needed those documents back as quickly as possible. I might leave him one day, but those files were my backbone, and I was not about to leave them in his hands. I held my phone’s torch low against my leg and listened for a long moment at the door. Then I searched his desk and found nothing. I checked the shelves and the cabinet. Nothing. He did not know I was coming, and yet he had hidden them well.

Then I tried the bottom drawer, I saw sleeping pills .

What was his obsession with them?

I pushed that question aside. On top of the pile, I found my reports, the ones I had written myself, with my initials still on the cover. I pulled them out and held them against my chest. Boom. Found you.

They still had the coffee ring I had left on page three, the night before I lost the baby. It was almost sweet, how carefully he had kept them.

I was reaching for the next folder when I heard footsteps in the corridor.

I froze. Had Ethan come back? What would I say? That I was only here for a pen? I quickly returned the reports to the drawer, but before I could close it, I heard the footsteps getting closer. I stepped away from the desk and stood in the middle of his office with my heart pounding, waiting for the worst. The drawer was still half-open. My fingerprints were on every folder. There was no story I could tell that Ethan would believe.

The door opened, and a tall figure stood against the light of the corridor, tie loosened, jaw tight, one hand still on the handle. I saw who it was.

I was shocked, and I was relieved, in the same breath.

“Cole?” I managed. “What are you doing here?”