Page 163 of Twisted Truth

I pack several days worth of clothes as well as toiletries, then I change out of my work clothes. I pause as I take in my reflection in the full length mirror in the closet. The gold earrings and necklace I wear are Langford jewelry. The ring on my finger is Asher’s. The memory of him draping me in his jewelry and making me promise him I wouldn’t wear any jewelry besides his threatens to bring tears to my eyes. It was such a perfect moment, the best of my life. But it clearly meant something very different to Asher. I take out the earrings and unclasp the necklace and set them in the jewelry case in Asher’s closet. After that day, he and I picked out the most practical jewelry and set it aside in the jewelry case for everyday wear, and he put the more ornate, antique pieces back in the safe.

My chin wobbles and one traitorous tear falls as I slip Asher’s ring off my finger. I set it in the case like I do every night. But now I don’t know when or if I’ll put it back on. Of all the arguments I’ve had with Asher, this one hurts the most. Not because it was particularly bad, but because of what itrepresents. We’re not in the same place emotionally, and if I don’t get a handle on things on my end, it’s going to break me.

My heart clenches again as I close the jewelry case and lock it. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to return, or if I even will. I have money now and can find an apartment of my own in a secure building. But I can’t think about that now. My mind is a jumbled mess and not in any state to make big decisions. What I do know is I have a plan, but I won’t be able to follow through with that plan with Asher hovering over me, and with all the hurt I feel wedged between us.

I give the ring one last look and I grab my suitcase, bag, and purse and hurry through the penthouse.

“Ms. Hale!” I hear my name called through the intercom system just as I open the front door. I ignore Jenkins’ protests and hurry across the foyer to the elevator. I rush inside and the doors close just as Jenkins and Waters get to the foyer. Jenkins has a phone to his ear and I know he’s probably calling Asher, but I don’t care.

The elevator opens to the building’s lobby, which I realize I’ve never seen before. We always exit through the underground garage, but I’m not taking one of Asher’s cars today.

“Ms. Hale,” the doorman says as I pass the front desk. “May I help you?”

I want to roll my eyes. Security probably already called down here to have him delay me.

“No thank you.”

I breeze by him and hurry out the doors. Luck is very much on my side for once, and an older couple is just exiting a cab right in front of me. I practically hurl my suitcase, laptop bag, and purse into the cab as soon as they’re out, then jump inside and slam the door.

I give the driver the name of my bank and a hotel and tell him to go quickly. We pull away from the curb just as Jenkinsand Waters burst onto the sidewalk. I let out a breath of relief. It worked. I don’t care if I’m breaking my contract right now by ghosting Asher and the security team. I need space from him and that includes his security detail.

After withdrawingan amount of cash that would have made me vomit just six weeks ago, I check into the hotel and insist that my name be kept private from all calls and inquiries. Luckily for me, this hotel caters to celebrities and other high-profile people all the time, so they’re used to these sort of privacy needs, and the concierge doesn’t question it.

Once I’m settled in my room I get to work. Asher insisted this was business, not personal. And so I will take all my emotion out of the equation, and I will get this shit taken care of. Because if there’s one thing I refuse to be anymore, it’s a pawn in the games of men.

Asher’s made it clear where he stands, and I can’t forget that.

45

ASHER/ELLA

ASHER

“Someone had better get me some fucking answers and they better get them quick!” I roar at my security team. I’m back at the penthouse and Ella is nowhere to be found. I’ve watched the video of her dashing across the penthouse with a suitcase a dozen times, and it still guts me each time. She ran. She fucking ran.

Anxiety claws at me, threatening to consume me. I don’t know where she is, and she has no security with her. Anything could happen. Worst of all, she left her cell phone here so I can’t track it. The only silver lining is she took her old cell phone so we’re working to get a trace on it. Waters managed to get the cab number that Ella climbed into from the footage of the building’s security, so he’s working to get in touch with the driver and find out where he took Ella. But so far, we haven’t been able to get through.

Matthew for once is quiet as he works. Neither he nor Emily have spoken much since Ella stormed out of my office two hours ago. They’re both working on the timeline issue with the story, but that’s the last thing on my mind. I don’t care about the goddamn story anymore. All I can focus on is the factthat Ella ran. I’m so angry and terrified that nothing else matters.

And I know I’m being irrational. Ella was outside of the building for less than thirty seconds before she got in the cab and it sped away. The paparazzi didn’t see her, and they didn’t follow her. I know that. But as someone who has been required to keep a security detail on me at all times, even in my home, for my entire life, the idea of her being out and about without security is driving me out of my mind.

I’ve called all of Ella’s friends and none of them have heard from her. But they were allveryinterested in why she fled from me. I’ve never been sworn at in Russian before and I got that lovely experience thanks to Lucya Morozov—an already cantankerous thorn in my side, and I never want to experience it again. Suffice it to say, Ella’s friends are furious with me.

And I can’t blame them, because fuck, I was such an ass.

In the moment though, I was oblivious to it. Conrad’s threat hit me hard, and I didn’t handle it well. All I was thinking about was how I can’t afford to lose my shares. It would be disastrous. Not just for me, but because of what it would mean for the company. Most of the board members don’t care about anyone but themselves and their own self interests. I can’t have them wielding any more power than they already do. I can only imagine what they would try to do if given the power. Wages would be cut, first and foremost. Theyhatethe pay demands and incentives I put into place four years ago. Then they’d go after health benefits and bonuses, and that’s just within our company and our subsidiaries. After that they’d hit the consumers. They’d do anything and everything to bring profits up to maximum levels, no matter the collateral damage.

So, in my head, I felt justified in my pressuring of Ella. I couldn’t see why she couldn’t see the bigger picture. But fuck, she wasn’t in that little impromptu meeting with Janet, Henry, and Conrad. She didn’t hear their threats. She doesn’t knowthat we have only sixty more days to prove that this PR stunt worked. And she doesn’t know what the board will do if they seize control of my shares. All she knows is that I asked her to air one of her most vulnerable moments with the world, and when she said no, I pushed back like an asshole. I always pride myself on operating without emotion, and yet that’s the opposite of what I did. I got scared and I pushed without thinking things through from Ella’s point of view.

Fuck, if anyone understands what it’s like to want to keep a story buried from the public, it’s me. I’ve hidden a story for twenty-five years, and I never intend for anyone outside my immediate family to learn about it. Not just because it might put our family at risk, but because of what that night did to me. I’ll never be the same. Ella’s situation may not have been quite as dramatic as that, but it was still awful. When she said she had pictures of the bruises Kyle left on her body, and she divulged that he had thrown her into a wall, I almost lost it. That motherfucker hurt her, and then I asked her to go blab about it to the world because the trio of assholes from the board got their panties in a twist over a story that hasn’t even broken yet.

I’m a fucking idiot.

“Sir, I just got a hold of the driver of the cab,” Waters says. “I’ll see what he has to say.”

I hold my breath and loosen my tie.

Ten minutes later we have an address and we’re out the door. I reach into my pocket and run my thumb over the ring inside it. My ring that she left behind. That won’t happen again, I’ll make sure of it. I fucked up and I’ll grovel, beg, plead—whatever I have to to get her to come back home. To get her to wear this ring.