The room went very still.
"A woman named Diane. A kindergarten teacher. She was crossing the street on a Tuesday night and Tobias was drunk behind the wheel." My voice sounded far away, like it was coming from the other side of a window. "She survived. Barely. His family's lawyers made it disappear. Money, NDAs, pressure. All of it gone before sunrise."
"Oh my God."
"I found out by accident. A file on his desk I wasn't supposed to see." I swallowed hard. "I told him I was going to the police."
Miley's grip on my hand tightened.
"And then he destroyed me."
I told her the rest. Not all of it in full sentences. Some of it came out in pieces, fragments that didn't connect cleanly because that's how it lived in my head. The phone calls to every gallery, every client, every contact I'd spent years building. Blacklisted overnight. My name pulled from exhibitions I'd been invited to. My portfolio scrubbed from websites. Messages filling my phone from people who suddenly couldn't work with me.Sorry, it's just not a good fit anymore.The same sentence, overand over, from people who'd hung my photographs on their walls a month earlier.
The friends who chose his side because his side came with money and access and mine came with nothing.
"I packed two suitcases," I said. "Drove out of Charlotte in the middle of the night because staying meant being erased completely, and I still had just enough of myself left to know that I deserved to exist somewhere."
Miley pulled me into a hug so tight I couldn't breathe. I didn't care. I needed someone to hold me together, and she'd been doing that since the day I showed up at her door with those two suitcases and no explanation she ever demanded.
"I’m going to break his legs," she said into my hair. "I mean it. I’m going to find Tobias Hart and I’m going to break his legs with my bare hands."
"Miley."
"I’m serious. I’ll go to prison. I don’t care. They have libraries in prison. I’ll read."
I laughed, wet and broken. "This is why I can’t feel anything for Jace. The last powerful man I trusted destroyed me. I can’t do it again. I can’t survive it again."
Miley held me tighter. I pulled away after a while, wiped my face, and told her I was going to bed. Then I remembered.
"Hey." I turned back. "Could you please grab my purse from the hallway. I almost forgot. I got you a present tonight."
Miley wiped her own eyes, confused, and went to get the clutch. She brought it back and I unzipped it and pulled out the cocktail napkin. Held it up.
To Miley. Your friend has excellent taste. And a small star next to it. Signed, by the superstar actor, Christopher Vale.
The sound that came out of Miley’s body was not human. It exited through her mouth at a frequency that made the neighbor’s dog start barking through the wall. She grabbed thenapkin with both hands and stared at it like it was a holy relic. Her eyes were streaming and five seconds ago she’d been crying about my trauma and now she was crying about a cocktail napkin signed by a movie star.
"I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ANNA!"
So much for the woman who was going to break someone's legs for me. Christopher Vale’s autograph and she forgot all about my pain. I loved her for it. The normalcy of it. The silliness. The way life can be horrible and wonderful in the same breath if you let it.
Monday morning. I arrived at the office before seven. The floor was empty, or I thought it was. I needed a file from Jace’s office, something the legal team had requested Friday and I’d forgotten to pull before the weekend. His door was unlocked. I slipped in.
His laptop was open on the desk with the screen glowing.
I shouldn’t look. I knew I shouldn’t look. Looking at your boss’s open laptop was a violation of about twelve professional boundaries and probably several actual laws.
I looked.
A message thread with Miles that read:
Jace
Seems like my assistant is becoming my next little obsession.
I read it again. My eyes kept going back to the message. Or rather messages. There was one from just this morning, judging from the time stamp. It had been less than five minutes.
Jace
