I should have known Matt would find a way to ruin this for me. I let myself believe that job was mine because I earned it, because I’m fucking awesome at what I do. I should have known he’d have connections anywhere in New York I tried to go. His network runslike an underground power grid. No matter how far I run, he’s still behind me, pulling all the strings and making it look easy.
I stop in front of a storefront window as I wait for the crosswalk sign to flash. In my reflection, I look put together. A perfectly tailored suit. Lipstick pristine. Not a hair out of place. But inside? Inside I’m unraveling.
I look to my right, and there it is.
His face.
Hissmug fucking face.
Plastered across a sports magazine in a vending box. His sparkling, disingenuous blue eyes. His eager, carefully practiced smirk. Some headline about how he’s the next big thing in sports journalism. He’s everywhere, like a ghost that refuses to rest, and I can’t escape him. He’s on the front page of every newspaper, on every television.
How did I never see this before? Was I truly this blind? How did I not see him for who he was? My mind trails back to the beginning of our relationship, when his charm felt genuine, not calculated. When his confidence was magnetic, not suffocating. It felt like he was the only person in the world who understood me, and I felt like the only person in the world who really mattered to him. But now I realize he designed it that way. He knew what to say to make me feel lucky.
He put me on a pedestal until I was there alone, cut off from anyone who would point out his flaws. But now I can replay memories in my head, moments that are glaringly obvious now, but seemingly innocent before. Little hints of sharpness in his voice if I didn’t answer a call fast enough, or the voice of someone else was in the background. The way he’d plant little seeds of doubt in my mind about my friends and their true intentions toward me.
And as angry as I am at him, I’m angry at myself, too. I’m a smart woman. Well educated. But I let myself believe every lie he told me. Ilet myself become the version of me he wanted. Weak. Gullible. I let myself believe that the treatment I got from him was what I deserved, and I was lucky to receive it.
I didn’t see the truth for a long time—too long, even. But I see it now.
I glance back at the magazine, his face still staring back at me like a ghost.
I walked away from a dream job because it meant playing by his rules. And I realize it now—New York isn’t big enough for the both of us.
I have to get the hell out of here.
“He put in a reference for me, Mom. Aglowingone, like he’s taking credit for how good I am at what I do.” Mom sits across from me in a high-top chair at the bar. She met me for lunch after my interview. It was supposed to be celebratory, but now she just listens to me rant.
“It’s ridiculous,” I continue, “he’s acting like he discovered me. Like he’s my biggest supporter and not the reason I turned it down.”
Mom sighs as if she’s choosing her next words carefully. “And there’s no way to—”
“No,” I say firmly, shooting her a look. “I can’t, Mom.” I want to earn my own life, not shrink myself to fit into the one he creates for me. I won’t trade one gilded cage for another.
Mom sips her drink, slow and thoughtful. “But the reference was good?”
“It’s not about the reference. It’s the fact that heknew. I’ve kept my job search quiet. I haven’t told anyone. But he knew what I was doing.He’s watching me. He probably sent references to every firm in New York, just to show me he has the reach. Just to show me I can’t get anywhere without him.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. I hate that I’ve let him do this to me. “I can’t keep looking over my shoulder, Mom.”
“So don’t,” she says matter-of-factly. Mom understands the world I work in. She’s a successful marketing executive, having worked her way up in a male-dominated world.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s not,” she agrees, “but it’s worth it. You don’t need him, Addison. You never did. You’re brilliant, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother. I know what you’re capable of. If you don’t want to work for a company where he’s pulling the strings, then don’t. Pull your own strings.”
I blink. “What?”
She leans in, a sly smile playing on her lips. “What I mean is—you don’t need anyone to hand you a seat at their table. Build your own goddamn table.”
“You mean… start my own firm?”
“Exactly,” she says, nodding like it’s the most obvious answer. “Take this back for yourself. Be your own boss. Set your own boundaries. Don’t let him take one more thing from you.”
“Start my own firm,” I mumble out loud, letting the words savor in my mouth and settle into my chest. “I don’t know. I’d have to start completely over. Find clients, office space, build a reputation from the ground up.”
Mom smiles at me. “But you’re considering it.”
“I don’t know. Maybe? There’s a lot to think about.”
“It’s one step at a time,” she says. “And you already have your first client, so that’s a start.”
