Chapter 8 No.8

She sat up and saw a garment bag hanging on the closet door. A note was pinned to it in elegant cursive script.

Armor up. - B

She unzipped the bag. Inside was a white power suit-Tom Ford, tailored to perfection. It wasn't a dress. It was a statement. It was the kind of suit a woman wore when she was about to buy a company, or destroy one.

She dressed, the fabric feeling like a second skin. She walked out into the hallway.

The door at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar. It was her old bedroom. The one she had locked the day she left for the city to marry Adam.

She pushed the door open.

She gasped.

It was exactly as she had left it. Ten years ago.

The posters of DNA helixes were still on the wall. Her textbooks were stacked on the desk in the same precarious pile. A dried rose from her high school graduation was still in the vase. There was no dust. Not a speck.

"I gave Alfred strict instructions," a voice said from behind her.

Jessye turned. Benedict stood there, holding two mugs of coffee. He looked fresh, awake, dangerous.

"You kept it?" Jessye asked, walking into the room. She touched the spine of a biology textbook. "Why? I told you I was never coming back."

"You lied," Benedict said simply. He walked in and placed the coffee on the desk. "Or you were lying to yourself. I knew you'd return. You are a scientist, Jessye. You can't live in a world of variables and chaos forever. You need the truth."

"This isn't just truth," she said, looking around. "This is... a shrine."

"It's a placeholder," Benedict corrected. He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze intense. "I bought the maintenance rights to the estate from your family trust the day you got engaged. I didn't want strangers living in your history."

Jessye felt a flush rise to her cheeks. "That's... excessive."

"That's loyalty," he said.

He walked over to the desk and picked up a piece of paper that Jessye had left there the night before. It was the court filing for the divorce.

"He hasn't signed it," Benedict noted, reading the legal jargon.

"He thinks he can starve me out," Jessye said, taking a sip of coffee. "He thinks I'll run out of money and come back begging."

Benedict dropped the paper. He stepped closer to her. He was close enough that she could smell the sandalwood of his aftershave. He placed his hands on the edge of the desk, effectively trapping her between his arms and the wood. He didn't touch her, but his presence was surrounding her.

"Let him think that," Benedict murmured. "It will make the fall harder."

He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "If he doesn't sign, Jessye, I have lawyers who make his legal team look like paralegals. I will strip Payne Corp down to the copper wiring in the walls if I have to."

Jessye's heart raced. It wasn't fear. It was the thrill of being protected by a predator.

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'd burn the city down for you," he said. The playfulness was gone. His eyes were dark, serious.

Suddenly, a buzzer sounded throughout the house. A red light flashed on the wall panel.

Intercom: Sir. We have a vehicle at the main gate. Unauthorized. It's a silver Bentley.

Benedict straightened up, the moment broken but the tension remaining. He walked to the window and looked out.

"Speak of the devil," he said, a cold smile touching his lips. "Adam found us."

Jessye went to the window. Down the long driveway, past the manicured lawns, a silver car was stopped at the massive iron gates. A man was standing outside the car, arguing with the intercom box. Even from this distance, she recognized the frantic, jerky movements of Adam.

"He traced the IP," Jessye said. "I let him."

"Good girl," Benedict said. He pressed the button on the wall. "Captain Miller? Status."

Miller (Security): Subject is Adam Payne. He is demanding entry. He is... agitated.

"Hold him there," Benedict ordered. "Do not open the gate. Initiate Protocol Zero."

"Protocol Zero?" Jessye asked.

"Total denial," Benedict said. He turned to her. "Do not go down there. You don't want to see him."

Jessye looked at the man at the gate. The man who had shredded her divorce papers. The man who didn't know his son's allergies.

"No," she said. "I don't want to see him. I want him to see me."

"Understood." Benedict pressed a button on the console. A bank of monitors on the wall flickered to life. One showed the high-definition feed from the gate camera.

Adam's face filled the screen. He looked disheveled. His tie was loose. He was shouting at the camera.

"I know she's in there! Open this damn gate! I am her husband!"

Benedict looked at Jessye. "Shall we handle this?"

Jessye nodded. She walked to the console and pressed the 'Talk' button.

At the gate, Adam was sweating. The sea breeze was cold, but he was burning up. He had driven three hours like a maniac.

Four men in black tactical gear stepped out of the guardhouse. They didn't look like rent-a-cops. They looked like special forces. They stood in a line, blocking the gate, arms crossed over their chests.

"Get out of my way!" Adam yelled. "Do you know who I am? I'm Adam Payne! I'm the CEO of Payne Corp!"

The lead guard, a man with a scar running through his eyebrow, stepped forward. "Mr. Payne. You are trespassing on private property. Turn around."

"I'm not trespassing! My wife is in there!" Adam pointed at the house. "Jessye! Come out!"

He grabbed the bars of the gate and shook them. "Jessye! Josh needs you! I... I need the key!"

The intercom crackled.

"Go home, Adam."

The voice stopped him cold. It was Jessye. But it sounded different. It was amplified, distorted slightly by the speaker, but mostly, it was devoid of warmth.

"Jessye!" Adam shouted at the camera lens. "Baby, please. Stop this game. The stock is crashing. Josh is in the hospital. We need to talk."

"There is nothing to talk about," the voice replied. "My lawyers sent you the terms."

"I'm not signing those!" Adam spat. "You're my wife. You belong at home."

"Look at the tablet, Adam," Jessye said.

The lead guard held up an iPad. He thrust it through the bars of the gate, right in front of Adam's face.

It displayed the resident registry for the Haley Estate.

Resident: Jessye Haley.

Status: MARRIAGE VOID.

User Note: "Widowed in spirit."

Adam stared at the word. The letters seemed to swim.

"Widowed?" he choked out. "I'm not dead!"

"To me, you are," Jessye's voice came through the speaker, ice-cold. "The man I married died the moment he chose his public image over his son's safety. You are a ghost, Adam. And ghosts don't get entry."

"You can't do this!" Adam reached through the bars, trying to grab the tablet.

The guard moved with blurring speed. He grabbed Adam's wrist, twisted it, and shoved him back. Adam stumbled, falling onto the gravel.

"Physical contact initiated," the guard said into his headset. "Permission to remove?"

"Granted," Benedict's voice came over the speaker now. Deep. Mocking.

Two guards stepped forward. They grabbed Adam by the arms.

"Get off me!" Adam screamed, kicking out. "I'll sue you! I'll buy this whole damn property and bulldoze it!"

They dragged him to his car. They didn't throw him; they just deposited him firmly against the driver's side door.

"Leave, Mr. Payne," the lead guard said, his hand resting on the taser at his belt. "Or the next ride is in a police cruiser."

Adam scrambled up. He looked at the camera. He saw the red light blinking. He knew she was watching.

He adjusted his jacket, trying to regain some dignity, but it was gone. He looked at the word Widowed burned into his mind.

He got into the Bentley. He slammed the door. He reversed aggressively, tires spinning on the gravel, and sped away.

Inside the library, Jessye watched the car disappear. She let out a long breath.

Benedict placed a hand on her shoulder. "He's gone."

"He'll be at the Summit tomorrow," Jessye said. "He won't give up."

"Neither will we," Benedict said. "But tomorrow, you won't be behind a gate. You'll be on a stage. And he will be in the audience, looking up."

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