Chapter 6

The next morning, Adelia walked out of the spare bedroom. She had showered and changed into a cheap, ill-fitting navy blue skirt suit she found in the back of her old closet.

To hide the thick bandages on the soles of her feet, she forced her swollen feet into a pair of flat, black loafers. Every step sent a dull throb up her calves.

She left the Brooklyn apartment, swiped her MetroCard, and rode the train back into Manhattan. She walked to a high-end law firm located right next to City Hall.

She approached the sleek marble reception desk. She gave the receptionist her name and appointment time.

The receptionist looked up. Her eyes slowly scanned Adelia's cheap suit and scuffed shoes. Her lips pressed into a thin, judgmental line. She pointed a manicured finger toward a glass-walled conference room at the end of the hall.

Adelia walked into the massive, brightly lit room. The air conditioning was freezing. She sat down on a stiff leather sofa and stared at the digital clock on the wall, waiting for Dominic to arrive and authorize the final filing of their divorce.

The minutes dragged on. The digital numbers flipped. Thirty minutes passed beyond their scheduled time. The heavy glass door remained firmly shut.

Through the transparent walls, Adelia could see several junior lawyers and paralegals walking by. They paused, looked at her sitting alone, and whispered to each other. Their faces held naked amusement and mockery.

Adelia locked her knees together. She placed her hands flat on her lap, digging her fingernails into the cheap fabric of her skirt. She forced her spine to remain perfectly straight, refusing to slouch under their stares.

Finally, the glass door swung open.

It wasn't Dominic. It was Fed Cardenas, his executive assistant.

Fed walked to the opposite side of the long mahogany table. He looked down at Adelia with his usual robotic, emotionless expression.

He spoke in a crisp, professional tone. He informed her that Mr. Thompson had to take an emergency flight to Seattle for an unexpected acquisition. He would not be authorizing the filing today.

Adelia's jaw clenched. She knew exactly what Apex Holdings' portfolio looked like. Dominic had absolutely zero business interests in Seattle. This was a deliberate, malicious lie.

She took a slow breath, forcing her heart rate to steady. She asked Fed exactly when his boss would return.

Fed pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. He stated that the CEO's itinerary was highly classified. He told her to go home and wait for a phone call.

Adelia understood the game perfectly. Dominic was using his absolute power to suspend her in mid-air. He wanted to cut off her resources and watch her panic. He was enjoying the cat-and-mouse torture.

She stood up. The pain in her feet flared, but she ignored it. She looked directly into Fed's eyes.

She told him to pass a message to his boss. She said she would wait as long as it took to finalize the divorce, and she told Fed to advise Dominic to stop hiding like a coward.

Fed's eyebrows twitched slightly. He was clearly shocked by her aggressive tone, but he quickly recovered his blank mask. He extended his arm toward the door, silently asking her to leave.

Adelia walked out of the law firm. The harsh mid-morning sun blinded her for a second. She stood on the sidewalk, watching the endless stream of luxury black cars and men in tailored suits rushing past her.

She reached into the pocket of her skirt. Her fingers brushed against a few crumpled dollar bills. It was barely enough to buy a sandwich in this zip code.

Her stomach let out a loud, painful rumble. The physical reality of her poverty crashed down on her shoulders like a lead weight.

She gritted her teeth and walked down the block until she found a small, dingy corner cafe. She pushed the door open, walked to the counter, and ordered the cheapest black coffee on the menu.

She found a small table in the back corner. She pulled out her phone and connected to the cafe's free, unsecured WiFi.

She opened the job portal and began frantically scrolling through listings for executive assistants and translators in the financial district.

She submitted her resume to dozens of top-tier firms. Almost instantly, automated rejection emails flooded her inbox. The algorithms flagged her three-year employment gap and tossed her application out.

Adelia didn't stop. She changed her strategy. She relied on her memory of Dominic's competitors. She searched for aggressive, newly established investment firms that desperately needed multi-lingual staff to handle overseas expansion.

She tailored her cover letters, subtly hinting at her deep knowledge of international contract structures-knowledge she gained from reading Dominic's files late at night.

Her thumbs flew across the cracked screen of her phone. She fired off fifteen highly targeted applications.

She took the last sip of her cold, bitter coffee. She looked at her tired, pale reflection in the dark window glass.

Just as she picked up her bag to leave, her phone vibrated violently against the table.

The screen lit up with an unknown Manhattan landline number.

Adelia's heart slammed against her ribs. She cleared her throat, swiped the screen, and answered with a perfectly modulated, professional greeting.

A woman on the other end identified herself as an HR director for a Wall Street investment firm. She told Adelia to come to their headquarters for a final interview at two o'clock that afternoon.