Chapter 8

"I will not apologize," Dessie repeated, her voice steady and strong. "I have done nothing wrong. And I will be pressing charges against every single person who laid a hand on me today."

She turned to her mentor. "Elek, please call the police."

A wave of panic went through the crowd. Some of the attackers looked toward Chanel, who was now looking decidedly less smug.

"Dessie, let' s not be hasty," Chanel said, stepping forward with a look of fake concern. "These are our colleagues. It was just a misunderstanding. We can work this out."

"A misunderstanding?" Dessie' s laugh was sharp and brittle. "Would you call it a misunderstanding if they were throwing rocks at your head, Chanel?"

Chanel' s face flushed. She opened her mouth to speak, but Craig cut her off.

"That' s enough!" he barked at the crowd. "Everyone, disperse! Go back to work!"

He tried to take control of the situation, but Dessie wasn't finished.

"No," she said, her voice cutting through his. "They are not going anywhere until the police arrive."

Elek nodded grimly and pulled out his phone.

Dessie, leaning on Elek for support, walked away from the scene, leaving Craig and Chanel to face the consequences of the mob they had created.

At the small company clinic, a nurse cleaned and bandaged the cut on her forehead. Elek sat beside her, his expression grim.

"That man is a fool," Elek said, shaking his head. "I don' t understand why you don' t just tell everyone the truth. That you were his wife first."

Dessie sighed. "What' s the point, Elek? My marriage certificate is a fake. The state records have been altered. It would be my word against theirs. They' d just paint me as an even crazier, more obsessive ex-colleague."

She looked out the window. "He' s not my husband anymore. It doesn' t matter."

Elek sighed, recognizing the finality in her tone. "Well, your new assignment is all set. The transport I arranged will be here in an hour. It will take you directly to the Chimera facility. Your things have already been packed and sent ahead from your house."

"Thank you, Elek," she said, a wave of gratitude washing over her. "For everything."

For the first time in months, she felt a flicker of hope. She was escaping.

Later, as she was waiting in the clinic, Craig walked in alone. He looked tired and defeated.

"How' s your head?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"It' s fine," she said, not looking at him. The fake concern made her stomach turn.

"Dessie, I' m sorry about what happened," he said, sitting in the chair beside her. "I didn' t know they would go that far."

He sighed. "This promotion, my return to the city... it' s so important. I just need you to be patient. I know I' ve asked a lot of you..."

He was still playing the same tune. Still asking for her sacrifice, her silence.

"Chanel is sorry, too," he added.

"Are you apologizing on her behalf?" Dessie asked, her voice dangerously soft. "As her husband?"

He flinched. "That' s not what I meant."

"Save it, Craig," she said, standing up. "I' m tired of your lies."

He stood up too, a desperate look on his face. "Just... just one more thing. Those notebooks of yours. The ones with all your architectural notes and algorithms for the new system."

Dessie stared at him, aghast.

"Chanel is trying to get up to speed," he explained, a shameful flush creeping up his neck. "She needs to show she' s competent. If she had your notes, it would help her a lot. It would help me a lot."

The audacity of it. The sheer, parasitic nerve. He had taken her life, her reputation, and now he wanted to take the fruits of her labor, her very intellect, and hand them to the woman who had replaced her.

She looked at him, at his desperate, pleading face, and a cold, hard decision formed in her mind.

"Fine," she said. "You can have them."

A look of immense relief washed over his face. "Thank you, Dessie. Thank you. I' ll come by to pick them up from you later tonight."

"No," she said. "I' ll leave them on the nightstand. You can get them tomorrow."

He nodded eagerly, like a dog promised a treat, and hurried away, no doubt to give Chanel the good news.

Dessie leaned back against the wall, her heart a cold, heavy stone.

An hour later, the car Elek had sent arrived. It was a discreet black sedan. She got in without looking back.

As the car pulled away from the clinic, away from the company, away from the town that held so much pain, she finally allowed herself a single tear. It wasn' t a tear of sadness. It was a tear of release.

She was free.

Meanwhile, Craig, bursting with his victory, went to the hospital to tell Chanel the good news about the notebooks. He found her room empty.

He rushed to the nurse' s station. "Where is the patient from this room? Chanel Murphy?"

"Oh, her?" the nurse said, her tone dismissive. "She checked out hours ago. There was nothing wrong with her."