Chapter 2 - The Ghost of the Woman I Used to Be
The car moved through the streets of Boston like a ghost passing through a living body.
Everything looked the same,
yet everything was fundamentally altered.
The shops on Newbury Street were still there,
their windows gleaming with luxury goods I no longer desired.
The people on the sidewalks were rushing,
their faces buried in their phones,
unaware of the woman watching them from the shadows of a tinted window.
Julian drove in silence.
He knew better than to fill the air with empty platitudes.
He knew that my mind was a battlefield.
I leaned my head against the glass.
I kept seeing December 17,
2021.
It was a loop in my brain.
The sound of the key in the lock.
The silence of the apartment.
The way the hallway seemed to stretch,
longer and darker than I remembered.
I could still feel the weight of the Rolex box in my bag.
It had been a heavy,
expensive weight.
A weight of love.
A weight of trust.
I remembered the way my heart had been beating with excitement.
I had imagined Michael’s face.
I had imagined him pulling me into his arms and telling me he loved me.
Instead,
I found the wreckage.
“They’re still together,”
Julian said suddenly,
breaking the silence.
I didn't need to ask who 'they' were.
“I know,”
I said.
“I saw the news clippings you sent.”
“They got married a year ago.”
“In the house I paid for.”
“With the money I earned.”
Julian’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“They told the press you were unstable.”
“They said Michael had been trying to leave you for years.”
“They said Rachel was his ‘saving grace’ from your temper.”
A cold,
sharp laugh escaped my throat.
It sounded like glass breaking.
“A saving grace,”
I repeated.
“Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“Adultery is such a clumsy word,
I suppose.”
I looked at the sunflowers sitting on my lap.
One of the petals had fallen off.
It lay on my gray prison-release slacks like a drop of gold.
“How is the company?”
I asked.
“Lane & Associates?”
Julian hesitated.
“It’s just ‘Lane Group’ now.”
“Michael is the CEO.”
“Rachel is the Head of Marketing.”
“They rebranded everything,
Evelyn.”
“They erased your name from the letterhead.”
“They erased your face from the history of the firm.”
I closed my eyes.
I could feel the anger rising,
not as a hot flash,
but as a steady,
freezing tide.
They hadn't just taken my freedom.
They had stolen my identity.
They had taken the years of late nights,
the sweat,
the tears,
and the brilliant deals I had brokered,
and they had put their names on them.
“He was always better at the social side,”
I whispered.
“I was the one who did the math.”
“I was the one who understood the market.”
“He was just the face.”
“And now he has a new face to stand beside him.”
Julian turned the car into a private driveway in Beacon Hill.
It was a townhouse I didn't recognize.
“This isn't your place,”
I said.
“No,”
he replied.
“I bought this for you.”
“Two years ago.”
“I knew you’d need a base of operations.”
“A place where they couldn't find you.”
I looked at the elegant brick facade.
It looked like a fortress.
“Why,
Julian?”
“Why do all of this for a woman who might be broken beyond repair?”
He parked the car and turned to look at me.
The sunlight hit his face,
revealing the scars of his own battles.
“Because three years ago,
you were the best in the business,”
he said.
“And because I want to see what you’ll do to them when you have nothing left to lose.”
I looked at my hands again.
I wasn't just Evelyn Lane anymore.
I was the storm that was coming for them.
“Everything,”
May you like
I said.
“I’m going to take everything.”
