Chương 6
“What kind of problems?”
“I thought they were temporary.”
“That is not an answer.”
He rubbed his face.
I could hear the movement through the phone.
“Cash flow issues.”
“How long?”
“About a year.”
I closed my eyes.
A year.
A year of dinners.
A year of vacations.
A year of pretending.
“Did you know she was moving money?”
“No.”
“Did you suspect?”
“Yes.”
I nodded even though he could not see me.
“At least that’s honest.”
“I should have done something.”
“Yes.”
“I was scared.”
That stopped me.
Not because it excused him.
Because it was the first time he admitted something real.
“What were you scared of?”
“That everything I built would collapse.”
I looked at the laptop on the table.
“That was the thing you were protecting.”
“Yes.”
“Not me.”
He did not answer.
The absence of an answer was enough.
We ended the call without deciding anything.
No promises.
No forgiveness.
No dramatic goodbye.
Just two people sitting on opposite sides of a disaster they had both helped create in different ways.
That night, I barely slept.
At three in the morning, I heard rain against the window.
I walked to the kitchen and made coffee even though I knew I would regret it later.
I stood there drinking it from a mug I bought at a convenience store because I had not unpacked my dishes.
The coffee was terrible.
Too bitter.
Too strong.
I drank the entire cup anyway.
The next morning, Rachel called.
“Linda hired an attorney.”
I sat down.
“Already?”
“She moved quickly.”
“What does she want?”
“To control the narrative.”
“How?”
“She is claiming the assault accusation is retaliation because you discovered financial disagreements.”
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“She’s saying I made it up?”
“Yes.”
I laughed quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because I should have expected it.
“She always does that.”
“What?”
“Turns every problem into something someone else caused.”
Rachel was silent for a moment.
“That pattern may matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“If this becomes a legal matter, behavior patterns and credibility can become important.”
I looked at my bruised hands.
The marks had started fading.
That bothered me.
I wanted proof that matched what happened.
I wanted the outside to show what the inside already knew.
“What about the company?”
Rachel sighed.
“That is more complicated.”
“How?”
“Because your husband is still the owner.”
I looked at the rain sliding down the window.
“Even if he was manipulated?”
“Yes.”
“Even if Linda caused it?”
“Yes.”
The world was always more complicated than the stories people told themselves.
There was no magical moment where truth appeared and everything became fair.
There were documents.
Meetings.
Arguments.
Costs.
Consequences.
“Rachel.”
“Yes?”
“I want to know everything.”
“Are you sure?”
I looked around the apartment.
At the suitcase still sitting open.
At the life I had not rebuilt yet.
“Yes.”
“Then we start with the bank records.”
I opened my laptop.
“And after that?”
Rachel paused.
“After that, we find out whether Ryan is someone who made mistakes.”
“And?”
“Or someone who made choices.”
I stared at the screen as the first file loaded.
For the first time since leaving, I was not waiting for someone else to decide what happened next.
I was choosing to find out.
I was choosing to find out.
The first thing I discovered was that the company records were messier than I expected.
Not because the numbers were complicated.
Numbers were usually the easy part.
It was the people around them that made everything difficult.
I spent most of the morning building a timeline.
Not an emotional one.
A financial one.
Dates.
Transfers.
Approvals.
Invoices.
Names.
Every piece had to sit somewhere.
Every missing piece mattered.
By noon, I had identified twelve payments connected to questionable vendors.
By one, that number became eighteen.
By two, I stopped being surprised.
That scared me more than the money itself.
I had gotten used to bad news.
I did not want to become someone who could look at betrayal and feel nothing.
My laptop was still open when Melissa called.
“You sound like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
I smiled faintly.
She had always been direct.
Even when I was younger, she was the person who told me when my hair looked terrible before a job interview.
She believed honesty was kinder than pretending.
“I’m working.”
“On what?”
I hesitated.
That was the problem with telling people the truth.
Once they knew, they became part of the situation.
“I’m trying to understand what happened with the company.”
There was a pause.
“Emma.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I looked at the spreadsheet on my screen.
“That sounds familiar.”
“Because you do this.”
“Do what?”
“You turn pain into a project.”
The words irritated me because they were accurate.
“I’m good at this.”
“I know.”
“And I need to know the facts.”
“You also need to sleep.”
I looked at the coffee cup beside me.
“You sound like my father.”
“That’s because your father was usually right.”
I laughed quietly.
It was the first real laugh I had in days.
It surprised both of us.
“Come over tonight,” Melissa said.
“I have work.”
“Emma.”
“I need to finish this.”
“You need a shower and food.”
“I ate.”
“What?”
I looked toward the empty wrapper on the table.
“Crackers.”
“That is not food.”
“It technically is.”
“Your definition of survival is concerning.”
I smiled again.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
She paused.
“And Emma?”
“Yeah?”
“Bring the evidence if you want.”
I looked at the files.
“Why?”
“Because I know you.”
She lowered her voice.
“You’re going to sit there alone and convince yourself you’re not allowed to be upset until you understand every detail.”
I did not answer.
“Bring it,” she said.
“Let someone else sit in the room with you.”
I closed the laptop.
That was the hardest part.
Not finding the truth.
May you like
Letting someone witness what it did to me.
That evening, Melissa’s apartment smelled like garlic and laundry detergent.
