Chapter 111
Late into the night, the dimly litw firm’s office felt like a world of its own. The phones had stopped
ringing, and the persistent hum of the fluorescent lights was the only sound that apanied my
solitude. I had been engrossed in settling a client’s domestic dispute, and it was during thesete
hours that I found myself wrestling with theplicated depths of human rtionships.
The client, Hannah, had been my focus for the past hour. Her voice, trembling with a mix of
sadness and frustration, poured through the phone as we discussed the possibilities of her divorce.
“He just won’t let me breathe, Evie,” Hannah’s words trembled, like fragile ss on the brink of
shattering. “Every moment of my life, he’s there, hovering, as if he can’t stand to be apart from me.”
I leaned forward, my brow furrowed with empathy, even though she couldn’t see me. “Hannah, I’m
here for you. Let’s talk through this. Can you tell me more about what’s been happeningst night?”
Hannah’s voice carried the weight of her emotions, a burden she had likely been carrying for a long
time. “He came home and he…my friend was just delivering the supplies that I needed for my craft
project. George, of course, he’s a guy so Bill go. really upset and started making assumptions…”
My heart ached as I listened to Hannah confess her heartbreak. She admitted to feeling suffocated
by her husband’s constant jealousy. After attempting to beat her friend Billst night, Hannah had
decided enough was enough.
“I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Hannah,” I said softly. “Let’s try to figure out the best steps
for you.”
Hannah’s sigh wasden with exhaustion. “I love him, Evie, I really do. But I need room to breathe,
to be my own person. At this point, I don’t think he’ll ever trust me enough to let me just be free.”
Free. What I’d give for my own freedom in times like these. “I don’t think you’re wrong for wanting
those things, Hannah.”
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Hannahughed suddenly, though it was tinged with bitterness. “He thinks he’s doing it because he
loves me, but I don’t feel loved.”
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Hearing Hannah’s words, I couldn’t help but recall the countless times I had tried to assert myself,
to set boundaries with those who sought to invade my personal space and dictate my life. It had
often felt like shouting into the void, my pleas for understanding falling on deaf ears.
“Hannah,” I said gently, “it’s essential for both partners in a rtionship to have their own space and
independence. Love should never feel suffocating; it should be liberating.”
Hannah’s sigh held a mixture of resignation and longing. “I know, Evie. I just don’t know how to
make him see that. I’m afraid of hurting him, but I can’t continue like
this.”
“Let’s take it one step at a time, Hannah,” I offered. “If you don’t want to consider couples
counseling we’ll just have to be firm in your stance on a divorce, okay?”
Once our conversation concluded, I sat back in my chair, the weight of Hannah’s story lingering in
the quiet office. Her plight had stirred something within me, something dark. Whether it was media
attention or a clingy spouse, it seemed like the world never gave up on making someone suffer.
The dimly litw firm office had fallen into a heavy silence as I sat hunched over my deskte into
the night, the remnants of paperwork strewn about. Solving a client’s domestic dispute was far from
morous, but it didn’te nearly as much scandal. Strangely enough, it felt like the break that I
needed.
As I reviewed case notes, a hushed presence approached me from behind. I could sense someone
standing near my desk, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Turning my head slightly, I found my
Mr. Erickson leaning in close.
His graying hair was impablybed, and his eyes held a gaze that was all too unsettling.
“Evie,” his voice was a barely audible murmur, “You’re still here.”
I cleared my throat a I gathered some of my papers together, pushing them into al neat stack. “Um,
yeah, I had to finish up some stuff before I left. I guess it’s prettyte.”
He nodded, thankfully appeased by this exnation. Of course, it didn’t curb the rest of his
curiosity. “I couldn’t help but notice you in the news recently.”
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A
“In the news, sir?” I asked, taking on a quizzical look. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Mr. Erickson moved even closer, and the scent of his overpowering cologne filled. the air. His hand
brushed lightly against the edge of my desk before drifting through my hair. It was a touch that
made my skin crawl.
“Evie,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to my ear, “you must be under so much stress.
How do you manage?”
I tried shrinking away, but his meaty fingers had already entangled themselves in my hair and taken
on a tight grip. “I manage just fine.”
“Do you, now?” He leaned closer and I trembled as his face came close enough for the stubble on
his chin to scratch my jaw. “Let me help you ease that tension away.”
A mixture of fear and disgust welled up within me. I had always considered Mr. Erickson a mentor
and a respected figure in the firm. iming that he was always sensible was a stretch, but this was
a development that I couldn’t quiteprehend.
I leaned back, putting distance between us, my voice firm but shaking with anger. “I appreciate the
concern, sir, but I can handle my own stress.”
Mr. Erickson’s demeanor shifted, his voice taking on a sinister edge. “You know, Evie, if you were
involved with a taken man like Timothy Hayes, it’s no wonder you’re in the news. People like you,
attention–seekers, always find a way to make headlines.”
His insinuation cut deep, and I felt my cheeks flush with anger. “Mr. Erickson, I don’t appreciate your
comments about my personal life. Timothy was my client, and there’s nothing more to it.”
Mr. Erickson’s gaze turned predatory as he leaned closer once more, his voice a menacing whisper.
“Perhaps you should consider getting involved with someone who can offer you more, someone like
me.”
The audacity of his proposition left me speechless. It was a line that should never have been
crossed, and my mind raced, searching for a way to make him. understand the gravity of his
actions.
“I think you should reconsider, Mr. Erickson,” I said hastily. “If Timothy and I are as close as you
im we are, I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate hearing about your
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advances.”
Mr. Erickson’s expression darkened, and he scoffed at my words. “You’re deluding yourself if you
think he cares about someone like you.”
I clenched my jaw. “You don’t know anything.”
“I don’t?” he barked out augh, throwing his head back for effect. “Well, I know that he’s a taken
man. Looks like your free meal ticket just expired!”
Slowly, his words started to process in my mind. A taken man…. He couldn’t have been talking
about Timothy, right?
I knew I had to act decisively. Without another word, I pushed my chair back, rising to my feet. The
door to Mr. Erickson’s office mmed shut behind me as I stormed out. I needed to escape his
suffocating presence, to find a moment of respite.
In the women’s restroom, I sequestered myself in one of the stalls, my heart racing as I
contemted the ordeal I had just endured. I sshed cold water on my face, hoping to wash away
the lingering feeling of vition.
As I stood there, my emotions in turmoil, I couldn’t help but reach for my phone. It was a reflexive
action, a desperate attempt to escape the harsh reality that awaited me. With a trembling hand, I
unlocked the device and opened the news
app.
The headlines were aze with news of Timothy Hayes, and my heart sank as I read the words that
confirmed my worst fears. The media was buzzing with rumors and spection, all pointing to a
budding rtionship between the hockey star and his new lover.
“This Just In: Beloved Hockey Star Timothy Hayes Is In Love with Ste Fitzgerald!”
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