Chapter 4
I had one last packet of signed paperwork to send before I started in New York.
I scanned my signed transfer agreement, the HR forms, and my professional certifications, and emailed the scans to myself. Then I put the originals in an envelope and tucked it behind the folders in my desk drawer. I'd mail it first thing in the morning.
When I got out of the shower the next morning, the envelope was gone.
I was tearing the study apart when Nathan came out of the guest room.
“What did you lose?”
“My paperwork.”
“Which paperwork?”
I kept looking. My transfer wasn't his business anymore, and I didn't want to discuss it before I left.
Leah wandered in from the living room, and her eyes landed on the open suitcase by my desk.
“Emma, are you packing because you're still angry with Nathan?”
He frowned. “You're going somewhere?”
Leah started to cry. “I know you've been arguing because of me. But don't leave just so he'll run after you. Tell me what I should do. I'll do whatever you need.”
Nathan's surprise gave way to irritation. Before he could start questioning me, I went into the laundry room.
My envelope was in the washer.
It had been through a full wash cycle. The paper was waterlogged, signatures had run, and some of the raised seals were almost impossible to see.
I brought it into the living room. Leah went pale.
“How did that get in there?” Her voice shook. “You're not saying I put it there?”
Nathan stepped between us. “Nobody's accusing anyone until we know what happened.”
When she'd blamed me for the mosaic, he hadn't needed to know what happened. Her word had been enough.
I raised the wet envelope. “Apparently proof only matters when I'm the one who's been wronged.”
His face tightened. He didn't reply.
I called the New York office to arrange replacement documents.
That evening, Leah had another outburst. She broke a lamp and a drinking glass, then sat crying amid the shards.
“I didn't want any of this,” she sobbed. “Nathan, can we go somewhere quiet for a few days? I can't take another fight here.”
He helped her up and promised to take her away for a while.
He booked a two-night stay at a quiet Cape Cod resort.
When he came into the study, I was filling out the replacement forms online.
He glanced at my screen. “Emma, what did you need those documents for?”
A muffled sob sounded from Leah's room.
He turned toward it immediately. A moment passed before he spoke to me again.
“We're going to Cape Cod for two days. You and I need to talk when I get back.”
“I have work to finish.”
Leah called his name. He left without asking anything else.
The following morning, she stood by the front door in my beige trench coat.
Nathan had given it to me when he closed his first major acquisition. In the store, he'd tied the belt at my waist and promised he'd buy me a nicer one when he had more money.
His career had taken off since then. His attention to me hadn't.
Leah smoothed down a sleeve. “I was cold. Nathan said I could wear this. That's okay, isn't it?”
“No. Take it off, please.”
Nathan frowned. “It's only for two days. I'll have it dry-cleaned.”
“It's mine. You should have asked.”
Leah glanced at him, then slowly untied the belt. I waited while she took it off and handed it back.
He lifted her suitcase. With my coat folded over my arm, I watched him follow her into the elevator.
I packed up the rest of my things. There was less than I'd expected: my documents and some clothes.
When I'd first moved in, Nathan had emptied half the bedroom closet for me.
“It's your home now,” he'd told me. Then he'd smiled and corrected himself. “Our home.”
I'd claimed the left side of the dining table and filled the shelves with my books. Little by little, my life had spread into every corner of that apartment.
Erasing myself from it turned out to be easy.
I left my key on the cabinet by the door. New York had agreed to accept the scans until the replacement originals came through.
That afternoon, I took my suitcase to Logan Airport.
Before I boarded, I sent Nathan four texts.
[Nathan, I'm leaving.]
[This isn't a punishment, and I'm not waiting for you to come after me.]
[You can go on looking after Leah.]
[I'm going to look after myself.]
I turned off my phone and boarded.
This time, I didn't look back.
NATHAN'S POV
It was hours before I saw Emma's texts.
Leah had taken the medication her psychiatrist prescribed and fallen asleep on the sofa in our hotel suite. When my screen lit up, I assumed it was work. It was four messages from Emma. I read them twice. The anger hit before the fear did. She knew how fragile Leah was. She knew this was only a two-day trip. I'd told her we would talk when I got back.
Fine. We would. In two days, the way I'd said.
I wrote back.
[Don't do this. Running away isn't going to force my hand. We'll talk when I'm home.]
Then I opened my work email, intending to forward the client's follow-up questions to Emma.
The reply came back in seconds. It wasn't from Emma. It was an automated confirmation from HR.
Emma Carter is no longer with the Boston office. Her handover is complete. All Hartwell matters have been reassigned to Leah, with Nathan as supervising partner.
Before I could even process it, another email pinged in. It was from Hartwell's lead counsel. Subject: URGENT. They needed the updated risk model by eight tomorrow morning, or the deal was off the table.
Leah shifted on the sofa and opened her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Hartwell needs the risk model by tomorrow morning."
Leah sat up, panic crossing her face. "I can't... Nathan, I can't do that. I don't know the first thing about her models. I'll ruin it."
"I know."
"Then call her," Leah said, as if it were the easiest solution in the world. "Tell her to come back and fix it. She has to."
I looked at the HR notice. Then at the client's urgent deadline. Then at the text I had just sent Emma—Running away isn't going to force my hand.
I picked up my phone and dialed her number.
