Page 7 of Shame

My father’s voice echoes in my head, dripping with condescension.“How did you not notice what he was doing? How did you let this happen under your nose?”

Never once did he think I’d known about Sam’s reckless behaviour and let it slide. He’d gone straight to incompetence.

Would he judge me in the same way for destroying my marriage?

They had never liked Grace much. The dislike was mutual.

Not that he liked his own wife, either.

Was infidelity and marital cruelty hereditary?

In front of me, my monitor blinks on. Our internal messaging system pops up. Cameron is back at his desk and has noticed I’m here.

Great. Don’t mind me, I’m just having a meltdown.

I move to the desk, shoving thoughts of my parents back into the dark, gross hole where I usually keep them.

Cameron: Messages are on your desk. Let me know when you have a free minute to go over meeting requests for the week.

He’s been with me for almost two years, the longest any assistant has lasted at that desk, and he’s used to me being a bear.

I start to type back some excuse, but it’s a lie even as much as it’s the truth.

The real truth is, I need him to lie for me.

Can I trust you, Cameron?Well, I’m not going that far. I’m not a fucking idiot.

I stalk back to the door and yank it open. “Come in.”

His expression doesn’t change as he takes in my appearance—unshaved, no suit. Look of death pasted on my face.

Who died?

Me, if I have anything to say about it.

As soon as the door closes behind him, I open my mouth to tell him I need him to cover for me—and nothing comes out.

He frowns.

I turn to the window and take a deep breath. Then I pivot back and pick up the messages. One thing at a time.

The name on the second piece of paper curdles the blood in my veins.

She doesn’t call me here. Ever. My fingers shake as I keep flipping, then go back to the first one. “Georgian Bay VC cancelled our meeting?”

He nods.

I shrug. “Okay.”

Flip. My fingers tighten. “Caitlyn Jobst called?”

“She didn’t say what it was about.”

“Okay.” Another flip. I read the name on the third slip of paper. I don’t care. We don’t always go through them, but I just needed to know she hadn’t said anything else.

Do not fucking call me at the office.

“Do you want to go over the meeting requests for next week?”

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