And it’s only a matter of time before they figure out it was me.

I try to act normal—open a spreadsheet, shift a column like I’m still working.But my hands are shaking.Sweat sticks to the back of my neck.My stomach twists, tight and angry, like I’m about to vomit.My mouse skitters across the screen like it’s trying to get away from me—like it knows someone’s watching.

Behind me, someone’s escorted out—silent, ghostlike.No scenes, no yelling.Just an HR rep and two security guys, leading a man I don’t recognize toward the elevator.He holds a cardboard box with what little he has left.His mouth’s tight, but there’s no protest.He’s already accepted what’s coming.

I wonder what he did, or what he knows.

Or maybe, like me, he just looked too closely.

A call pops up on my monitor.Unknown number.No name.

I let it go to voicemail.

A moment later, a calendar invite appears.

MANDATORY COMPANY-WIDE ALL-HANDS – 15 MINUTES.

No location listed.Just:

Join from wherever you are.

Jesus.

I sit back in my chair.Try to breathe.The air is thick—stale, heavy.It’s like everything’s closing in around me.I can’t think straight.I can’t even breathe right.I shouldn’t care, but I do.

This isn’t just a scandal; it’s a collapse.

The kind they write case law about, the kind that gets its own Netflix docuseries and Congressional hearings.And I’m sitting here, watching it all burn.Waiting.Wondering who they’ll drag down first.

Because the company is crumbling in real time.

And I’m still badged in.

Still logged on.

Still pretending I’m not the one who lit the match.

But they’ll find out soon enough.

They always do.

65

Gillian

Idon’t remember the drive.Just the way my hands felt on the steering wheel—wrong.Like they didn’t belong to me.Like they belonged to someone steadier.Someone smarter.I don’t even remember deciding to steal the car.Ellis’s car.Doesn’t matter.The ignition clicks, then roars to life—loud, alive, mine.

What’s done is done.

The steering wheel feels heavier than I expected.Every detail—the leather, the way the seat cushions fit just right, the way the car handles—it’s all him.And I can feel it, deep in my chest, tightening my ribs with every passing second.But I don’t stop.I can’t.I need to be anywhere but there.Away from his house, his rules, his control.

Never mind the fact that they’re going to kill me.

Least of all because of the car.

But aside from locking him in that room—this is the first choice I’ve made in God knows how long.And it feels like a violation.Not just of him.Of me.Of everything I’ve allowed to happen.

When I pull into the parking lot of my apartment, it hits me.Something raw.Sharp.Terrifying.Like I’m finally awake.And it makes me want to run—throw the door open, disappear into the night.But I don’t.I sit there, gripping the journal like it’s the only thing holding me together.Trying to figure out what comes next.Even I already know.Nothing good does.