Page 56 of The Secretary Volume II

“You’re very quiet tonight.”His fingers dig into my hips.“I could be anyone, couldn’t I?”

He watches me the way men watch prey they’ve already wounded.Waiting to see if it’ll try to limp or crawl away.

His rhythm never falters.There’s no pace change, no urgency.

Just pressure.

Unrelenting.

“You still miss him?”he asks, too casually.“Kevin?”

I don’t answer.

He pulls my arms back, forces my spine to arch.

“Your mother?”he whispers.“Think she’d still be proud if she saw you like this?”

I make a sound.Not a sob—just something sharp.Something involuntary.

He leans in.“She’d call it love, wouldn’t she?”

He keeps going.

My legs shake, and I hate them for it.

By the time he finishes, I’ve stopped counting the minutes.

He doesn’t collapse.Doesn’t soften.Just rises.

Like nothing happened at all.

As he zips his pants, he finally says, “Don’t worry.Your replacement, she’ll come around.”

He adjusts his sleeves.“They always do.And if she doesn’t?—”

He turns, looks down disgust etched into his features.

“You’re still here.”

Then he leaves.

I don’t get up right away.My legs feel like jelly.The burn between my thighs is sharp this time, not dull.

But it’s not the ache I remember.

It’s the names.

My mother.My sister.Kevin.

He weaponized them like passwords.

And I don’t know which ones I can keep.

Eventually someone brings a robe.My clothes are folded on the chair.There’s a note on top.

Folded.Neat.Surgical.One line, in his handwriting:

Everyone has a weakness.Yours are just easier to find.

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