Page 76 of Their Arrangement
Enough to find my spine again.
Camille used to say spreadsheets were like men.
They’ll lie to you if you don’t learn their language.
So I spoke it.
Formula after formula.
Cell by cell.
I corrected every tab, cross-checked totals, rewrote headers. I restructured the budget breakdown like I was carving my name into it.
It didn’t matter if no one noticed.
It mattered that I did.
The whispering never stopped.
But it didn’t cut the same.
Maybe because I’d already bled all over the bathroom floor.
Or maybe because now I knew what they were really afraid of.
Not that I didn’t belong here.
But that I might survive it.
Loyal passed by me once. Then again. The third time, I caught the flick of his eyes.
A glance down the back of my neck.
At the bow.
Still tied.
Still his.
I didn’t turn.
Didn’t flinch.
Just kept typing.
And for the first time all day, my hands didn’t shake.
I hadn’t seen him all day.
Not really.
Glimpses. A glance across the floor. His name in an email. But not him—not the man behind the weight I wore like silk and wire.
Until the elevator.
I stepped in first.
Mid-afternoon. Empty car. I pressed the button for floor five—delivery confirmation for Loyal’s revised numbers. My fingers hovered near the door as it began to close.
