Chapter 6
Six
Ava
All night, my mind has been running crazy.
I get no sleep, not that I could even if I wanted to.
Between the attempt at coming up with ideas on how to keep us safe and chugging coffee to stay awake and alert, every little noise feels like a threat.
The trees outside tapping on the window with the wind kept me on edge.
Every car that runs down the street steals my breath until they continue past. A dog barking nearly sends my soul from my body.
Paranoia has crept into our life again, and I’m worried about what that could mean, if I’ll be able to continue without having further panic attacks.
I won’t go back to that life. I won’t let Elsie be dragged back to it.
So, as I rise and cover up the dark circles under my eyes with foundation, the gears of my mind turn.
I’ve come up with and dismissed at least a dozen plans.
I can’t go to the police. Even when I had proof, they did nothing to help.
The divorce attorney told me that I would need more to prove he’s an unfit father and with me running away, it actually gave him an advantage for a full custody case despite him accepting the temporary restraining order my lawyer had managed to push.
So here I am, desperately trying to find a way to keep Elsie safe from the man who contributed to her creation.
If he gets visitation, or worse, custody, there’s no telling what he’ll do.
That’s when the idea starts truly growing.
It’s silly at first, a foolish thought that feels like a joke I told myself more than anything, but the more I think about it, the more I consider it.
Realistically, it’s risky as hell. Not only could it get me fired, but it could cost me everything, like my reputation in the business world.
It could literally backfire on me, making it impossible to stay here.
And then I’ll have to tell Elsie we’re leaving again.
But if it works. . .
To combat Ric, I need something different, something I don’t already have.
Tonya has always been an immense help, but she’s just one woman.
Together, we have zero assets. What we need are powerful allies.
We need allies that Ric would be afraid of, that would keep him from acting for fear of losing all credibility.
I can’t attack him with the justice system, but I can attack the things he actually cares about.
His money. His social status. His peace. His body.
And today’s the day I meet with someone powerful enough to help.
It’s a stupid plan, a risky one, but fuck if it doesn’t sound promising.
So, for shits and giggles, I put together a folder of my plan and slip it into my briefcase as I get Elsie ready for school.
I don’t have to show it to him. I don’t even have to go through with it, but it’s there just in case.
In case I truly lose my sanity and go for it. Sometimes, risk is what makes things happen.
Strolling through the doors of Fox Industries a few hours later is surreal.
The lobby screams big money, white marble floors shot through with golden veins and ceilings so high, it’s almost hard to see the modern chandeliers.
The large reception desk takes up a generous portion of the room where it sits in front of the bank of elevators.
I’m dressed in my fiercest suit today, the red one I reserve for important meetings, so my confidence is high.
The red suit pants tuck in nicely at my ankles to show off the black heels I’m wearing.
I look as powerful as I want to be, and that’s important, both for the project with Goliath and for the secret folder in my briefcase.
I need to feel confident right now. I need to not feel like a complete idiot.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks as I approach.
Even she gives off the big money aura. Dressed in a form fitting dress that clearly cost more than my entire wardrobe and her hair pulled back in a severe bun, she looks just like I’d expect a receptionist in a TV show to look.
She smiles when I stop in front of the desk, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I have a meeting with Dagen Fox,” I answer, proud when my voice doesn’t quiver around his name. “I’m from Goliath Marketing.”
“Perfect,” she nods, glancing down at her computer. She slides over a plastic card on a lanyard, and I take it. “You’ll need this. Use elevator three, swipe the card, and select floor forty-five. Good luck.” Not once does she break character, the perfect professional receptionist.
“Thank you,” I tell her and bypass the desk to approach the bank of elevators.
When I push the up button, the doors open immediately, as if the elevator has been waiting right here for me.
Maybe it has been. I can’t even begin to understand rich people and the way they operate.
Let alone the sort of money that went into this building.
When I step inside the elevator box, the golden veined white marble continues inside, but the walls are shiny gold.
They’re so slick that it’s clear it’s been polished to a mirrored finish.
I swipe the card on the lanyard before looping it over my head.
Forty-five is the top floor. Of course, it’s the top floor.
Dagen Fox wouldn’t be sitting halfway up his own skyscraper.
That would be silly. I hit the button and take a deep breath as the doors close.
I’m not even surprised when the elevator moves so smoothly, I barely feel it going up.
In my briefcase, I have my laptop where I’ll be going over the marketing plan for the new Fox Industries security system.
I also plan to take notes and ask clarifying questions we need for the project.
Marie and Julie had offered to come with me, but that’s not the normal process and I know they only wanted to come to get a good look at Dagen Fox in the flesh.
Beneath my laptop are two folders, one for the project with further information and one for.
. . my own project. I’m prepared for this.
We’ve run all the data. I’ve done all the work.
I’m nervous, but not for the Goliath project.
That’ll be easy. Who’s to say I’ll even present the other plan?
I could change my mind. I’m good at my job and I really don’t want to lose it.
But now I have to be a good fighter, too.
The doors slide open far too quickly and I’m staring at a lush, wooden lobby shined and oiled to perfection.
Another desk awaits me here, a woman sitting behind it that looks so expensive, I wonder why she’s even working here.
I’d thought the lobby receptionist was swanky. This woman puts her to shame.
“Ms. Hutcherson. You’re expected,” she says, smiling and standing up. “He’ll see you now.” She steps around the desk and knocks on the large solid wooden door to her left. A muffled voice responds, and she tugs it open.
I get my first real look at the man leaning against the desk waiting for me.
I think I stop breathing entirely.