Chapter 29 The Breaking Point #2
He drifts off within minutes. I sit there in the dark, listening to the beep of the monitors, and let myself fall apart silently so he doesn't hear.
The walk home is cold. February has claws tonight, the wind cutting through my coat like it isn't there. I should have called a cab, but I needed the air. Needed to feel something other than the numbness spreading through my chest.
I'm halfway to my building when I notice him.
A figure on the opposite side of the street. Male, I think. Tall. Walking when I walk, slowing when I slow.
My heart stutters. James. The name flashes through my mind like a warning siren. Maddox said he was being tracked. Said he hadn't been near Kai. What about near me?
I speed up. The figure keeps pace.
Don't panic. Don't run. Think.
I pull out my phone, pretend to take a call, use the screen to glance behind me. The figure has stopped. He's standing under a streetlamp now, but his face is in shadow.
I turn the corner toward my building, walking fast, keys already in my hand. The entrance is fifty feet away. Forty. Thirty.
I risk one more look back.
The street is empty.
I stand there for a moment, heart pounding, scanning the shadows. Nothing. No one. Just the wind and the distant sound of traffic.
I'm imagining things. Sleep deprivation. Stress. I've had too many bad things happen to trust the quiet.
I unlock the door, rush up the stairs, grip the railing as I go. Inside my apartment, I check the lock three times. Lean against the door and let myself breathe.
I feel like I’m losing my mind.
The ping of an email notification shakes me from my stupor. I almost ignore it. I should have.
The subject line stops me cold.
RE: Fact-Finding Meeting - HR Investigation
My hands shake as I open it.
Dear Ms. Sinclair,
This letter is to inform you that a formal complaint has been filed regarding your conduct at a client dinner this evening. The Human Resources department will conduct a fact-finding investigation into allegations of unprofessional behavior and a hostile work environment.
You are requested to attend a meeting tomorrow at 10:00 AM in Conference Room 4B to provide your account of the events in question.
Please be advised that you may bring relevant documentation and one witness. This meeting is part of a standard investigative process and does not presume any outcome.
Regards, Patricia Holloway Human Resources Director
I read it three times. The words don't change.
Formal complaint. Investigation. Hostile work environment.
Miles filed a report. He's alleging I'm the problem, and he has witnesses.
This can't be happening. It can't be happening.
Miles has won. He's twisted everything around, made me the villain, and I walked right into it. I gave him exactly what he needed. An outburst, witnesses, ammunition.
My chest tightens. The walls of the apartment feel too close, the air too thin. I stumble to my feet, knock over a glass of water. It shatters on the floor, and somehow that small destruction is what breaks me.
I sink to my knees, gasping. The panic comes in waves, each one bigger than the last. I can't breathe. I can't think. My job. My income. The security I've scraped together since starting over. All of it crumbling. And I can't stop it.
My phone is still in my hand. Through the blur of tears, I scroll to my contacts. My thumb hovers over Kai's name, but I can't. I can't put this on him. Not now.
I keep scrolling. Past Zoe. Past Logan. Past names that feel like strangers.
I stop on a number I could never bring myself to delete. The number I call when I need to feel close to her, even if she can't answer. Even if she'll never answer again.
Mom.
It rings once, twice.
“Hi, you've reached Lila Sinclair. I'm not available right now, but leave a message, and I'll get back to you soon!”
The sound of her voice, warm and familiar and forever frozen in time, shatters something inside me.
“Mom,” I whisper, pressing the phone against my ear like I can get closer to her through the static. “Mom, I don't... I don't know what to do.”
The tears come harder now, racking sobs that leave me curled on the floor beside the broken glass.
“Everything's falling apart. My job. My life. There's this man who's trying to destroy me, and I don't know how to stop him. And Kai... God, Mom, there's this guy, and I think I love him, but I'm so scared. I'm scared of needing him. I'm scared he'll see who I really am and leave.”
I'm rambling now, words spilling out that I've never said to anyone. Things I've barely admitted to myself.
“I miss you,” I choke out. “I miss you so much. I miss Dad. I miss Danny. I miss having someone who knew me before all of this. Before I became this person who's always pretending to be okay.”
The voicemail beeps. Time's up. I don't hang up. I just lie there, phone pressed to my cheek, pretending she's listening.
“I wish you could tell me what to do,” I whisper. “I wish you could tell me it's going to be okay.”
The silence is my only answer.
I don't know how long I stay on the floor. Long enough for my tears to dry. Long enough for the cold from the floorboards to seep into my bones.
Eventually, I pull myself up. My reflection in the bathroom mirror shows a disaster. Mascara streaked. Eyes swollen. Hair tangled from where I've been running my hands through it.
I splash water on my face. Once. Twice. Three times.
I force myself to look. Really look.
I think about everything I've survived. James, who spent years making me feel small. Losing my family in one terrible night. Moving to a new city with nothing but a suitcase and a stubborn refusal to give up.
I'm still here. Through all of it, I'm still here.
Miles Harrison is not going to be the thing that breaks me.
I grab my phone. Thumb hovers over Logan's name. Can I trust him? I barely know him. I'm only just learning to trust Kai, and that's taken everything I have.
I think about him at the hospital. The way he didn't tell Kai about the gossip. The way he said I was one of them. I hope he meant it.
I call before I can talk myself out of it.
His voice is alert despite the hour. “Sin? What's wrong? Is it Kai?”
“Kai's fine.” I take a breath. “I need advice. Professional advice. And I need you not to tell him about this.”
A pause. “Okay. Talk to me.”
So I do. I tell him everything. The dinner. Miles's accusations. My outburst. The HR complaint. I tell him about the weeks of whispers and innuendo, the way Miles has been systematically undermining me since the ELK account.
Logan listens without interrupting. When I finish, the silence stretches.
“First,” he says finally, “you need to document everything. Every comment, every incident, every witness. Dates and times if you can remember them.”
“I can do that.”
“Second, do you have anything in writing? Texts, emails, anything where Miles said something inappropriate?”
I think back. “Maybe. He's careful, but there might be something.”
“Find it. HR investigations live and die on documentation.”
“What about the dinner? The clients saw me lose my temper. That's all they're going to remember.”
“Maybe.” Logan's voice is thoughtful. “But they also saw Miles provoke you. The question is whether any of them will say that on record.”
“His whole team was there. They're not going to contradict him.”
“What about Rachel? You mentioned she looked uncomfortable.”
I hadn't thought of that. Rachel, who's never been outright cruel. Who winced when Miles made his comments. Who might, just might, have a conscience.
“I don't know,” I admit. “We're not close.”
“You don't need close. You need honest.” He pauses. “Look, Sin, I'm not going to lie to you. This is bad, but it's not unwinnable. You need to be strategic. Don't let emotions drive your response. Document, gather evidence, and present your case clearly.”
“And if it's not enough?”
“You fight harder.” His voice softens. “You're not alone in this, Emma. You know that, right?”
The words soothe me. I've been so focused on handling everything myself that I forgot what it feels like to have someone in my corner.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “Also for not telling Kai.”
“That's your call, not mine. But for what it's worth, I think you're wrong to keep him out of it.”
“He has enough to worry about.”
“He'd want to know.”
“I know.” I close my eyes. “I need to fight this myself. I need to know I can.”
Logan is quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says finally. “I get that.”
I'm exhausted. I'm scared. I have no idea if I can win this. Or at least not lose.
I open my laptop and start to write.
I type until my eyes burn. Every comment. Every look. Every moment I can remember. When I finish, it's after two in the morning, and the document is four pages long.
Four pages of evidence that I exist. That I matter. That what happened to me was real.
Outside my window, the city is dark and quiet. Indifferent to whether I win or lose.
I press my hand against the cold glass and make a promise. Not to Kai, not to my mom, but to myself.
I will not disappear quietly.