I Tore Up His Check, Then He Bought My Life

Essence ran.

She didn't care about the dignity anymore. She ran barefoot through the service corridor, bursting out into the alley behind the museum. It was raining. The cold water soaked her dress instantly, plastering the silk to her skin.

She shoved her feet into her heels, wincing as blisters popped, and sprinted toward Fifth Avenue.

She hailed a yellow cab, practically throwing herself into the back seat.

"Queens," she gasped. "Astoria. Please, just drive."

The driver looked at her in the rearview mirror-a soaking wet woman in a ballgown-but he didn't ask questions. He hit the gas.

Essence curled into a ball in the corner of the seat. She was shivering uncontrollably. Mrs. Hancock. The way he said it... it wasn't a proposal. It was a sentence. A legal verdict.

Her phone buzzed.

It was Nathan.

Hey beautiful. Just getting off shift. Thinking about you. Hope the fancy party wasn't too boring. Love you.

Essence stared at the screen. A sob broke from her throat. He was so good. So normal. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be collateral damage in Fielding Hancock's war.

She didn't reply. She couldn't lie to him, and she couldn't tell him the truth.

The ride took forty minutes. The taxi pulled up in front of her building-a six-story brick walk-up with a broken intercom and a fire escape that rattled in the wind.

She paid the driver and ran inside. She didn't breathe easy until she was in her apartment on the fourth floor, with all three deadbolts thrown.

Her roommate, Nina, wasn't home. The apartment was dark and quiet.

Essence leaned against the door, sliding down until she hit the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest.

Safe. I'm safe.

She stood up and peeled the wet dress off. She threw it in the corner. She put on her oversized sweatpants and a t-shirt. She went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

Brrr-ring.

The sound made her drop the glass. It shattered on the linoleum.

It wasn't her smartphone.

It was a sound she hadn't heard in three years. A digital, monophonic ringtone.

She looked at the junk drawer near the fridge.

Brrr-ring.

Essence walked toward the drawer slowly. Her hand shook as she pulled it open. Buried under takeout menus and rubber bands was a cheap, black flip phone. A burner.

She had bought it the day she left the mansion. Only one person had the number-her father. And he had been missing for years. Had he sold her out? Or had Fielding's reach finally extended into the one secret she thought she had kept?

She picked it up. The screen glowed blue. UNKNOWN NUMBER.

She flipped it open. She put it to her ear. She didn't speak.

"You have a nice view," Fielding's voice came through the speaker. It was crystal clear. "But your curtains are sheer, Essence. You should invest in blackout shades."

Essence dropped the phone on the counter. She ran to the window.

She peered through the gap in the cheap curtains.

Down on the street, parked directly in front of a fire hydrant, was a massive black Cadillac Escalade. The windows were tinted pitch black. Rain slicked the roof.

As she watched, the rear window rolled down about two inches.

A hand emerged. It flicked the ash from a cigar onto the wet pavement.

The red ember glowed in the darkness. An unblinking eye.

He was here. He had followed her. Or worse, he had been waiting here. He knew the number. He knew the address. He knew everything.

She grabbed the phone again. "Leave me alone, Fielding! Leave Nathan alone!"

"Tomorrow morning," Fielding said. His voice was calm, contrasting with the rain hammering against her window. "10:00 AM. My office. The penthouse at Hancock Tower."

"I'm working tomorrow."

"Call in sick. Or don't. But if you aren't there..." He paused. She heard the sound of him inhaling smoke. "I'll pay a visit to New York Presbyterian. I'm sure the hospital board would be interested to know that Dr. Nathan Miller falsified his residency application. A small clerical error, really. But enough to revoke a license."

"He didn't!" Essence screamed. "He's honest!"

"Everyone has secrets, Essence. I just happen to own the people who keep them."

"You're a monster."

"10:00 AM. Don't be late. And wear the ring. I want to see you take it off."

Click.

The line went dead.

Essence looked down at the street. The window of the SUV rolled up. The taillights flared red, and the massive car pulled away, disappearing into the rainy New York night.

She sank to the floor, clutching the burner phone. The engagement ring on her finger felt heavy. Like a shackle.