Chapter 8 - Emily’s Real Reason
After Raymond’s arrest, I believed the secrets were finished.
I was wrong.
Emily resigned.
She placed an envelope on my desk.
Two weeks’ notice.
I stared.
“No.”
She almost smiled.
“You can’t reject a resignation.”
“I own the company.”
“I work for the household.”
“Technicality.”
“Michael.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Catherine is home.”
“That is a reason to leave?”
“Noah has his mother.”
I understood.
And hated it.
“You think your job is done.”
“Yes.”
“Was I your job too?”
Her face changed.
“That’s unfair.”
“Answer.”
“No.”
“Then stay.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
She closed her eyes.
“Because I love you.”
Silence.
There it was.
No dramatic music.
No carefully prepared confession.
Just truth, exhausted.
Emily continued before I could speak.
“And I refuse to become the woman everyone thinks replaced your wife because she cleaned your house long enough.”
I stood.
“Nobody gets to define you that way.”
“You can’t control people.”
“I’m learning.”
“Slowly.”
“Painfully.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then cried.
“I love Noah.”
“I know.”
“I love Catherine.”
“I know.”
“That makes this worse.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She stepped back.
“I need something that belongs to me.”
That I understood.
“Then take it.”
“What?”
“Your life.”
She stared.
“Outside this house if necessary.”
“You’re agreeing?”
“I’m trying.”
It felt terrible.
Probably meant it was right.
Emily enrolled in a nursing reinstatement program.
Catherine helped.
The old medication accusation was reopened.
Dr. Owen Mercer had indeed falsified records.
Why?
Raymond again.
Mercer had been paid to discredit Emily years earlier after Rebecca began working against him.
Raymond had anticipated Emily becoming useful to Catherine.
He removed her professional credibility before she even entered the conflict.
That level of planning chilled me.
Mercer lost his license.
Emily’s record cleared.
She moved into an apartment downtown.
Noah hated it.
“She abandoned me.”
“No.”
“She left.”
“She still sees you.”
“Not every day.”
I crouched.
“People are allowed to build lives that don’t revolve around us.”
He frowned.
“You don’t like it either.”
“No.”
That answer surprised him.
“Then make her come back.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because loving someone is not owning them.”
Catherine heard from the doorway.
Later she said:
“Good.”
“I’m receiving parenting grades now?”
“Yes.”
“From my wife?”
“Legally.”
We had not divorced yet.
That came later.
Quietly.
Respectfully.
Painfully.
Catherine kept Harrington as part of her legal name because Noah did.
No fight.
No headlines beyond what leaked.
She moved into a nearby townhouse after rehab improved.
Noah divided time between us flexibly.
The first night he slept at Catherine’s house, I wandered Harrington House like a ghost.
Too quiet.
Then the kitchen light was on.
Emily stood there.
I stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“Noah left his science book.”
“He’s not here.”
“I know.”
“Then?”
She held up coffee.
“Catherine said you’d be unbearable alone.”
I laughed.
“She sent you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
We sat.
No uniform.
Emily wore jeans and a cream sweater.
I realized how rarely I had seen her as anything but employee.
That shamed me.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“With what?”
“Us.”
She looked at me.
“You’ve been divorced six days.”
“Seven.”
“That correction is not helping.”
“I’m not proposing.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking for dinner.”
“No.”
I stared.
She smiled.
“Ask properly.”
I understood.
Not boss.
Not command.
Not assumption.
“Emily Carter, would you like to have dinner with me Friday?”
She pretended to think.
“Yes.”
Our first date happened at a small Italian restaurant in Lincoln Park.
No private room.
One guard outside.
Emily insisted.
I agreed.
Mostly.
We talked about things unrelated to murder.
Her favorite city was Boston.
She hated olives.
Wanted to work pediatric rehab.
I learned she painted badly.
She learned I secretly watched baseball at two in the morning.
It felt strange.
Ordinary.
I had forgotten ordinary could be luxurious.
At the end, I drove her home myself.
She looked suspicious.
“You drive?”
“I own cars.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“I have a license.”
“Barely reassuring.”
At her building, she turned.
“Thank you.”
“For dinner?”
“For asking.”
Then she kissed my cheek.
Only that.
I sat in the car afterward for five minutes.
James called.
“You alive?”
“Unfortunately.”
May you like
He laughed.
I fired him twice in my head.
