— The old man huffed, letting go of his sleeve. — I’m just saying, the situation feels familiar. That’s all.
Sarah, standing behind them with Nathan in her arms, managed a tiny, exhausted smile. It was barely there, but Dave saw it. That shadow of a smile was worth every second of Gus’s rambling.
The room was small but spotless. Two beds, a nightstand with a lamp, and yellowed lace curtains. Dave locked the deadbolt, pulled the shades tight, and sat Sarah down on the bed.
— Start from the beginning. Everything.
And she did. It came out in bursts, interrupted by her feeding Nathan the formula Dave had ordered via delivery. She told him how Andrew changed the moment they got married. To the world, he was the perfect husband; at home, he was a control freak, demanding an accounting for every cent. How Linda, a retired school principal with the temperament of a drill sergeant, would show up unannounced, going through Sarah’s closets under the guise of “helping,” telling her she was spoiled and that her father had made her weak.
— “Your dad is just a mechanic with a bank account, Sarah. He doesn’t understand family values,” — she quoted. — Andrew told me not to call you. He said you were trying to ruin our marriage. Then he took my phone, saying it was for “security.” Every time I asked to call home, he’d tell me I was just hormonal, that I needed to sleep, that the baby was my only priority.
Dave listened, a cold fury rising in his chest. It was a textbook play. Isolate the victim, cut off the exits, make them completely dependent. Then the financial hit—the papers Vince slipped to an exhausted new mother. “Just a formality,” “Sign here,” “Don’t worry about it.”
— When I tried to leave, — her voice cracked, — Andrew grabbed my bag. Vince pushed me, and I fell. They said, “Go ahead and leave, but Nathan stays.” Linda bragged about her connections. Her former students are everywhere—police, family court, the DA’s office.
A knock at the door made Sarah jump, clutching the baby. A man’s voice, oily and fake-polite, came through the wood:
— Hey, folks! Open up, let’s talk this out. Name’s Nick. Andrew sent me.
Dave signaled Sarah to stay quiet. He cracked the door just enough to block the view. On the threshold stood a guy in his mid-thirties: buzz cut, track suit, and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
— What do you want?
— Mr. Miller, right?
— Maybe.
Nick tried to peer over his shoulder.
— Look, let’s not make a scene. Andrew’s worried. The kid needs to be home. He could file a report for parental kidnapping, you know. Make things real messy.
— You’re going to leave now, — Dave said quietly, but with a tone that made Nick’s smile falter. — Or I’ll be the one filing a report. Harassment, stalking, and the fact that your boss threw a nursing mother onto the street. You think his connections are better than mine? Let’s find out.
Nick paused, scanning Dave, then shrugged with feigned indifference.
— Suit yourself. But we aren’t done here.
He walked away with a swagger, and Dave locked the door, his heart hammering. So much for the doctor’s orders about avoiding stress.
An hour later, a text came from an unknown number. Dave read it twice, doubting his eyes.
“Mr. Miller, it’s Nick. Don’t delete this. I’ve worked for Andrew for three years, and the guy owes me $5,000 in back pay. He’s stiffing me. If you want to know what they’re planning, I can give you the details. Meet me at the park downtown tomorrow at 9 AM. Come alone.”
He showed the message to Sarah. She stared at the screen, her eyes wide with shock.
— Nick… — she whispered. — But he… he was always like Andrew’s shadow.
Dave weighed the risks. A trap? Maybe. But $5,000 is a lot of money to a guy like Nick. An angry employee is more dangerous than any enemy.
— The enemy of my enemy, — Dave muttered. — Especially when that enemy is a cheapskate.
The next morning was overcast, the kind of heavy humidity that makes the air feel thick. Dave arrived at the park 15 minutes early, parked his truck a block away, and watched Nick nervously smoking by a fountain, looking over his shoulder.
— You actually came, — Nick crushed his cigarette under his shoe and tucked the butt into his pocket. A habit of someone who doesn’t like leaving evidence. — Thought you might chicken out.
— I didn’t build a business by being a coward, — Dave stopped a few feet away. — Why start now?
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