“We’ll figure it out,” he said, pulling her closer. “I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers. Eleanor is a reasonable woman; she’ll understand we’re done. And if not—I have enough connections and resources to make sure she only gets what I decide to leave her.”
His tone sent a shiver down Victoria’s spine. Did she really know him at all?
Eleanor sat in her car across from the apartment building where Andrew had disappeared half an hour ago. The cold November sky threatened rain. The wind swayed the bare branches of the trees, their shadows dancing on the asphalt under the streetlights. She could see a light on in a sixth-floor window—the receptionist, Olivia, had been helpful again, casually mentioning Victoria’s address. The engine hummed quietly, warming the car. Her throat was dry, and her eyes ached from strain and unshed tears. The ticking of the clock on the dashboard seemed to be counting down the final moments of her marriage.
Of course, she could go up there and ring the bell. Catch them. Make a scene. Unleash all her pain and bitterness at once. Maybe that’s exactly what he was expecting—a hysterical fit that would make it easier for him to say, “See? It’s impossible to live with you.”
“What’s the point?” Eleanor thought, massaging her temples. She already knew everything she needed to: this wasn’t just a fling, it was a serious relationship. Serious enough for expensive jewelry. And based on what the receptionist had overheard, he was already siphoning money from their shared business.
A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her. Infidelity, lies, financial fraud. What had she been fighting for all these years? Did she deserve this?
The phone in her pocket buzzed, startling her. Her brother.
“Ellie, where have you been? I’ve been calling for three days,” Mike’s voice was full of concern. In the background, she could hear dogs barking—he must be at his kennel.
“Hey, Mike,” she said, rubbing her tired eyes. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper. “Sorry, just been busy.”
“Busy with what? Are you on vacation? Susan called me, said you haven’t been at work.”
How did Susan have her brother’s number? Eleanor wanted to laugh. Small town, everyone knows everyone. The laugh died in her throat.
“Mike, I’m in trouble.” Her voice cracked. “It’s Andrew. He’s seeing someone else.”
There was silence on the line, then a sharp, metallic click—the sound of Mike closing his pocketknife. A habit from his time in the Marines: he’d flick it open and closed when he was agitated.
“For how long?” His voice turned hard.
“A few months, I think. I saw them together. He even bought her a necklace.” Eleanor swallowed hard. “And it looks like he’s trying to move money out of our business.”
“That son of a bitch,” Mike said quietly. His calm tone was more dangerous than any shout. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”
“No,” Eleanor said firmly. “Don’t. I’ll handle this myself.”
“Ellie, listen to me…”
“I said no!” she almost yelled. “I need to think.”
“Just stay in touch, okay?” her brother reluctantly agreed.
Eleanor turned off her phone and continued her watch. Her back was stiff, but she didn’t move, like a predator in hiding. Soon, a taxi pulled up, and Andrew emerged from the building. No jacket, a little disheveled, but with a satisfied smile on his face. He glanced at his watch, typed something on his phone. A text? To her? “Got held up in a meeting, don’t wait up.” Eleanor sank lower in her seat, though it was unlikely he could see her in the dark. He got in the car and left—presumably heading home to play the part of the dutiful husband.
The car suddenly felt suffocating. Eleanor rolled down the window, inhaling the cold air that stung her nostrils. In the evening quiet, she heard the distant whistle of a train. She remembered how, as kids, she and Mike would make up stories for every train whistle: where it was going, who was on it, what secrets it carried. “We grew up in the same house, but our lives turned out so different,” she thought.
Eleanor started the car. The lit window on the sixth floor beckoned like a flame to a moth. She wanted to see her rival up close, to understand what Andrew saw in her. Youth? Adoration? The ability to listen? But not now. Right now, she needed advice from the one person who had never betrayed her. Decision made, she drove toward her brother’s house. Gripping the steering wheel, she repeated to herself over and over: “You are strong. You will get through this. And no one will take what is rightfully yours.” It was time to act.
After talking to her brother, Eleanor felt as if she had woken from a long slumber. The bitterness and hurt gave way to a cold resolve. Mike had suggested the direct approach: demand an explanation, cause a scene. But she chose a different path. Silence and observation. Information was her weapon.
She returned to the hospital, where she was once again Dr. Hayes: competent, composed, respected. A place where she was valued, unlike in her own home. On Wednesday morning, she said a calm goodbye to Andrew, promising to be back by seven as usual. He didn’t even look up from his phone. Another text from Victoria, she guessed.
“Don’t wait for me for dinner,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Important meeting.”
“Of course,” she smiled. “Good luck!”
The ICU demanded her full attention. At ten, a patient was admitted with a heart attack—an elderly man with frightened eyes and cold, trembling fingers.
“Doctor, I’m dying,” he whispered as Eleanor checked his EKG.
“Not today,” she replied firmly, giving his cold hand a confident squeeze. “Not on my watch.”
She gave orders in a clear, steady voice. Here, her words had weight. Here, she was respected.
The clock in the doctor’s lounge showed four when her phone rang. The head of the department.
“Hayes, you got a minute?” his voice was unusually gentle.
His office smelled of coffee and antiseptic. Dr. Miller, a burly man with kind eyes, motioned for her to sit.
“I’m retiring, Ellie,” he said without preamble. “In two months. And I want to offer you my position.”
Eleanor blinked, stunned.
“Me?”
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