Chapter 4 - With Myself
Grant smiled carefully.
“I’m sure from your perspective—”
“My perspective included your hand on her face.”
Megan touched her cheek.
Grant’s eyes darted toward her.
She lowered her hand quickly.
Julian noticed that too.
He missed nothing now.
That was what Grant had underestimated.
Julian Cross was not dangerous because he was strong enough to hit him.
He was dangerous because he saw patterns.
The folder contained them.
Screenshots of login attempts.
Transfer requests.
A draft employment recommendation Grant had prepared using Julian’s name without consent.
A private debt summary tied to Grant’s failed side investment.
Photos from the house security camera Julian had installed years ago when Megan first bought the property.
Grant had disabled the main system after moving in.
But not the backup cloud linked to Megan’s ownership account.
He did not know about it.
The backup had captured enough.
Not everything.
Enough.
Grant backing Megan into the hallway.
Grant grabbing her wrist near the staircase.
Grant knocking a phone from her hand.
Grant raising his hand two nights earlier.
The slap itself had happened just outside the camera angle.
But Megan’s head snapped into frame afterward.
Then Grant’s voice.
Cover it. We have dinner with Cross on Thursday.
Julian had watched that clip alone in his office that morning.
Then he had closed his laptop, removed his wedding ring from his pocket — an old habit from when he was widowed and angry — and called Evelyn Price.
“Prepare the emergency packet.”
Evelyn asked, “For business misconduct or domestic violence?”
Julian said, “Both.”
Now the packet was in the leather folder.
But Julian knew evidence was not the first question.
Megan was.
He turned to her again.
“Do you want to leave this house tonight?”
Grant snapped, “She is not leaving.”
Megan looked at him.
Something in her face shifted.
Not bravery exactly.
Exhaustion reaching the end of obedience.
“I am.”
Grant stared.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“I’m leaving.”
He laughed.
“With him?”
“With myself.”
Julian’s eyes flickered.
For the first time that night, pride cut through the rage.
Grant stepped toward her.
Julian moved one inch.
That was enough.
Grant stopped.
“You think you can just walk out?”
Megan looked at the living room.
The lamps she had chosen.
The couch she bought before the marriage.
The dinner plates from her mother.
The makeup box open on the side table.
The chair she caught herself on after being slapped.
Then she looked at Grant.
“This was my house before you moved in.”
His face changed.
She had never said it like that.
Out loud.
With Julian present.
Grant’s control depended on making her doubt what belonged to her.
The house.
The money.
Her memory.
Her own face.
Julian opened the folder and pulled out one page.
“Grant, Cross Capital will not be recommending you for the executive role.”
Grant’s head snapped toward him.
“Excuse me?”
“Your application is terminated.”
“You can’t do that because of a private argument.”
“No,” Julian said. “I can do it because you attempted unauthorized access to a protected account, misrepresented your household assets in a compensation disclosure, and submitted a draft recommendation using my name.”
Grant’s face went pale.
Megan turned toward him.
“You used Julian’s name?”
Grant’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Julian continued.
“And if Megan chooses to report what happened here tonight, the security footage and this folder are ready.”
Grant looked at Megan with sudden hatred.
“You told him.”
Megan shook her head.
“I didn’t.”
That seemed to scare him more.
Because if she had not told Julian, then the truth had escaped without her permission.
Abusers hate witnesses.
They hate evidence more.
Grant lunged for the folder.
Julian stepped back and closed it with one hand.
“Don’t.”
Grant froze.
May you like
The warning was quiet.
But the memory of the punch was still sitting in his jaw.
