Chapter 142
“You have evidence against Mia. From before, when you found out the child wasn’t mine. I know you do. I’m drowning Jane, that evidence would…”
“No,” I cut in. “Absolutely not.”
“Jane, please…”
“No, Xander. I’m not getting involved in this. And I need you to stop calling me. Don’t contact me again.”
I hung up before he could say another word, but still clutched my phone in my hands. I needed a distraction after that phone call. So, I opened social media, scrolling mindlessly through posts about wedding planning and baby photos. But then I froze, when I came across a news article.
The headline read: “Survivor Speaks Out: Mia Dane Gives Emotional Speech at Women’s Rights Conference.”
The accompanying photo showed Mia on stage, tears streaming down her face, one hand pressed to her heart. The caption mentioned her ‘brave testimony about surviving manipulation and abuse.’ The article was already trending, dozens of supportive comments flooding in, people calling her courageous, inspirational.
“Unbelievable,” I murmured. Then I looked up to find George watching me discreetly. “Don’t judge me,” I said to him.
“I didn’t say anything.”
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But he looked like he was doing exactly that. I dropped my phone. “Do you think I’m evil?”
He sighed. “I don’t think you’re evil, Jane. But I think you’re carrying too many burdens that you should let go of.”
His words hit too close to home, rendering me speechless. George was wise, and he always knew what to say even when he was joking.
I let out a breath and stared out the window, letting myself sink into that rare calm, as the last of the tension drained from my shoulders.
*Jane*
Maria had already claimed our usual table by the window, her red manicured nails drumming against the wooden surface. Over the past two months of me working at Ominent, it had quickly become our daily ritual.
I still remember the day she approached me on my first day. I’d wondered why the VP of Marketing was speaking to the new staff in such a friendly manner, but now, I thoroughly enjoyed having lunch with her. I was glad I took her up on her offer.
The staff at the cafe a few blocks from our office were so familiar with us that they always kept our usual table vacant at our usual time. Still, I wasn’t quite sure if this qualified as friendship. Well, I had no idea what real friendship looked like anyway. But I believed Maria and I could get there some day. After all, she liked to talk, and I liked to listen.
“Jane!” Maria exclaimed when she spotted me. She dropped the cup of coffe she was holding and waved me over. “Finally. I ordered you the usual… turkey club, no tomato, extra pickles.”
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“Thanks Maria,” I said as I sat down. Even though I’ve been here multiple times, I still glanced around the quaint space. It was a small, homey cafe. With coffee colored paint, and muffin–shaped furniture. It was perfect for our daily conversations. “How was your morning?” I
asked.
“Terrible. Absolutely terrible.”
I smiled to myself. Maria was about to launch into some lengthy story.
“Tom came over last night, and do you know what he did? He spent exactly three minutes saying hello to me before dropping to his knees and baby–talking to Obbs for forty–five minutes straight.”
I leaned forward because I genuinely enjoyed listening to Maria talk.
“Obbs is my French bulldog,” she explained. “He’s cute, sure, but he’s not more interesting than his actual girlfriend. Tom literally got down on the floor and let Obbs lick his face while I stood there like an idiot, still holding the wine I’d opened for our romantic evening.”
One of the waiter’s wearing an apron with a large coffee cup drawn on it appeared with our sandwiches, dropped it on the table and left.
“What did you do?” I asked, picking up half of my sandwich.
“I drank the wine myself and watched Netflix while Tom and Obbs had their little love fest on my living room floor. ‘We have a spiritual connection.‘ That’s literally what he told me. Can you believe it? With a dog that eats his own vomit and humps my throw pillow.”
I burst into a fit of laughter, feeling happy tears pool around my eyes. “You have to be exaggerating.”
“Oh, wait till you hear this.” She dropped her sandwich and leaned
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forward. “He bought Obbs a cashmere sweater last week. A hundred and twenty dollars for something Obbs destroyed within hours.”
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