I stare at my screen, lost in thought. I told Brad I’d help him find the last few bugs in his software during my lunch break today, and all I can think about is wanting to do this full-time. I want projects of my own.
I’m glad I get to gain some practical experience through Brad’s projects, but none of the stuff I’ve worked on will have my name on it. And that shouldn’t matter, because how many people really care who developed the software they use? But still… I want to be known in the industry as someone worth working with. Someone worth hiring.
My mind involuntarily drifts to Grayson. He said I’d be welcome at Aequitas, and he seemed to mean it, but then he made it impossible for Brad to join alongside me. I don’t understand why he’d do that. Is it a way of offering me something yet making sure I won’t take him up on it? Was it an empty offer?
Aequitas is my dream company. It has been since Gray founded it. I’ve applied every single year, and not once did I even make it to the interview rounds. I’ve never had the guts to ask Gray for a job directly — not because I’m opposed to using connections, not at all — but because I’m scared he’ll tell me that I’m not good enough, that the rejections from his HR department mean I’m not cut out for Aequitas.
Working at Aequitas could change everything for me. But is a dream job worth risking my relationship?
I grab my phone and stare at the photo of Brad and me that I’ve set as my background. For years I was convinced that I’d never have a normal life, that I’d never recover from the loss of my parents. I’ve always believed no one would ever be able to see through the smiles I force onto my face every day. And no one did, until Brad. I can’t leave now. I can’t move all the way to California. I’m not sure our relationship would survive, and I’m not willing to take the risk. Not even for my dream job. All I’ve ever wanted is to have a normal life. I want to live the life my parents would have wanted for me. I can’t risk the happiness I’ve finally found.
I’m startled out of my thoughts when my phone rings. My heart drops when I recognize the number, and my stomach twists violently. If our lawyer is calling, it can’t be good news. I grab the edge of my desk as I lift the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Aria,” Jack says, his voice tinged with regret, as though he doesn’t want to be making this call. My eyes flutter closed, and I bite down on my lip, bracing myself.
“They released Peter Simmons on good behavior. I only just found out, and I wanted you to hear it from me.”
His words reverberate through my mind, taking a while to click. This can’t be happening. He can’t get away with what he did. Not after everything we went through to finally put him in jail.
“Good behavior? Jack, he murdered my parents. You told me he’d serve twenty-five years. How could he possibly be out ten years early? How is that possible?”
Jack sighs, as though he doesn’t know what to tell me. “I’m sorry, Aria. If his behavior was exemplary, it’s possible for part of his sentence to have gotten commuted.”
I swallow hard. “He was supposed to be in for another ten years. This shouldn’t be possible,” I repeat, panic gripping me.
“I’m looking into it as we speak,” Jack says, but the tone of his voice tells me all I need to know. It’s too late to do anything about this. “I’d better call your brother.”
I shake my head. “I think it might be better if I tell him myself,” I say, my voice breaking. It’s been hard on Noah, celebrating his birthday without our parents, becoming a doctor after years of hard work and being unable to see the pride in their eyes. He won’t deal well with this news.
I don’t even realize I ended the call, not until my manager calls out my name. I don’t remember rising from my seat, yet here I am, with my bag in hand, my feet moving me toward the door.
“Aria,” he says. “Where are you going? I need you to give that presentation to the board for me later today. I have plans tonight. Make sure you make a good slideshow as well.”
I look up at him, my eyes lingering on his face. He looks unkind, and he is. He’s always fobbing his work off on me, and I’ve always taken it. I’ve done it, because I always thought it’d increase my chances of moving departments.
“No,” I say, my voice soft but clear. I’m barely thinking straight, but it still feels right. I walk past him, ignoring the way his face reddens.
“If you walk out now, you’d better not dream of returning tomorrow morning.”
I pause and turn back to look at him. All eyes in the office are on us, and most people look amused. There’s not a single glance of sympathy, there’s no outrage on my behalf, and not a single person here will stand up for me. No one seems to care I might lose my job. All this seems to be is a moment of entertainment for them. Every single person in this department has at some point reached out to me for help, and I’ve never asked for anything in return. I’ve given this company everything for years. What for?
“Understood,” I tell my manager, and then I walk out, slamming the door behind me. The regret sinks in the second I walk into the lift and I place a steadying hand against the cold metal. I’m tempted to go to Brad’s floor to find him, but I’m scared I won’t make it there without bursting into tears. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself even further.
I’m shaking by the time I get home. My thoughts are whirling, and I feel sick. The news I received combined with the loss of my job has me sinking to my knees as soon as the front door closes behind me.
I inhale deeply, trying my best not to panic, forcing myself to breathe. I glance around, my eyes settling on a flash of red.
I start to tremble, a chill running down my spine when I realize what I’m looking at.
That flash of red… they’re red heels.
And they aren’t mine.
