THW BILLIONAIRE WIFE DISAPPEARED

Chapter Five: What Clara Knows

Nobody moves for a second.

Clara stands there with the phone clutched to her chest like it might jump out of her hands again if she lets go. I stare at her, waiting, the words from that text still hanging in the air between us.

Careful what you tell the new one. Same as last time.

Clara, I say.

It's not what it looks like.

It looks like someone's been texting you the same way they've been texting me, I say, keeping my voice low. I'm aware of the open floor around us, aware that Kingsley's door is shut but nowhere near soundproof. So tell me what it actually is.

Clara sits down slowly, like her legs need a second to agree to it. She sets the phone face down on the desk, her hands still shaking a little.

I've been getting these for a while, "she says. It started right after Anna left. I didn't think much of it at first. I figured it was a wrong number. Some kind of prank.

How long is a while?

Two years, she says, and her voice cracks on it. Two years, Stephanie. Little messages here and there. Reminders, basically. Don't ask questions. Don't go looking. Don't tell the new girl too much.

The new girl. You mean me. And before me, Anna.

She nods, not looking up at me.

Why didn't you tell Kingsley?

Because the first message I ever got told me not to, she says, finally looking up, her eyes wet, scared in a way I haven't seen on her before, not once in three weeks of teasing and coffee runs and gossip about the office betting pool. It said if I told him, they'd make sure I lost more than just my job.

My stomach drops. They. Who's they?

I don't know. I swear to you, I don't know. She wipes at her eyes fast, like she's embarrassed to be caught doing it. I just know it's someone who knows things about this company that nobody outside it should know. Someone who's been watching this office for a long time.

I almost go straight to Kingsley's office right then. I'm halfway out of my chair before Clara grabs my wrist.

Don't, she says. Please. Not yet.

Clara, this is exactly what he needs to know.

I know. I know, okay, I just- her breath hitches- give me a day. Let me figure out what I actually want to say to him first. I've been carrying this for two years, Stephanie. I need a minute before I hand it to somebody else.

I sit back down, mostly because she looks like she might actually fall apart if I say no.

One day, I tell her. That's it. If something happens before then, I'm telling him regardless.

Fair, she says, wiping her face one more time, pulling herself back together in pieces. Thank you.

Don't thank me. I don't like keeping this from him.

I know. Me neither. She manages something close to a smile, thin and tired. Guess that makes us the same kind of stupid.

Kingsley's door opens at four thirty. He comes out scanning something on his phone, barely glancing up.

Stephanie. Client call moved to tomorrow morning, nine sharp. Make sure the deck's ready.

Got it, I say.

He's almost past my desk when he stops. He actually looks at me this time, and something shifts in his face.

You okay? He asks. You look like you've had a day.

Long one, I say, keeping it vague, hating the lie even as it leaves my mouth. I'm fine.

He doesn't look convinced. He doesn't push either, and I'm grateful for that and a little unsettled by it at the same time because a version of him from three weeks ago probably would have pushed.

If something's wrong, he says, "Quiet now, you can tell me." I mean that.

I know.

He studies me another second, like he wants to say something else, then he doesn't. Get home safe tonight.

You too.

He almost smiles at that. Small, quick, gone before it fully lands. Then he's back in his office, the door shutting softly behind him, and I'm left sitting there with a lie sitting heavy in my chest and Clara two desks over, pretending to work through the same weight.

I get home a little after seven. I make tea I don't drink. I sit on my couch, scrolling through nothing on my phone, replaying the whole day. Anna's name. Clara's shaking hands. The words are the same as last time,e looping over and over in my head like a song I can't turn off.

My phone buzzes at nine. Kingsley.

Are you sure you're okay? You seemed off today.

I stare at it a long moment before I answer.

I will be. Just a lot on my mind.

Anything I can do?

I almost tell him everything right then. My fingers hover over the screen, the whole story sitting right there, ready to spill out onto the glass. Then I think about Clara's face. The fear in it. The promise I made her for one day.

Not tonight, I write instead. But thank you for asking.

Anytime. I mean that, too.

I set the phone down and curl up on the couch, and I let myself feel, just for a second, something soft and warm underneath all the fear sitting in my chest. He's becoming someone I trust. Somebody who checks on me without being asked to. Somebody who apologizes when he gets things wrong instead of pretending he didn't.

I just don't know yet if trusting him is safe.

My phone buzzes again. Not him this time.

Unknown number.

Tell Clara she made the right choice tonight. Tell her we'll be watching to see if it stays that way.

I sit straight up on the couch, my tea going cold on the table, the warm feeling from a minute ago gone completely, wiped out like it was never there.

Whoever this is, they already know about the conversation in the office. Word for word, close enough that it feels like they were standing right there in the room with us.

Which means somewhere close to me, close enough to hear a quiet conversation at a desk in a mostly empty office, somebody is still listening.