The Shadow Designer

Chapter 2 Erasing the Shadow

That night, I went to Julian's penthouse instead of my small apartment. I had lived there for four years, but nothing in it carried my name.

I started in the kitchen.

The refrigerator held my weekly meal plan for Julian's ulcers, recipes for bone broth, and lists of anti-inflammatory foods.

Every week, I had portioned his snacks and sorted his medication. He had never once asked how long it took.

I tore down the lists. The magnets clicked against the steel and the papers went into the trash.

In his study, a leather notebook sat at the corner of his desk.

It contained the birthdays of clients' children, his largest investor's favorite scotch, and a reminder about flowers for a rival's wife on her anniversary.

Julian called it his instinct for people. I had written every page.

I fed the notebook into the shredder one sheet at a time. Names and dates vanished between the blades.

Four years of reminders dropped into the bin as strips of paper. So much for Julian's instinct for people.

I switched off the machine. The bin was packed with narrow strips of paper.

The next morning, I carried my resignation into Julian's office. Serena was already there, searching through one of his drawers.

She found a small velvet box and opened it.

“What is this cheap thing?”

Inside was the sterling silver tie clip I had molded and polished for our second anniversary.

Serena dropped it. Her pointed heel knocked it under the heavy desk, where it struck the wall with a thin metallic click.

Julian watched the whole thing.

“It's cheap junk,” he told her. “It was taking up space.”

I laughed once. Even I had not expected the sound. In the last twenty-four hours, the brochure had landed in my bag and the tie clip under his desk. There was nothing left to argue about.

“You're right.” I crossed the room and pressed the resignation against his tailored jacket. “Some things belong in the trash.”

He snatched the pages from me. “Is this another little game?”

“Sign it.”

“You want more money? A better title?” He grabbed his pen. “Fine. Tell me what price will end this performance.”

I said nothing.

His signature cut across the bottom of the resignation. “You won't last three days out there. You'll come back and ask me to forgive you.”

I took the signed letter before he could change his mind.

“Keep a copy,” I said. “You'll need the date.”

I walked to the elevator. Behind me, Serena asked Julian whether they should order lunch.

The doors closed before I heard his answer.