Chapter 123

The policemen don’t seem to notice or care about my shock. They just continue speaking as if delivering a report.

“We’ve removed the trespassers from your property. However, we cannot remove them from public property, which includes the sidewalk and the street. We will keep a car stationed here for the time being, to ensure that everyone stays on their own side.”

“My children have to get to school,” I say. I feel numb, like I’m watching this happen to someone else. This can’t be happening to me. “I have to get to work.”

“We can escort you and your children where you need to be,” the head policeman says. “I wouldn’t recommend you going anywhere outside of this house on your own right now. That being said, we are not your bodyguards. Our only interest is in preserving the peace.”

“I understand…”

“Our daughters will not be going to school today,” Garnar says from behind me. “They might never be able to go to school again. I have no idea how they won’t be humiliated and bullied daily. All thanks to their mother’s shameless behavior.”

“Garnar,” I say, scolding lightly. Our business is our business. We shouldn’t be airing it out in front of the policemen.

“If they’re fathers, they’ll agree with me,” Garnar says. “You were selfish, Esther.”

That doesn’t mean much, coming from him. He was the man who initially tore our family apart by having an affair with my sister.

I don’t have much grounds to defend myself right now though, having brought this chaos to our door.

The policemen seem more sympathetic with Garnar than with me. One of them even nods soundly.

“Maybe if I go to work, I can draw most of them away,” I say.

The head policeman nods to one of his co-workers. “As I said, we will have a car escort you. It will be a zoo as soon as you exit this door though. Just so you know. We aren’t here to protect you…”

“Just to maintain the peace, I know,” I say. “Please give me twenty minutes to get showered and dressed.”

The policemen file back outside. Already, through the crack in the door, I can hear the call of many reporters asking for me, asking me questions.

“Are you having an affair with Representative Hamilton?”

“Is that Miles Hamilton in the photo?”

“What do you think of this scandal?”

“Esther! Esther Owens!”

The moment the door closes, I bury my head in my hands.

“You did this, not just to yourself but to all of us,” Garnar says coldly. “You had better find a way to fix it.”

“I will,” I say, my words muffled by my hands but no less honest. “I’ll fix this somehow.”

Garnar doesn’t believe me. I don’t need him to say a word to know that’s true. He tells me enough with a disgusted huff, as he turns and heads back into the house.

Leaving the house is as traumatic as I worried it would be. Even with a policeman’s escort, the reporters shout and crowd around us. They shove microphones in my face and flash pictures right in my eyes.

The policemen don’t think I’ll be able to get my own car out of the driveway so they put me into the back of one of their police cars and drive me to work.

I feel like a criminal.

There are reporters outside of the Harbinger News Company building as well, but there’s also more security. I’m left mostly alone as I leave the police car and head into the building, though the shouts still follow me.

Inside, I exhale a shaky breath.

I feel safe for the length of the elevator, until I arrive on the floor of my cubicle. Then, I notice the staring. Quietly, I move to my seat and try to ignore the way everyone is looking at me.

Undoubtedly, they want to ask me. They want to know.

Likely only work rules keep them from directly accosting me, but I can hear the whispers.

“Do you think it’s Miles?”

“They did seem close…”

“That interview was fire…”

“It has to be Miles.”

Lowering my head, I try to focus on my work and ignore the whispers, all without leaving my desk. I know, the moment I leave my desk, I might be approached.

I make it all the way until just after lunch, when I really have to go to the bathroom. But… no one would approach me in the bathroom, right? That’s a sacred place.

Hoping and praying, and not having much choice, I get up and move quickly down the hall to the bathroom. Blessedly, no one is inside when I open the door. With relief, I rush into a stall.

When I come back out and head to the sink, Sabrina walks through the door. She glances at me. I quickly avert my gaze from her, focusing on washing my hands.

When I look up again, she is still standing there, just inside the door.

At this point, I’m honestly considering never using a public bathroom again for as long as I live.

“We can talk in here, girl to girl,” Sabrina says, smiling at me. “Whatever we say doesn’t have to leave these walls.”

I doubt that. Not only is Sabrina a reporter, she is a ruthless one, tracking down leads like she has the nose of a bloodhound. It makes her a very good reporter.

It also makes me very nervous, because right now that bloodhound nose has caught my scent.

I’m the lead.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I say.

“Who was the man in the photo?” she asks, straight to the point.

“Does it matter?” I dodge.

Her eyes narrow. A dodge is not a denial. Maybe I should have denied it was Miles, but denying too quickly is as suspicious as a dodge.

God, help me, I’m playing some kind of 5-d chess right now.

“Is he a good kisser?” she asks.

“Who?” I reply.

“The man in the photo.”

“I suppose.”

Sabrina starts to smile, like she’s enjoying this chase. Or maybe she can see the noose tightening around my neck.

“That bathroom looks familiar,” she says. “Where were you?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Why lie about that?”

“That could be any number of bathrooms.”

Sabrina’s smiles curves farther. “Why, Esther. You do enjoy yourself, don’t you? Just how many bathrooms are you in, seducing younger men?”

I swallow thickly. She caught me there. I’ll just keep her guessing. “Who says they are all younger men?”

Sabrina laughs. “Holding you up like that is something only a younger man could achieve. Men older than you all have shitty backs and knees.”

That feels like a dig on my age, but I let it slide. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right kind of men.”

“I suppose I haven’t,” Sabrina says. “Then again, I don’t prefer sex in bathrooms. It’s so… messy.” She glances around the bathroom. Even though it’s clean, she gives it a disgusted look. “To each their own, I suppose. If it works for you…”

This feels like another slight, but I take this too, on the chin.

She wants me to get angry and have a reaction. Angry people make mistakes.

“I have to get back to work now,” I tell her, and indicate that she should move from the door.

She does, sidestepping slightly. I still have to move uncomfortably close to her to get to the door.

There, she hums and says, “Is your lover really Miles Hamilton?”