Chapter 173

At Miles’s insistence, I stay home for another two days before inactivity drives me to actual madness and I insist on returning to work.

As soon as I step foot in the headquarters, the other workers and volunteers bombard me with questions and well wishes. I’ve been missed, it seems, even though I’ve only been gone for four days total. It makes me feel special and wanted and gives me an added jolt I need to focus on my work.

I’ve already given my plan of action for how Miles should deal with Edward, so, for now, I concentrate solely on Miles’s campaign. I plot out his visits, make calls with vendors and locations. I even help my assistants with making the travel arrangements.

Anything I can do to keep my mind off of all the new revelations. The things I have yet to tell Miles about.

Things seem to be going well, until around lunchtime, I notice that more assistants than usual start coming in to check to see if I need help. I know, for facts, that I have given these specific assistants enough work to keep them busy for a full week. No way they should already been finished after three hours. They shouldn’t be coming to me for new work so soon.

The third one is suspicious. The sixth one is far too many.

“I’m doing okay. You should concentrate on your own work for now,” I tell them. As they turn to leave, I stop them. “Wait. I’ve been having a lot of offers for support, and while I appreciate it, I can’t help but notice. Did someone tell you to come in here?”

Maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe I really just look like a wreck and each of them are stepping forward out of kindness to help me pick up the potential slack.

But it just seems so strange. Too many, all in a line.

There has to be something else going on.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the assistant says. “He asked us not to mention it, but Miles himself asked us to check on you throughout the day to make sure you had enough support.”

That answer… Maybe I should have expected it. Given what’s happened and been revealed, Miles has a right to feel overprotective of me and I admire him for it. That being said, I also feel frustrated as well as annoyed.

Have I not always done a good job? Have I given him reason to doubt my abilities? My work ethic?

Does he think I might break down at any moment?

I feel like I’m being babied, and I can’t stand it.

I’m a grown ass woman. Yes, I have trauma. Yes, I might break down on occasion, but also yes, I am capable and badass. I’m not going to let someone as detestable as Edward Zimmer to keep me from doing a good job.

This job is too important to fall apart.

I need Miles to be president now, not just because he is the best choice, but because the other candidate has no place being in a position as prestigious and powerful as president of the United States. The only place he belongs is in jail. Him and every other asshole that ever touched me.

Knowing videos exist that show my abuse makes me want to vomit all over again, but at the same time, their existence might be the saving grace that could finally bring all of my nightmares to justice.

I never knew proof existed. I always thought they’d get away with it.

But now… there’s hope.

The problem is going to be finding it. Edward likely doesn’t just have it lying around, not with how powerful the men are that he’s likely blackmailing.

I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. I’m at work, and I need to concentrate on handling work topics. That includes dealing with this new, unnecessary babying.

It’s not the assistants fault. She was only doing what she was told.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “I will speak with him about it.”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” she says.

“I swear,” I tell her and cross my heart.

I wait for her to leave, then I gather my thoughts.

The more I think about it, the more annoyed I get, until I’m so frustrated that I stand from my desk and march into Miles’s office.

Miles is on the phone when I enter. When he spots me, he makes some excuse and then hangs up.

“Was that important?” I ask him.

“Not as important as you,” Miles says. He stands from his desk and comes around to meet me in the center of the room. He looks like he might want to put his arms around me, but he holds back at the last minute.

Seeing that, I’m even more annoyed. “Miles.”

He smiles though it seems forced. “Yes?”

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him.

“Do what?” he asks.

I want to grab him by the lapels and shake him. I somehow hold myself back, reminding myself that he only means the best. He cares about me, and I’m lucky to have that care, even if he is being too much right now. Overbearing, at worst. Too thoughtful, at best.

“I don’t need six different assistants asking me if I need help,” I tell him. “If I need help, I will go and ask for it. I am manager here, don’t forget. I’m perfectly capable to diverting some of the work to the others if it becomes too heavy.”

“Only six?” he says, frowning.

“Miles, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, sorry.” He refocuses on my face. “Esther, I know you aren’t afraid to ask for help, but I also know you are a woman who likes to hold up a strong front while you push yourself. You don’t have to push yourself. It’s okay to give yourself time to process.”

“I don’t want time to process, Miles. I just want to do my work without being reminded all the time about how fragile I look or how worried I’m making everyone.”

“That’s not what I intended to do.”

“But that’s what is happening,” I tell him. “Every time I am interrupted from my work by a well meaning co-worker, I feel like you don’t see how capable I am.”

“Of course I see how capable you are, Esther. You are the most capable woman I’ve ever known in my entire life. I’m just worried.” He sighs, looking away from me. “I’ve seen you fall apart. And I… I don’t know, Esther. It broke something in me. I have to protect you, no matter what.”

Gently, I lift my hand and touch Miles’s cheek. I rub my thumb along his cheekbone. Looking at me, he leans against my hand.

It’s sweet, his desire to protect me. But there’s nothing he can do to save me from the demons of my past. At least, no more than he’s already doing.

“I’m still me,” I tell him. “I’m the same person I’ve always been. And the best way to help and protect me is to let me do things for myself. I know you are here for me, Miles. But you can’t force me. You can’t baby me.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I’ll try,” he says.

Honestly, that’s as much as I can hope for.

The phone on Miles’s desk starts to ring. To prove that I am capable, I step back, away from Miles, and go to answer the phone.

I lift it with confidence, shooting a playful wink at Miles. He smiles in reply.

“Representative Hamilton’s Campaign Office. How may I direct your call?” I ask.

“Is this not Miles Hamilton’s direct line? I’ve already spoken to his secretary.”

My blood goes cold.

I know that voice, though I haven’t heard it in my ear in many, many years.

It chills me down to my bones.

Edward.