Page 65 of Frankie and the Fed

“Are you flying in a private plane? Like Christian Grey?” The question pops into my head.

“Christian Grey?”

“Yes... You know, fromFifty Shades of Grey. The handsome, rich man every woman dreams of.”

“I’d like to be that rich man every woman dreams of,” he says with a laugh. “But no. I have enough money, but I don’t have planes or helicopters if that’s what you were hoping for. I don’t understand the need for it, I prefer to spend my money on other things. I hope you dream aboutmeat night and not of Christian Grey.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Me too.”

I go to the office after he leaves for the airport, knowing these are my last days here. Yesterday, I submitted my resignation letter to Toby.

In a week, I’ll pack and fly to New York. I planned to give two weeks’ notice, but the holiday issue is ready, and with Christmas coming, Toby thinks there’s no need for me to stay.

I feel the eyes on me before I see them. I look at the surrounding tables. Everyone is looking at their screens, trying not to show any signs of their curiosity. But I notice the sudden movement in every room I pass through, the whispering.

What am I missing?

Maybe I have something on my face? I glance at myself through the glass of the conference room. No, everything looks fine.

Claire. I need to find Claire. The closest to a friend I have here. She’ll tell me what’s up. I enter her office, and she hurries to bury her face in the screen when she sees me approaching, and I realize I was right. Something happened.

“Claire.” I land on the chair next to her desk, and she raises her head as if she hadn’t noticed my existence until that moment.

“Oh, hi, Ayala.”

“Spill it.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is, that has everyone looking at me, and why you’re also afraid to look me in the eye.”

“I... I don’t understand what you’re talking about?”

I gaze at her. “Now.”

She holds my gaze, then makes a few clicks with the mouse and turns the screen to me.

My heart stops.

A large image fills the screen. An enlarged image of my face smashed and broken, with dried blood on my lips. It’s the picture the police took of me after the incident. I take the mouse and scroll down, unable to stop my inclination to run. I cover my face with my hands. They published the picture of Michael’s body. It’s blurry but still shocking.

Where did they get it? These were confidential! And why now?

I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t want Claire and everyone in the office to see me lose it. I run to the bathroom, enter one of the stalls, and lock the door.

The tears are already breaking out. I open the story on my phone, trying to read through the tears what they wrote about me.

The shocking affair at the Summers family home refuses to fade away.

The Summers claim that the other man who was in the apartment, Ethan Wolf, a New York businessman, was Ayala Summers’ lover while she and Michael Summers were married.

Michael Summers surprised them during the act at their lovers’ cabin. The incident became heated, and Mr. Wolf struck and killed Michael.

The family has filed a civil lawsuit against Ayala Summers and Ethan Wolf:

“We are ashamed to say that this adulteress was our son’s wife. He died because of her. Ethan Wolf used his money and resources to bribe the police, and they’re not pressing charges. We will not accept it, and we will not allow them to get away with it without punishment,” said Michael Summers’s mother.