Page 76 of Their Arrangement

Enough to find my spine again.

Camille used to say spreadsheets were like men.

They’ll lie to you if you don’t learn their language.

So I spoke it.

Formula after formula.

Cell by cell.

I corrected every tab, cross-checked totals, rewrote headers. I restructured the budget breakdown like I was carving my name into it.

It didn’t matter if no one noticed.

It mattered that I did.

The whispering never stopped.

But it didn’t cut the same.

Maybe because I’d already bled all over the bathroom floor.

Or maybe because now I knew what they were really afraid of.

Not that I didn’t belong here.

But that I might survive it.

Loyal passed by me once. Then again. The third time, I caught the flick of his eyes.

A glance down the back of my neck.

At the bow.

Still tied.

Still his.

I didn’t turn.

Didn’t flinch.

Just kept typing.

And for the first time all day, my hands didn’t shake.

I hadn’t seen him all day.

Not really.

Glimpses. A glance across the floor. His name in an email. But not him—not the man behind the weight I wore like silk and wire.

Until the elevator.

I stepped in first.

Mid-afternoon. Empty car. I pressed the button for floor five—delivery confirmation for Loyal’s revised numbers. My fingers hovered near the door as it began to close.