“We have medical and compliance reports,” Graham replied.
“Sit down.”
“Everyone does it,” Ethan muttered.
“Today we’re discussing yours,” compliance answered.
Graham opened an envelope. “Ethan Cross, you are suspended effective immediately pending investigation.
Access revoked. Contract terminated for serious misconduct.”
Ethan stared at me.
“You’re ruining me.”
“No,” I said.
“I’m protecting myself.”
That afternoon he called from unknown numbers. I didn’t answer. My lawyer filed for a restraining order.
I submitted all evidence.
Two weeks later, escorted by police and a locksmith, I returned to the apartment to collect my belongings.
In a drawer, I found an envelope from the Venice agency—tickets printed in Ethan’s name and another woman’s.
I photographed it. More proof.
I locked the door with a new key and walked away.
That night, Mara asked, “And now?”
I looked at my steady hands.
“Now I have my life back.
And Venice? He can pay for it himself.”
