Divorcing my dead sister's husband

ex pushed me down those stairs. My hand absently touches my stomach, still flat, still empty. "Sixth floor," I whisper to myself, adjusting the collar of my navy blaze

yone else is staring, too. "I'm sorry, what was the question?" Heat crawls up my neck. "I asked if you'd like to share your initial thoughts on the Harper Hotels campaign." I haven't even seen the brief yet, but I force myself to sound confident. "Without reviewing the materials, I'd need to reserve judgment. But I'm familiar with their current positioning in the market, and I think there's an opportunity to elevate their brand story beyond the generic luxury experience they're currently selling." Thomas nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Casey will bring you up to speed after the meeting." The meeting continues, and I make notes, trying to absorb the agency dynamics. There's Casey, the account manager, who rolls her eyes whenever someone named Brandon speaks. Marcus, the art director who sketches continuously while offering brilliant insights. And Thomas, who somehow manages to be both authoritative and approachable, steers the conversation with practiced ease. When the meeting ends, people scatter back to their desks. I stand to leave, but Thomas gestures for me to stay. "You seemed distracted," he says once we're alone. Not accusatory, just observant. "I'm sorry about that. It won't happen again." He leans against the table. "That's not what I'm concerned about. Is everything okay?" I consider lying, saying everything's fine. But something about his genuine concern breaks through my defenses. "My ex-husband texted me," I admit. "He somehow knew what I was wearing today." Thomas's expression hardens. "That's concerning. Do you feel unsafe?" "No," I say quickly, then reconsider. "Maybe. I don't know. He's just trying to rattle me." "Successfully, it seems." I look away. "I'm sorry if it affected my performance." "Daniela," Thomas says gently, "I'm not worried about your performance. I'm worried about you." His sincerity catches me off guard. It's been so long since someone besides Janet has genuinely cared about my well-being. "I'll be fine," I say, though I'm not entirely convinced myself. "It's just part of the divorce process." Thomas doesn't look convinced either. "Intimidation shouldn't be part of any process. If you need to take steps to ensure your safety, the company will support you." "Thank you," I say, genuinely touched. "But I need this job. I need normal." He nods in understanding. "Normal it is, then. Casey's waiting to brief you on Harper Hotels." As I turn to leave, he adds, "But Daniela? If normal becomes impossible, my door is always open." I spend the rest of the morning with Casey, a sharp-witted account manager who walks me through the Harper Hotels rebrand. We sit in a small meeting room, spreading materials across the table. "Madison's been territorial about this account," Casey says, sliding a folder toward me. "But between us, her concepts were falling flat." "So no pressure," I say wryly. Casey laughs. "Major pressure. But Thomas wouldn't have put you on it if he didn't think you could handle it." She taps a market research report. The client meeting is in two weeks. Think you can have fresh concepts by then?" I flip through the report, ideas already forming. "Absolutely." "Good." Casey gathers her things. "Lunch is at twelve-thirty. We usually go as a group to the deli downstairs. You should join." When Casey leaves, I throw myself into the work, grateful for the distraction. The more I read about Harper Hotels, the more excited I become about the creative possibilities. For the first time in months, I feel like myself again, the self that existed before Alex started chipping away at my confidence. At twelve-thirty, Zoe appears at my desk. "Lunch time. You coming?" "I should probably keep working," I begin, but Zoe shakes her head. "Nope. First day tradition. You have to come." Reluctantly, I follow her to the elevator, where several others are waiting, including Marcus, the quiet art director. "How's the first day going?" he asks as we descend. "Good," I say. "Overwhelming, but good." "Harper Hotels is a big account," he observes. "Thomas must think highly of your work." Before I can respond, my phone buzzes again. I ignore it, but it buzzes three more times in quick succession. My heart races as I pull it out. Four new messages from Alex. Enjoying your new friends? Wonder