When the man I loved told me he was going to destroy the woman who had once saved my life, he smiled as if he were talking about winning a football pool.
Chapter 1
We were sitting in my kitchen outside Philadelphia, finishing takeout after a long Thursday. Ryan leaned back in his chair, loosened his tie, and said, “Rachel needs to learn she can’t treat people however she wants just because her father owns the company.”
I set down my fork. “What happened between you two?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if you’re this angry.”
His jaw tightened. Ryan had worked for Ashford Logistics for almost four years, first in operations and then as a regional planning supervisor. Rachel Ashford, my closest friend, was vice president of corporate development and the daughter of the company’s founder. She was also my employer.
That last part made the conversation dangerous.
Ryan gave a short laugh. “Everybody over there worships her. Daddy’s little princess walks into a room, says three sentences, and suddenly she’s the smartest person in the building.”
“That doesn’t sound like Rachel.”
“You don’t work with her the way I do.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of that. I had spent two years driving Rachel to meetings, arranging her calendar, handling personal errands, sitting outside conference rooms, and listening to her rehearse presentations in the back seat. I knew exactly how hard she worked.
But I also knew that friendship could make a person blind, so I tried to be fair.
“Then tell me what she did.”
Ryan stared at me for several seconds. “She embarrassed me in front of senior management.”
“How?”
“She questioned numbers in a report I submitted.”
“Were the numbers wrong?”
“That’s not the point.”
I felt something cold move through my stomach.
He leaned forward. “She thinks she can make people look incompetent whenever she wants. So I’m going to return the favor.”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Ryan.”
He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. “Relax, Daniel. I’m not going to hurt her.”
That was my name, Daniel Mercer, and at thirty-two I had learned that whenever somebody said relax in a situation where you had every reason not to, it usually meant trouble was already in the room.
“What are you going to do?”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “There’s a project coming up. Big presentation. Lots of visibility. She’s responsible for part of it.”
“And?”
“And maybe some information doesn’t get where it needs to go. Maybe a file gets changed. Maybe she walks into that room believing she has the right numbers when she doesn’t.”
I stared at him.
For a moment I actually thought I had misunderstood.
“You’re talking about sabotaging her.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“You just told me you’re going to alter information so she fails in front of senior executives.”
“I said maybe.”
“That could affect the company. It could affect people’s jobs.”
“No one’s going to lose their job.”
“You don’t know that.”
Ryan pushed his chair back. “There you go. Defending her again.”
“This isn’t about defending Rachel. This is about you deliberately setting somebody up.”
“Somebody who deserves it.”
“No.”
The word came out harder than I intended.
Ryan looked surprised.
I stood and carried our plates to the sink mostly because my hands needed something to do. “Don’t do this. Whatever happened between you, complain to HR, talk to your manager, request a transfer. But don’t sabotage her.”
“You really are loyal to those Ashfords, aren’t you?”
The way he said loyal bothered me.
Rachel had never asked for blind loyalty. In fact, she had done more for me than anyone in my family had, and she had never once held it over my head.
When I was nineteen, I told my parents I was gay. My father stood in the hallway holding my suitcase while my mother cried in the living room and told me I had brought shame into the house. By midnight, I no longer had a home.
My parents stopped paying my tuition. Most of my relatives stopped calling. I dropped out of a private university I could no longer afford and spent months trying to work enough hours to keep myself fed.
Rachel had been my friend since freshman orientation. I had known she came from money, but I had no idea how much because she wore old jeans, drove a five-year-old Honda, and complained about cafeteria food like everybody else.
When I had nowhere to go, she let me sleep in the spare room of her apartment.
When I started waking from nightmares convinced my whole family hated me, she paid for counseling after I admitted I couldn’t afford it.
She never called those things favors.
Years later, after she joined her family’s company, she called me one afternoon and asked, “How attached are you to that miserable warehouse job?”
“Emotionally? Not at all.”
“Good. I need a driver and executive assistant. Somebody I trust who can also tell me when I’m being ridiculous.”
I laughed.
Then she told me the salary.
I thought she was joking.
The job changed my life. I had health insurance, a retirement plan, paid vacation, and enough money to stop counting every dollar before buying groceries. Most days I drove a beautiful company SUV, managed appointments, picked up documents, coordinated meals, and listened to my best friend complain about meetings.
Ryan knew all of that.
He also knew I loved Rachel like family.
So when he looked at me across my kitchen and said, “Stay out of this,” I felt as if I were seeing a stranger sitting in my boyfriend’s chair.
“We’ve been together almost a year and a half,” I said quietly. “You know what she means to me.”
“And you know what I mean to you.”
“That’s why I’m asking you not to do this.”
He stood, grabbed his jacket, and kissed my cheek as though the argument were finished. “Forget I said anything.”
“Are you going to stop?”
He opened the door.
“Ryan.”
He looked over his shoulder. “She won’t see it coming.”
Then he left.
I barely slept that night.
By sunrise, I knew what I had to do.
What I did not know was that warning Rachel would cost Ryan his job—and reveal that our entire relationship had begun with a lie.
