Chapter 9 - The Final Threshold
Alejandro watched me grab my car keys from the console table, panic seizing his features once again. He scrambled across the floor, ignoring Chloe entirely, and reached out to grab my wrist.
“Mariana, wait! You can’t just leave me here with them! We need to talk about the divorce, about the house, about—!”
I didn't yell. I didn't pull away with anger. I simply looked down at his hand gripping my arm, and then looked up into his desperate, terrified eyes.
“You spent six years telling your boss that I couldn't survive without you, Alejandro,” I said quietly, my voice like cold steel. “Let’s see how well you survive without me.”
I gently pulled my arm free from his grasp, leaving him kneeling on the hardwood floor between his furious mistress and his betrayed boss.
Without looking back, I pushed open the front condo door and stepped out onto the landing.
The cool night air hit my face, sharp and invigorating. The elevator doors opened immediately, as if waiting for me. I stepped inside, pressed the button for the underground parking garage, and watched the brass doors slide shut, cutting off the sound of Alejandro’s desperate begging and Chloe’s shrill accusations.
When I reached my car, I unlocked the doors, slid behind the steering wheel, and started the engine. The dashboard lights illuminated my face—not the face of a neglected, broken housewife, but the face of a trauma surgeon returning to the theater of life.
I pulled out of the parking garage and merged onto the empty expressway, accelerating into the cool Chicago night.
My phone buzzed constantly on the passenger seat—text messages from Alejandro, missed calls from unknown numbers, legal notifications piling up in real-time. I silenced the ringer and threw the phone into the glove compartment, locking it tight.
May you like
Twenty minutes later, the towering concrete structure of the hospital came into view, its emergency bay bathed in the harsh, pulsing red and blue glare of incoming ambulances.
---
