Chapter3 He Found Out I’m Leaving
902 Words
Lynn’s POV
Richardson’s office feels smaller than usual, the mahogany walls closing in as I sit across from his massive desk. My hands are steady in my lap, but that strange, burning pulse under my skin hasn’t gone away—contained now, sharper.
“Lynn.” Richardson looks up from his screen, concern carving deep lines into his face. “You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t.” My tone is flat, deliberate. “Are there any openings at other offices? Senior partnerships, preferably.”
His brows rise. “This is sudden. Everything alright?”
“I need a change,” I say, spine straight, voice calm. “Somewhere far from here.”
He studies me with those sharp, assessing lawyer eyes. “Well, that’s interesting timing. The Los Angeles branch is looking for a senior partner. Big clients—mergers, acquisitions, IPOs. It’s serious work, serious money.”
Los Angeles. Three thousand miles away.
From Charles. From Amy. From all of this poison.
“I’m interested.”
Richardson blinks, clearly surprised. “Lynn, six months ago you turned down Singapore because you couldn’t leave Charles. What changed?”
His name lands like a punch, but I don’t flinch. “I no longer have that concern.”
Something flickers behind his gaze, but he’s too professional to ask. “You’d be paired with another partner. Top corporate guy. Brilliant, decent. You’d work closely together.”
“That’s fine.” My voice sounds hollow to me, but steady. “I can handle it.”
He opens a file, scanning quickly. “Full partnership track. Corner office. First-year housing provided. But Lynn…” He hesitates. “This would be a complete reset. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
I think of Charles’s hands on Amy’s body.
His voice planning my death.
The five hundred thousand dollars stolen from my accounts.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He prints the contracts, sliding them toward me. The words blur slightly—fatigue, maybe—but the offer is generous. More than generous. I sign every page without hesitation.
“I’ll give you three weeks to relocate,” Richardson says. “Get your affairs in order.”
If only he knew.
I knock on Hannah’s office door, trying to still the faint tremor in my hands. After everything that’s happened, she’s the only person I still trust.
“Come in!” Her warm voice cuts through my thoughts.
She looks up, and her face instantly shifts from professional to worried. “Lynn, honey, you look wrecked. Did you sleep at all?”
“Not really.” I sink into the chair opposite her, exhaustion finally catching up. “I need your help, Hannah. As my lawyer, not just my friend.”
Her expression hardens. “That bastard Charles. What did he do now?”
I unlock my phone and slide it across the desk. “Watch this.”
Her jaw tightens as the video plays—Charles’s voice, Amy’s laughter, his cold, casual talk of making my death look like an accident. The sound of Hannah’s hand slamming on the desk startles even me.
“That son of a b***h is planning to kill you.” Her voice shakes with fury. “Lynn, that’s conspiracy to commit murder.”
“I know.” My tone doesn’t waver. “How fast can we move?”
“With evidence this clear—and the prenup?” I nod. She’s already thinking five steps ahead. “We can file tomorrow. The criminal case will take longer, but it’s strong.”
I pull a folder from my bag and slide it across. “Bank statements. He’s stolen over five hundred thousand from my accounts over the past three years.”
Hannah flips through, her frown deepening. “Restaurants, hotels, jewelry... None of this was for you?”
“Every dinner was a date with my sister. Every hotel room was for them—on my dime.”
Her lips curve into a dangerous smile. “We’ll recover every cent. Plus damages. Plus attorney fees.”
“There’s more.” I hand her another folder. “Amy’s been receiving expensive gifts for years. All purchased by Charles—with my money.”
“Perfect. We’ll add theft and fraud.” Her pen flies across her notepad. “What about your will?”
“I want it changed. Everything to charity. Nothing to Charles. Nothing to Amy.”
“Smart.” She’s already pulling up the forms. “You’ll sign tomorrow.”
Then she pauses, eyes narrowing. “Lynn... are you safe? If that video’s real—”
“I’ll be careful.” I stand, gathering the folders. “Also, I need to sell the house. Immediately.”
“Consider it done.” Hannah leans back, her eyes hard with resolve. “Give me forty-eight hours, and Charles Parker will wish he’d never heard your name.”
I unlock the front door and go straight to the bedroom. Two suitcases, open. Suits, heels, essentials for a new life.
“Lynn?”
Charles’s voice cuts through the quiet. “That you, babe?”
My blood turns to ice. He’s here. I left the door unlocked.
“There you are.” He appears in the doorway, confusion flickering into alarm as his gaze sweeps over the open suitcases, the half-packed clothes.
“Why are you packing?”
- Writer
