Stupid and blind.
By choice.
No one's ever called me that to my face but Mr. Everford.
Because...everyone's been lying to me except for him.
They all think I'm stupid, and worse, they want me to stay stu—
The sound of the doorbell ringing breaks me out of my thoughts, and I'm grateful for the distraction. I don't even think about what I'm doing. I'm just glad I have something to do, and so I open the door, thinking it's someone who either works for the hotel or Mr. Everford—
"I knew you'd be here!"
But instead it's my mother-in-law barreling in, and all I can do is cry out as she grabs me by the hair and drags me back inside the suite.
The pain is immediate and disorienting, and I can't believe this is happening. A 64-year-old woman in pearls is dragging me by the hair across a London billionaire's suite.
"How can you do this to my baby boy?"
She lets go of my hair just to slap me on the cheek, and all I can suddenly think of is...no!
So when Risa raises her hand to slap me on the other cheek—
I make a run for it.
Yes, run.
Because I’m still not the confrontational type, but at least I’m not as much as a wimp as I used to be, and so I just...
Run.
And just like I expected...
She runs after me.
Or at least she tries.
But since she's twenty years older and twenty kilos heavier—
I know she can never catch me.
So I slow down just enough for her to think otherwise.
I just want her away from Mr. Everford.
"You bitch!"
I think she's saying that because I took the stairwell and not the elevator.
It’s a very smart thing to do, and that needs to be said because I’m not as stupid as everyone think I am, and so Risa with her bad knees on a stairwell is Risa who's going to lose her breath after one flight—
"I'll kill you, I swear!"
—and apparently still keep yelling while she does.
My thoughts drift back to my husband's boss even as I continue running down the stairs like I’m training for, I don’t know, whatever it is that other people train for when I see them running up and down the stairs.
I wonder how long will it take for him to realize I'm not coming back, and I wonder if he’ll think I’m ungrateful and...and ill-mannered for not even—