Chapter 7 - Shadows of the Past
Recovery, I quickly learned, wasn't a straight line. Even though Julian was behind bars awaiting final sentencing, his ghost still lingered in quiet moments. Sometimes, when a car door slammed too hard outside, or when a stranger in a coffee shop made a sudden movement, my heart would leap into my throat and my hands would freeze.
One evening, while working late at my office downtown, the building’s security lights flickered and died.
The open-plan office plunged into deep shadow, lit only by the pale glow of my computer monitor and the neon signs outside the window. A cold dread washed over me as I heard slow, measured footsteps approaching my desk from the darkened hallway.
My breath hitched. For a terrifying second, my mind flashed back to our apartment kitchen, to Julian’s cold smile and the heavy weight of his hands.
“Lena?”
The voice wasn't Julian’s. It was deeper, rougher, and infinitely more comforting.
I spun around in my office chair just as Marcus, my father’s head of security, stepped into the light of my monitor. He held a takeaway coffee cup in one hand and his phone in the other.
“Sorry if I scared you, Miss Ortiz,” Marcus said apologetically, stepping back. “Your father sent me to check on you. He noticed you were still logged into the company server at nine o'clock on a Saturday.”
I let out a long, shuddering breath, pressing my palms against my face to hide the sudden rush of tears. “I’m fine, Marcus. Just… jumpy.”
Marcus walked over, setting the coffee cup gently on the corner of my desk. “Your father told me something the day we pulled Julian out of that garage. He said trauma is like a broken bone—it hurts the most when the weather changes, but eventually, it heals stronger than before. Don't be hard on yourself for being scared. It means you survived.”
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I looked up at the seasoned bodyguard, seeing past his stoic exterior to the genuine kindness beneath. “Thanks, Marcus. Tell Dad I’m packing up right now and heading home.”
“I’ll escort you down to your car,” Marcus replied firmly. “Standard Ortiz protocol.”
