Page 68 of Obeying

"At first, no. I told him my career was important, and he needed to respect that. He apologized. Said he was being insecure. Bought me a necklace." She shakes her head. "Then a month later, same thing. And again. And again. Until eventually I stopped taking late meetings, stopped traveling, and started checking with him before committing to anything. And I didn't even notice it happening. It was so gradual."

She pauses for a while before continuing. "He told me I only got my promotions because of him," she says, quieter now. "That everyone in the company knew I slept my way up. That without his name backing me, I was nobody." She turns her water glass. "He said if I tried to leave, he'd make sure the whole industry knew it too."

My mouth goes dry. He tried to destroy her, too.

"He was convincing. He had this way of making you feel like the facts were on his side, even when you knew they weren't." She looks at me. "I was good at my job. I earned those promotions. I knew that. But after two years of him saying it, I stopped being sure."

"What made you leave?"

"He started monitoring my phone. My emails. He'd show up at meetings I hadn't told him about, industry events where I was networking. He'd just appear, inviting himself, and no one would bat an eye because of who he was." She takes a sip of water. "When I finally told him I was done, he looked at me and said, very calmly, that he'd make one phone call and my career would be over. And I believed him. Because he could. His family owns that company. His father sits on boards across the state."

She looks at me across the table. "So I left. Not just him. Everything. The city. The industry. My apartment, my friends, my career. I started over in a place where he couldn't reach."

My heart breaks. The same script for both of us. He made her believe her achievements weren't real. He monitored her, isolated her, built a cage around her, and called it love.

I wasn't special. I wasn't uniquely naive or weak or foolish for staying. Miguel Cruz has a system. He's done this before, and he'll do it again. Carmen and I are two chapters in a pattern that probably has names we'll never know.

"Carmen." I lean forward. "Will you give a statement? For the hearing?"

She's quiet for a long time. She looks at her hands on the table, then out the window at the parking lot, then at me.

"I left so I'd never have to say his name again," she says.

"I know. I'm sorry to ask."

"But if I don't, he will do this to someone else."

"Yes."

She nods. Slow, but sure. "Then I'll do it." Her voice is steady, but her eyes are bright. "But make sure you win. Build that case until it's airtight. Because no one believed me the times I tried."

Logan, who's been quiet since she sat, speaks for the first time. "They'll believe her. I'll make sure of it."

She nods, the fear in her eyes replaced with what's in mine: determination.

We both went through the same thing. We both have the same enemy. And we both want him down.

"Thank you, Carmen. For coming here, telling us your side, and agreeing to the statement."

She nods. "You're welcome. I'm glad I can help."

She stands, and Logan and I stand with her. "Good luck, Kristen."

"Thanks. I'll text you when we win."

She smiles, I smile back, and then she's gone.

Logan drives me home. The ride is quiet, the highway dark, the car warm, and I'm staring out the window watching the streetlights pass without really seeing them. My mind is full of Carmen. Her voice. Her story. The way she described leaving everything behind. How I'd once considered the same.

Logan pulls up to my house and parks, but doesn't turn off the engine. I don't move to get out.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

Too many things at once, but only one word comes to mind.

"Validated," I say. "In a way I didn't expect." I look at my hands. "A part of me always wondered if I was just being weak. If maybe I was the problem. Maybe if I'd been stronger, smarter, if I'd seen it sooner…but hearing Carmen's story, hearing the same words, the same tactics..." I swallow. "It was never me. It was always him. He has a system, and I spent three years blaming myself for falling for something that was intentionally designed."

Logan takes my hand.