Elmore stepped out of the cubicle. He held his phone to his ear, his voice a low, demanding bark as he ordered his executive assistant, M. Sheppard, to have his private chef team deliver a custom meal within the hour.
An hour later, Elmore walked down the hospital corridor carrying a heavy, dark-matte paper bag with a gold foil logo. His footsteps felt heavy, dragging against the linoleum.
He stopped outside the staff break room. The door was cracked open an inch. Through the sliver of space, he saw Kendal sitting on a worn vinyl sofa. Her head was tipped back against the wall, her eyes closed, her fingers massaging the back of her neck in exhaustion.
Elmore pushed the door open. His massive frame blocked the fluorescent light from the hallway.
Kendal's eyes snapped open. The moment she saw him, the exhaustion vanished, replaced by a hard, defensive glare. She stood up immediately, grabbing her bag to leave.
Elmore stepped quickly into the room. He set the expensive food bag on the plastic table. His voice cracked slightly as he begged her to eat, mentioning that he remembered how bad her stomach cramps got when she skipped meals.
Kendal stopped. She looked at the bag, then up at his face. A cold, mocking laugh escaped her lips. She asked him who he was performing this pathetic display of affection for.
She walked straight to the table. She grabbed the handles of the bag. Without a second of hesitation, she turned and walked to the large red biohazard trash can in the corner.
She opened her fingers. The heavy bag hit the bottom of the plastic bin with a loud, hollow thud.
Elmore's hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles turned bone-white. A flash of dark, violent hurt crossed his eyes, but he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper to keep his face blank.
Kendal looked at him with dead eyes. She told him to stop doing things that made her sick to her stomach. She walked past him and out the door.
Her shift was over. Elmore followed her at a distance, a ghost haunting her footsteps. He watched her swap her lab coat for a tan trench coat and walk toward the hospital's underground parking garage.
Elmore stayed in the shadows of the concrete pillars, keeping thirty feet between them. The air in the garage was thick with the smell of exhaust and damp concrete.
Kendal stopped beside a black Volvo SUV. She pressed the button on her key fob. The headlights flashed twice, illuminating the dark space.
Elmore leaned against a pillar, his eyes tracking her every move.
She opened the driver's side door but didn't get in immediately. She leaned across the center console to move something off the passenger seat.
The dome light inside the car clicked on.
Elmore's eyes locked onto the interior. His breathing stopped.
Sitting on the passenger seat was a brightly colored, plastic Transformer toy.
It was a toy for a young boy. It had absolutely no place in Kendal's life.
Before his brain could process the toy, his eyes dropped to her left hand resting on the steering wheel.
Under the yellow glow of the dome light, a massive, perfectly cut diamond engagement ring flashed on her ring finger.
The flash of light hit Elmore's eyes like a physical blade. The blade drove straight through his ribs and twisted violently in his heart.
A wave of dizziness hit him so hard the concrete floor seemed to tilt. He slammed his palm against the rough pillar to keep himself from falling to his knees. His lungs burned as he gasped for air.
Kendal sat back in the driver's seat. She pulled her phone from her pocket. The screen lit up her face. Elmore could see the notification bubble. It was a message from someone named "Charles."
As Kendal read the screen, the hard lines of her face softened. The corners of her mouth lifted into a genuine, tender smile.
That smile shattered the last remaining pillar of Elmore's sanity. A roaring sound filled his ears. His blood boiled with a toxic, consuming jealousy. He wanted to sprint across the concrete, smash the car windows, and tear the ring off her finger.
But he stayed frozen. He remembered the fierce, protective look in her eyes eight years ago. If he moved now, she would look at him with hatred.
The Volvo's engine roared to life. Kendal backed out of the space and drove toward the exit ramp.
Elmore stood alone in the dark, breathing in the smell of her exhaust. He pulled his phone from his pocket. His thumb hit the speed dial.
When Sheppard answered, Elmore's voice was a dead, hollow sound from the bottom of hell. He ordered a full background check on a man named Charles.
