Chapter 3

A high, agonized howl tore out of him.

Adam's hand, already reaching to grab a fistful of my hair, jerked, then snatched back.

The same hand that had slapped me pulled back too.

He dropped with a thud, curled up on his knees, both hands clutched over his groin.

The crowd of coworkers gasped and instinctively fell back a step.

Then, catching up to what had happened, they surged in again.

A few of the women I was close with grabbed my hand, checking it, tense.

"Layla, are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he…"

"Your forearm's all red and swollen. He put everything into that slap!"

"This guy's actually sick! He started it, he lost the argument, and he still has the nerve to throw hands!"

…

The three men who'd been backing Adam up crowded around him.

They stole nervous glances at me, hesitated, then gave his shoulder a little push.

"You… you okay? How are you doing…"

Before they finished, Adam, seemingly already recovering a little, snapped his head up.

His face was twisted, teeth clenched viciously, glaring straight at me.

That look said he wasn't done.

Right then a male coworker stepped in between me and Adam.

He raised his hand, pointed at the camera in the corner of the ceiling, then pointed at me.

"You hit him too hard. You're in the wrong."

Then he pointed at Adam.

"You started it, you kept pushing it further, and you threw the first punch. You're in the wrong."

"Keep this up, let it blow up, and the two of you and all of us standing around watching are going to get burned."

"There's no point."

Adam wasn't hearing any of it.

"Screw her! She hit me where it counts. I'm not letting this bitch off after that—"

He didn't finish the shout before the coworker cut him off.

"Hit you where it counts? And you're back on your feet in under thirty seconds?"

"Fine, fight then. Go on, keep fighting. I'll go get the boss right now."

"I'll 'make up for my part,' clear my own name out of it."

"You two can beat each other bloody, and none of it touches me."

He finished and turned to go.

Adam, mid-curse, still had his mouth open.

But suddenly there was no sound coming out.

The coworker glanced at him, stopped, then looked over at me, sizing me up.

He paused.

"Good. No more of this. It ends here."

"Break it up, break it up. Nothing happened. Nothing happened."

He waved his arms, scattering the crowd.

A few of the women shot Adam a hard glare and pulled me away.

…

Adam had picked this particular day on purpose.

Used arguments so absurdly, indefensibly wrong even he couldn't walk them back, all to attack me.

And in the end it had escalated to a fight, one that only barely got stopped.

There was no way he'd just let it go.

I stayed on guard against him.

I figured he'd act up again fast, come after me again.

But for two straight days, nothing.

On the work we had to coordinate on, he didn't trip me up once.

He just wore a sour face.

Had he changed?

Had the boss, had the office cameras really cowed him?

And just as I was puzzling over why nothing was happening on my end, something happened on my mother's.

At the factory where she worked, one of the production lines came down with a roar.

In the deafening crash, I watched the dust billow up into the air, and my heart lurched.

I called my mother in a panic.

The call had barely rung once when a woman grabbed my arm.

"You… you're Serena's daughter?"

"Yes, it really is you, oh no, your mother…"

Her finger pointed at the center of all that rising dust.

"Your mother, she… she's still in there!"