"Mr. Harper?" Emma called, tentatively knocking on the open door of her boss's office.

"Yes, Mrs. Murdock. What can I do for you?"

"I apologize, but I'm not feeling well. Would you mind if I left early? I can take the manuscript home with me and finish it over the weekend."

"That's not necessary. I can't recall you taking a vacation or sick day in the five years you've been here. Go home. Rest. Start fresh on Monday."

"Thank you, Mr. Harper," she said, squinting her eyes against the building migraine. He wasn't entirely wrong. She had used a handful of sick days, but Todd had only finished law school two years ago, so a vacation had been out of the question.

When he didn't pass the bar exam on his first go-round, his father made him spend another year with private tutors before he could try again. Then he hit the ground running. This past year, Todd had spent more time at the office than at home. Days, nights, weekends, it didn't matter. Luckily, Emma enjoyed being by herself as long as she wasn't alone in life.

Maybe if she felt better after a nap, she could make Todd's favorite stuffed chicken with scalloped potatoes and surprise him with dinner at the office. Kimmy was hired as a secretary for one of the senior partners about six months ago, and she seemed to live at work as well. Dinner sounded like a good idea for all three of them, after some Tylenol and sleep that is.

The hour drive felt like ten, so when Emma pulled into the parking lot, she seriously contemplated just closing her eyes right there in the driver's seat of their RAV4. Reaching for that iron will that got her through most things in life, she opened the door and stepped into the nippy fall drizzle. September had just begun, and she already needed to pull out their winter clothes.

"Note to self, Todd's heavier suits need dry cleaning," she told herself.

Walking into their apartment, she quietly set her things down and pushed off her shoes, avoiding any noise that might cause her head to throb worse than it already did. After grabbing some water in the kitchen and swallowing down a couple of pills, she made a beeline straight for the bedroom, ready to collapse from the pain.

Emma wasn't sure if it was her gasp or the shattering of glass on the black stone floor that drew their attention, but she would never forget the look on their faces. Kimmy seemed embarrassed and minutely apologetic, biting her lip with what could only be described as a shrug, and Todd was lost mid-orgasm, finishing before he collapsed on top of Emma's only friend.

"Hey, mouse. You're home early," he mumbled into Kimmy's large breasts.

"I have a migraine," Emma said quietly, her mind refusing to cooperate as the first tear streaked down her cheek. "What... When did... Why?"

Todd finally lifted himself off of Kimmy, standing and pulling the condom down his deflating dick.

"Now that you know, this will be a lot easier," he grunted in annoyance.

"You want a divorce," she stated, her heart splintering and fear setting in.

"No. Father would never allow it. You're an excellent wife, but you can't meet my needs. Kimmy can. I don't mind if you take a lover as long as you're discreet. The press can never get wind of this."

"You... you want to continue having sex with my friend?"

"Is she really your friend?" he asked smugly.

"Hey," Kimmy shouted from her spot on Emma's side of the bed. "Of course, I am. It's better your husband has a mistress you know and like. You've always loved French culture, so pretend we're like that movie 5 to 7."

"Do you even love me?" Emma asked, ignoring Kimmy entirely. She couldn't handle seeing them both, knowing there was no one she could call.

"Love is a silly notion. I've always liked you just fine. You fit the needs of my family and position. Don't get gooey now, mouse. I married you for your practical side. You wanted companionship, and I needed a wife who would help me rank in the polls. It was a win, win."

"Eight years," she said quietly. "In eight years, have you ever been in love with me?"

"Why don't you take a nap in the guest room. We'll clean up, and then we can all get some dinner and discuss how this will work."

Emma knew her self-esteem was low, but it wasn't until today that she found her limit. She quietly turned, closing the door behind her, and retraced her steps-shoes, coat, satchel, purse, keys. Back in the RAV4, she sat like she had never left the driver's seat, wishing she had fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing.

A quick search online and she located a divorce attorney that ranked as one of the best in the city. Leaving the senator's son, she would need it. If she didn't do this now, Mr. Murdock would talk her out of it, twist her thoughts, and she would end up more alone than she had ever been before.

Due to who she was, Alister Greene, of Bush, Greene & Dower, agreed to meet immediately. After a two-hour conversation, Emma was shocked at how accommodating he was, putting her in a company apartment until she figured things out, having dinner delivered that evening, and agreeing to handle everything. It was exactly what she needed.

Two weeks passed. She had gone and packed a couple of bags while Todd was at the office, but other than her change of address, Emma's daily routines stayed the same. Her husband didn't reach out once, but she had lunch with his mother twice. Mrs. Murdock had always been kind to her and would be someone Emma would miss even if they weren't necessarily close.

At their first lunch, Mrs. Murdock asked Emma for her side of the story and prodded for what it would take to keep her married to Todd. Emma admitted that she didn't want to uproot her life, but the one thing she needed most, Todd would never give her, love. Her mother-in-law suggested it might grow if they went to counseling and stayed monogamous. Emma agreed to try if Todd would stay loyal and attend weekly sessions.

The following week they met for lunch again, and Mrs. Murdock had tears in her eyes. Both her husband and son had told her to lie to Emma, but she couldn't do it. Todd was not interested in fixing or building anything. They talked about etiquette, the press, and what the fall-out might be, then parted ways for the last time.

Mr. Greene called her that evening for a meeting the next day. Apparently, her mother-in-law had been the liaison for the whole affair, and contracts were already drawn up. After Mrs. Murdock relayed the details of their conversation at lunch, the senator had called his attorneys and made an offer if Emma would disappear quietly.

"They've agreed to pay all legal fees and the taxes on a two-million-dollar settlement. You have to sign an NDA and agree to never contact anyone in the Murdock family again. It's all pretty straightforward."

"It's more than I expected. If you approve of the documents, I have no problem signing them. Do I need to leave the apartment tonight?" Emma asked, initialing where Mr. Greene indicated.

"Seeing as the senator is paying my office, I don't care how long you stay," he said with his oily grin.

The man was a snake, but he was her snake, so it worked out for the best.

"I'll be out as soon as possible. A week perhaps."

"That's not a problem. The contract says you have to return to your maiden name immediately. I've already got the paperwork started and have included it in my invoice for Senator Murdock. I can have it done in two weeks, so that is technically your deadline as far as our interactions are concerned."

"Thank you, Mr. Greene, for everything."

"It's been my pleasure. You kicked off my fourth quarter with a bang. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Not at the moment. I'll call if I think of anything."

"You have a good evening then, Ms. Porter."

That night Emma lay in the strange bed, her mind circling back to the same thing over and over. She was alone, completely, utterly alone. She had always thought if she stayed in one place long enough, friendship and love would find her. After nearly ten years in Seattle, she believed it had, but it turned out that twenty-eight wasn't all that different than eighteen.

"This bed is better than the one in my first dorm," she said to the quiet dark, searching for something that had improved in her life. "I guess I have more money now, too."

Sleep was not Emma's friend that night, and her Saturday morning routine felt stilted. When there was a sharp rap at the front door, she nearly screamed. Other than her attorney, no one knew she was here, which is why she was even more surprised to see her father-in-law, ex father-in-law, through the peep hole.

"Mr. Murdock," she exclaimed, opening the door. "Please, come in. I've just made a pot of coffee. Would you like some?"

"Always the gracious hostess. I would appreciate that, Emma," he smiled, handing her his coat.

"Would you prefer the kitchen table or the living room?"

"The kitchen would be fine," he said, walking in behind her.

His gaze had always unnerved Emma. It wasn't inappropriate per se, but it lingered and missed nothing. She grabbed her long cardigan from the chair where she had been reading and put it on, feeling exposed in her tank top and yoga pants.

Over the years, she had served him coffee enough to know he liked one spoon of sugar, so she prepared their drinks and returned with both mugs. Sitting across from him felt odd. Emma could count on one hand the times they had been alone, and it had always been coincidental.

"My son is an idiot. You are exactly the type of woman he needs-smart, polished, quiet, beautiful. If I were ten years younger... and not married," he chuckled, "I would never let you get away."

Emma felt the heat rise to her cheeks and gripped her coffee cup so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Take a breath, sweet girl. It was merely a compliment," he smiled. "I'm here to ask a few favors that were not in the contract. You've always been fair and disinterested in gossip or scandals, another trait that I appreciate. I didn't think it was necessary to include what I am about to ask."

She looked back up at him, noting his kind smile and soft eyes. Emma nodded for him to continue.

"This is going to sound harsh, so please understand that's not how I intend it to be. We need you to fade away. Instead of showing up in the papers, my PR team hope they will simply forget you were ever here. That is not to say that I will forget you. What are your plans now that the divorce is nearly finalized?"

"Find an apartment," she shrugged, hoping the impact of his words didn't show on her face. Being forgotten was her deepest fear, and some sense of self-preservation didn't want him to know.

"Emma, I would like you to leave Seattle. The city has never suited your personality. You're shy. If you didn't go to work each day, I doubt you would ever leave your home. You should look for small towns, places where you could get to know a few people but otherwise be left alone. To make this easier, I've changed the title to the RAV4. It's yours."

"Mr. Murdock," Emma interrupted hastily, "I had no intention of keeping the car. It was just until I could get something else."

He chuckled, reaching over to clasp her forearm, his thumb sweeping gently. "Sweet girl, you'll need it to do what I'm asking. You can have anything in the apartment as long as my team handles the move. We don't want you seen leaving the building with more than your purse in hand. You need to remain as invisible and ordinary as you always are."

Emma gently pulled her arm away and dropped her hands to her lap. His words kept picking at her insecurities, open wounds that had been bleeding out from the moment Todd told her to go to the guest room. How did Mr. Murdock know her so well? Was she that transparent?

His smile looked kind, but his words continued to stab at her broken insides. "Sorry to overstep, but elections are coming up, and I had to control the story here. As you read in your NDA, you can't tell anyone what has happened. Since you're a terrible liar, I spoke with your boss. Mr. Harper believes that you will be traveling with my son during my campaign and has agreed to allow you to work remotely."

Emma was a bit stunned, but she had also grown accustomed to the overbearing ways of the Murdock men. Before the divorce, she had even appreciated the direction and assertiveness that kept her life free of surprises.

"Where am I supposed to go?" she stammered, her eyes boring holes in the tabletop.

"That's your choice. I don't care if it's an hour away or another country. The expense of moving will be taken care of no matter where you choose. Once you end up in your final destination, there will be no further contact.

"The only number I want you to keep is my personal cell. If you are contacted by the press or Todd, I want you to call me immediately. And Emma, if you were ever in trouble, you could reach out. You're too good a person to abuse that offer."

She sat, absorbing his words for a moment before speaking. "Thank you. I would prefer to never be in the papers again, so I will accept your assistance moving. Though I don't plan on taking much. And I like the idea of leaving Seattle... I think. As long as I can keep my job, it sounds like a nice change.

"My only stipulation is that the cutting of ties is for both parties, barring the calls you requested, of course. I don't want to return for any photos or interviews or coverups. If I leave, I'm not coming back for any reason."

Her voice was soft, but there was an unpracticed thread of steel in her words as well. She felt like so little of her was left, and it seemed important to guard the fragments.

"Amenable even in adversity. You have my word, Emma," Mr. Murdock promised, standing to shake on it.

Emma stood, but when she took his hand, he pulled her in for a hug, something he had only done once, on her wedding day.

"Take care of yourself, sweet girl," he murmured, kissing the top of her head before abruptly turning and leaving the small apartment.

The gesture left her nearly as rattled as the conversation. Needing something to calm the shaking in her hands, she stepped into the kitchen to prepare an omelet filled with tender strips of steak, Swiss cheese, peppers, and onion. Cooking often soothed her, but his words played on repeat.

'Fade away... simply forget you were ever here... I doubt you would ever leave your home... there will be no further contact.'

How easy it would be for her to never have existed. That thought was not new in Emma's head. It was at the very core of her desire to belong, to have someone who cared about her, who loved her.

Moving was something Emma was intimately acquainted with, and in the past, it had caused extreme amounts of anxiety, but as she opened her laptop, the first little spark of hope rekindled in her chest. Perhaps Mr. Murdock was right. A small town might be what she needed to find her place in this world.

After spending some time creating her pros and cons list, it looked much like the one she had made for selecting universities. The last place she and her mother had called home was Pensacola, so that helped her rule out Florida and most of the South. She had chosen Washington state for the weather, favoring gray skies and winter over too much sun and heat.

Emma preferred the west coast for the land, culture, and lifestyle in general. She loved the ocean but figured any large body of water would do. There were a few towns in Colorado that caught her eye, along with Oregon and Idaho, but each time she researched real estate outside of Washington, her insides clenched, and she fought back nausea.

In the end, she decided it was smarter to stay close enough that she could visit the office if Mr. Harper ever required her physical presence. Emma narrowed the scope on her map to a three-hour radius around the city. She then searched for towns with less than twenty thousand people, creating a spreadsheet that included local crime rates, healthcare options, average home value, property taxes, and proximity to a twenty-four-hour grocery store.

Emma had been online for hours, completely missing lunch, and finally took a break to whip up a pasta puttanesca. Todd hated this dish, so despite it being her favorite, Emma hadn't prepared it in years. There was something about the combination of strong flavors-anchovies, capers, olives, and crushed red pepper-that left her feeling invigorated.

Sitting down with a heaping bowl, she scraped a clove of garlic across the toasted surface of the fresh sourdough bread and dug in with a satisfied hum of approval. Her eyes drifted back to the map on her laptop screen, landing on Olympia which she had yet to visit despite wanting to for years. Continuing up, a town name caught her attention.

Emma set down her fork and zoomed in to the small dot that sat among the estuaries of the bay.

"Shelter Cove," she mumbled, dinner forgotten as she started her Google search.

An hour later and the little town had successfully checked all her boxes, two hours from the city, on the water, low crime rate, decent economic range, a little over eleven thousand people, and a name that made her feel like it could be a place to call home.

Twisting the cold pasta around her fork, Emma started scanning real estate sites. She had given herself a budget of three hundred thousand or less. Her experience with money was like everything else in life, fleeting. She hoped with responsible spending and proper investments, the settlement would permanently remove any financial burdens. By the tenth page of listings, she was ready to call it a night when a house stood out on the page.

It was old, 1937, according to the property details. The house was built of wood shingles, painted white a long time ago but now a dirty beige. The structure hinted at its age with an arched vestibule for a patio and yellow stained glass in the front door. The pitched roof had a red brick chimney, and the photos showed a fireplace in the living room and the master bedroom upstairs.

Common in many older homes, the layout was a bit like a jigsaw puzzle, with every inch being squeezed. The living room was directly through the front door with stairs off to the right, and down the hall was a den on one side and bathroom on the other. In the back, a large kitchen and dining room stretched across the expanse of the house with an attached mudroom.

Upstairs was another restroom and two bedrooms. While it was more space than she would ever need, Emma loved how each room was shaped by the rooflines, cut in angles with nooks in the walls. A little over five years ago, one of the owners had finished the basement and put in a large laundry area, storage, and what looked like it could have been another bedroom and bathroom had it been finished.

Searching public records, Emma's excitement dampened when she realized four people had bought it since then, all selling within a month. That would explain its listing price well below market value. Something was obviously wrong with it. Still, it wouldn't hurt to contact the realtor and maybe pay extra for a thorough inspection. At that price, she was willing to fix whatever the previous buyers had decided not to.