Stories From The 6 Train 2(32)

“You need to leave and pretend you never came here!” his wife told me.

She went on to tell me that I wasn’t the first person to have discovered her house. There had been one other, a year ago. She had come knocking and had stormed the house during the day.

Robert had slapped her around a couple times, and then dragged her to his car.

When he came back, he hadn’t talked about her and pretended the whole thing had never happened.

“She never acted in porn after that. Just dropped off the face of the earth,” his wife told me. “I think he may have killed her, but I can’t go tell anyone because I have no proof.”

I still wanted to confront him. I could handle my own.

“Then he’ll kill me, so his secret never comes out,” she said.

And I saw desperation in her voice.

“I can take care of myself and my boy if you just leave,” she pleaded to me. “If you pretend that you never saw me. That you know nothing of this house.”

The look in her eyes I think is what convinced me to listen to her, you know?

I remember getting in the car and driving off.

But I didn’t go back home. I just kept driving. Left Los Angeles. Ended up in Vegas that night where I emptied our bank accounts the next morning, and moved all the money into a separate, new account.

I found a guy who changed my last name from White to Roman and made me an entirely new social security number and even gave me a 720 credit score.

Then I drove off.

I kept driving until I reached New York.

It was as far away from Robert as I could go.

And I started Man Chasers LLC. I don't know why I went out hunting for cheaters. Why the sole purpose of my job was to bring misery to men.

But it felt good. It felt damn good.

And now, either I go on the run again, or I sacrifice everything and everyone I’ve come to love to stay standing.

But I can’t just think about me.

I need to think about my baby. His baby.

No, it doesn’t sound right, does it?

I need to think about our baby.

And as soon as that comes into the picture, I know exactly what I need to do.

I know exactly why I can’t keep running anymore.

No.

It’s time to fight back. It’s time to show just how strong I can be.

The whole Brittney that runs away and is too weak—I left her in Los Angeles. The Brittney in New York City? She’s a bad fucking bitch.

But before I do anything, I need to tell Ethan.

The truth.

For real this time.





Ethan





“Ethan?” There’s a knock on the door, and then Brittney steps inside my office. She wasn’t supposed to be around this soon, and the expression on her face tells me that something’s up. And I have a feeling that I won’t fucking like that something.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask her, getting up from my chair and going around the desk. I place my hands on her hips and pull her into me, brushing my lips against hers. She kisses me back, but her whole body is tense. “What’s going on, babe?”

“I… I need to tell you something,” she starts, fear and anxiety in her voice.

“You know you can tell me anything, Brittney. I love you,” I tell her with a smile, tucking a lock of her hair over her ear. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I know that Cheryl doesn’t trust me… Because she thinks I came here to steal your prototype,” she starts, her voice quivering.

“Hey, don’t worry about her… She’s very protective and—"

“She’s right. I came here to steal it,” she cuts in, pursing her lips and locking her eyes on me. There’s fear on her face, but there’s also determination. She’s telling me the truth, but why now? “And I was working for Simon.” That’s it; I just fucking lose it.

“Simon? You’ve been working for that fucking excuse of a man?” I let go of her and take one step back, having no idea on how to process what she’s telling me. Fucking Simon, of all fucking people. “How could you?”

“He… blackmailed me. I had to… I had to, Ethan. I had no other choice,” she continues to speak, tears welling up in her eyes. I’m torn between holding her in my arms and punching the fucking wall. Simon always tried to fuck me over, and it seems that this time he really got close to it. “He… Threatened he would tell my ex where I was and… I don’t know what he would do if he found out, I really don’t. I’m sorry, Ethan, I’m so sorry.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is bad; everything in this situation is fucking terrible.

“How far have the two of you gotten?” I ask her, almost unable to hide the rage in my voice. If I were face-to-face with that motherfucker, I would give him the beating of his fucking life. He tried to fuck with my company, and along with that, with the woman I love. This is a fucking declaration of war.