No Longer Anyone’s Accessory Chapter 07
Day ten in London.
Trevor hunted down the number for my company headquarters.
CPO Calloway called me.
“Corinne, your husband came by headquarters today.”
“What did he say?”
“He opened fairly composed. Said you’d gone off-grid after leaving for a work trip and he was deeply worried. Our front desk explained that company privacy policy doesn’t permit disclosing any employee’s transfer location. That’s when he lost it. Said he’s your lawful husband and has a right to know where you are.”
“Mr. Calloway, does my overseas assignment location fall under confidential information policy?”
“It absolutely does. I had security escort him out. But Corinne — between the two of you —”
“I’m preparing to file for divorce.”
Calloway paused a beat.
“Understood. The company will strictly protect your personal privacy. Put your full attention on the project.”
“Thank you.”
I’d just hung up and gone back to my data when the phone rang again. Nadia.
“Corinne. It just got worse.”
“What happened?”
“Trevor stormed your company headquarters today. Security wouldn’t let him past the door. He made a scene in the lobby. Told everyone he’s your husband and he has the right to know where you are.”
“HR already told me.”
“No, it’s more than that.”
“What?”
Nadia’s voice shifted.
“He posted on Instagram today. A really long post. Put up a photo of you. The caption says, ‘My wife, Corinne, has been completely unreachable for many days. I’m at my wit’s end and turning to you all for help. Please help me spread the word.'”
My fingers stopped in midair.
“There are dozens of comments already. Some are asking ‘did something happen to her,’ others are telling him to call the police and file a missing persons report.”
“He’s using social media as a weapon to force me to surface.”
“There’s more, and it’s worse.”
Nadia drew a deep breath.
“Your mother-in-law posted on Nextdoor in your neighborhood. Said you have mental health issues and violent tendencies. Told the neighbors — her exact words — ‘If you see her return to this area, please notify us immediately and take care to protect yourselves.'”
“Mental health issues.”
I turned the phrase over on the tip of my tongue.
“This is premeditated.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Anger is useless.”
I opened my laptop and logged into Instagram. Sure enough — there was Trevor’s post.
The photo was from our wedding day. A white wedding dress, my face smiling sweet and foolish.
The comments underneath were all over the place.
“Hang in there, bro, maybe her phone’s just broken.”
“A woman vanishing on you out of nowhere? Trust me, she’s a hundred percent in someone else’s bed.”
“Bro check your joint account right now. Bet you anything the money’s all gone.”
I read through them one by one. Screenshotted. Saved. All of it went into the Project Phoenix folder.
These would all become court exhibits. Evidence for defamation and emotional distress damages.
Then I went to Trevor’s profile. Blocked.
I switched off my phone.
I walked into the lab, pulled on my white coat, snapped on my safety goggles.
The third round of XR-7 data was coming out today.
Instead of tearing into people online, I’d do something that was actually worth money.
