Split Reflections

Chapter 16-Strings Attached

That hurt more than the truth itself.

The Interview Footage

They didn't need to show me the video.

But they did.

The laptop screen flickered to life, revealing a younger version of myself sitting across from Jordan in a glass conference room. I remembered the day vividly—the questions sharp, the stakes terrifying.

Watching now, I noticed things I hadn't before.

Jordan's posture—open, not evaluative. His silence when I stumbled, giving me space to recover. The way he redirected one question, gently, so I could showcase strengths instead of weaknesses.

Not favoritism.

Belief.

Selena whispered, "He never once gave you an answer."

"No," I said. "He gave me room."

When the clip ended, the room felt quieter than before.

Lunch – Sixth Avenue

Rain stitched gray threads down the bistro windows as we sat untouched bowls of soup between us.

"So," Selena said carefully, "how does it feel?"

I stared at the steam curling from my spoon. "Like discovering someone adjusted the lighting before I walked onstage."

Miles tilted his head. "Did you still perform?"

"Yes."

"Then the applause was yours."

I nodded, but grief complicated logic. "I just wish love and transparency hadn't been mutually exclusive for him."

Selena's voice softened. "He thought secrecy protected your confidence."

"And instead," I said, "it protected his fear."

Night Research

Back at the cottage, sleep evaded me.

I opened Jordan's digital notebooks—those personal files Reyes had cleared for us after forensic duplication. This time, I didn't search for secrets. I searched for patterns.

What I found was restraint.

Jordan had recused himself from every promotion review involving me. Independent panels. External auditors. Blind performance scoring.

In a private note dated two years ago, he'd written:

If she ever doubts herself, it will be my failure—not hers.

I closed the laptop, tears blurring the screen.

Therapy – Naming the Truth

Dr. Maya Chen listened without interruption as I unloaded the knot of betrayal and gratitude twisting inside me.

"Influence," she said gently, "is not the same as control. Ask yourself this: Did Jordan ever decide for you?"

I shook my head.

"Then your agency remains intact."

Selena joined the session later, confessing Jordan had once mentioned her name to a headhunter—but only after Evelyn had already maneuvered her résumé into circulation.

"He didn't recruit me," Selena said. "He validated me."

Dr. Chen smiled. "That distinction matters."

The Music Box

We found it in the last box—walnut, understated, engraved with two interlocking circles.

Inside, Moon River played—not loud, not dramatic. Just enough.

The letter beneath the velvet lining undid me.

I never wanted to pull strings.
I wanted to open doors the world closes too early.

The words didn't absolve him.

But they explained him.

Boardroom – Reform

I stood before the reconstituted board that afternoon, heart steady under my Holter monitor.

"I'm disclosing Jordan Hale's early advocacy on my behalf," I said plainly. "And I'm proposing we ensure no one ever questions their worth because of silence again."

The Transparent Talent Charter passed unanimously.

Not because of Jordan.

Because of me.

Dusk – The Dock

Later, Selena and I sat at the edge of the river, lantern light trembling across water.

"Do you still feel like a puppet?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No. I feel... chosen. And choosing back."

She smiled. "That's love."

We released small paper boats downstream—no candles this time, no spectacle.

Just motion.

The Email

It arrived after midnight.

Jordan protected me too.
I'm ready to tell the rest—through counsel.
—L

Lyra.

I forwarded it to Reyes without hesitation.

Some strings, I realized, weren't meant to be cut.

They were meant to be untangled.

And this time, I would hold the thread.