Chapter 1
Over the past fifteen years, I had given John Miller, my driver, nine raises.
He'd always been hardworking and never messed up.
But that day, he suddenly handed in his resignation, and I personally drove him to the station.
Before he left, he looked at me as if wanting to say something. "Mrs. Gates, there's something under the seat you should take a look at."
I checked under the seat and found a stack of photos along with some hotel check-in records.
In the photos, my husband, Vance Gates, and his secretary, Vivian White, had their fingers intertwined, smiling sweetly.
On the back of the last photo was John's handwriting: [Mrs. Gates, you've treated me like family. I can't let that kindness go unpaid.
[Everything I've collected over the years is on the USB drive. It's enough for you to walk away clean in the divorce case.]
Then I realized that John wasn't really quitting. He was afraid Vance would find out and drag me down, making me lose my last ace.
*****
John stood in the middle of the living room.
His back was even more hunched than usual.
He was clutching an envelope, its corners frayed from being rubbed between his fingers.
Vance sprawled out on the couch, legs crossed, holding a cup of coffee.
He didn't look at John.
Instead, he stared at the silent financial news on the TV.
"You're really leaving?" Vance asked. He spoke with that familiar, arrogant tone, his superiority dripping from every word.
"Yes, Mr. Gates," John replied in a low voice.
"Something up at home?"
"Yeah."
"Not making enough?" Vance took a sip of his coffee. "I'll bump your pay by 300 dollars next month."
John didn't say a word. He lowered his head more.
I watched from the bend in the staircase upstairs.
They didn't notice me.
John had been driving for us for fifteen years.
He came to us when I married Vance.
Back then, we only ran a small company and didn't have a car.
John used to deliver our goods on his battered cargo van.
Later on, when we got a car, he became our driver.
He drove my son home from the hospital.
When my parents fell ill, he rushed them to the hospital at three in the morning.
Vance said he was going to give John his ninth raise.
I was happy about it.
I always figured that what went around came around.
I was nice to John, and he was nice to our family in return.
Vance set his cup down with a soft clink. "John, you're a sharp one.
"I've been good to you.
"Because you saw something doesn't mean you need to say anything.
"Bury it deep. That's best for everyone."
Vance spoke softly, but every word hit home.
John flinched.
My heart skipped a beat.
"I get it, Mr. Gates," John said.
"Good." Vance finally looked up at John. "Leave your resignation letter here. Come back to work as usual tomorrow."
"No, Mr. Gates." John put the envelope down on the coffee table.
He nudged it closer to Vance. "I really have to leave. My family can't do without me."
Vance's face grew grim. He stared at John.
John avoided his eyes, turned, and practically bolted for the door.
I hurried downstairs.
"John," I called out.
John stopped in the entryway.
He turned around, and when he saw me, he managed a twisted smile that looked more like he was about to cry.
"Mrs. Gates," he said.
Vance got up from the couch, walked over, and slipped his arm around my waist naturally.
"See? John's got quite a stubborn streak," he said with a smile, as if his earlier threat had never happened.
"You're leaving?" I asked John.
"Yes, Mrs. Gates," he replied.
"When's your ride?"
"In an hour."
"I'll see you off," I offered.
Vance's arm tightened around my waist. "Honey, you don't need to do that. Let Tom, the new guy, handle it."
"It's no trouble. I was heading out anyway." I slipped free from his hold. "John's been with us for fifteen years. It's the least I can do."
Vance didn't say another word.
He wore a smile on his lips, but his eyes stayed cold.
*****
I went to the garage to get the car.
John was waiting outside.
I told him to hop in the front seat.
But he waved me off, insisting on sitting in the back.
That was his rule.
We drove a long way in silence.
In the rear-view mirror, I could see John's face.
He stared out the window, his lips pressed into a thin line.
As we neared the station, he suddenly spoke up. "Mrs. Gates."
"Yes?" I replied.
"I've let you down."
My heart sank, and my hands were slick with sweat on the steering wheel. "Hey, don't be like that." I tried to play it cool.
"He's betrayed you," John said.