Chapter 6
After that day, Andrew never left Silverlake City. He checked into a hotel across from our neighborhood. Every day, I could see his black Land Rover parked downstairs like a silent statue. He never came upstairs or called.
He was using that car to announce his presence and pressure me. At first, my parents were nervous and extra careful whenever they went out.
But I stayed calm and kept going out every day, walking, buying groceries, and going to the library. I treated him like air.
A few days later, he seemed to finally lose patience. He started forcing his way into my life through other methods.
When my mom went to her community dance group, he had someone send over a top-of-the-line speaker system. When my dad went to the park to play chess, Andrew had people deliver premium tea and an expensive chess set.
My parents sent every gift back unopened. They even attached a note: [Our family doesn't need any of this. What we're missing is a son-in-law with a conscience.] Their attitude gave me more support and courage than I could ever put into words.
Once Andrew realized he couldn't get anywhere through my parents, he turned his attention back to me. At the library I frequented, a reserved parking spot suddenly appeared with my name on it.
When I went to a cafe to work on my translation, the manager would respectfully tell me Mr. Shaw had reserved the whole afternoon. When I had dinner with friends, I was told at checkout that Mr. Shaw had already paid the bill.
What he was doing made me feel like I couldn't breathe. This kind of invasive watching and control disgusted me even more than if he'd confronted me directly.
He thought money could smooth over the damage he'd done. He thought pulling stunts like this would make me change my mind. He never understood that I had never wanted any of it.
I sent him a message: [If you keep interfering with my life like this, I'll call the police immediately.] He replied almost at once: [Lottie, I'm just trying to make it up to you.]
Make it up to me? The words on the screen looked absurd. I typed back: [How are you going to make up for my youth and the eight years I gave you?]
[Andrew Shaw, put away your self-righteous little tricks. There's no future for us except divorce.] After sending that, I blocked him again.
I thought my warning would get through to him, but I still underestimated how obsessive he could be. Two days later, Professor Linden suddenly called me, and his tone was unusually serious.
"Charlotte, did you offend somebody?" My heart dropped. "Professor, what happened?"
"The publisher for your sample translation called this morning and suddenly canceled the project. I asked why, and they hemmed and hawed before saying your style wasn't what they were looking for. That's obviously an excuse." Professor Linden sounded angry.
"I know your translation skills better than anyone," he said. "Later I asked around and found out somebody had been putting pressure on the publisher behind the scenes."
I didn't have to think hard to know who it was. Andrew Shaw. He had actually reached into my career. He was trying to ruin me.
A chill shot up from the soles of my feet and spread through my whole body. The hand holding my phone trembled with anger.
Eight years. For the first time, I realized I had never truly known Andrew Shaw. Under that polished, elite exterior was someone capable of something this vile.