The sentence hit the office harder than any slap.
Richard's face twisted—shock, disbelief, panic, the whole emotional slot machine cycling at once. His hands gripped the desk like he needed the wood to keep him upright.
"You can't." It was a plea.
"Oh, I can," Patricia said. "And I am."
He moved toward her again, instinctively, but she recoiled so violently she hit the wall. Hands up like he was a threat—which he was.
"Don't touch me!"
That stopped him dead. Not out of respect, but out of realization. She meant it.
"I can't stand your hands on me," Patricia whispered. "Not when my real man just did."
She swallowed hard. Straightened.
"I belong to someone else now," she repeated, quieter but firmer. "Body and soul. And I'm not letting you poison that."
Richard's lips curled into something almost like a sneer. "This is about the affair. Whoever you've been—"
"No," Patricia said. "This is about years of being slowly erased. HE just reminded me I was still in the world."
