No.
She stared at the deletion logs. At years of calendar adjustments she'd thought were her own mistakes.
"He trained me—" April said, and her voice ran out of air halfway through like it had tried to sprint up stairs it didn't know were there.
To trust his version. Like my brain was a Wikipedia page and he had admin access.
“He used my niceness. He used the fact that I smooth things over. That I don't make waves. He took that from me. Over and over. Because I kept being the easy option.”
Her chest started heaving, her body was trying to cough up three years of ‘you're being dramatic.’ Her hand found the back of Jax’s chair, she used it to straighten. “Take him out of my calendar.”
Jax didn’t hesitate. His fingers moved fast, already building a plan in his head while his hands caught up. Chad’s access disappeared in a clean gray flash.
"I can do more than lock him out of the snack room," Jax said.
"What?"
"I can stop his car. Middle of the freeway. Reroute his paycheck. Lock him out of his apartment and his phone so he can't call for help."
He was looking at the screen like he was reading off a menu.
"I can make sure he never works in this industry again," Jax continued. "I can make sure every background check flags him. I can—"
"Jax."
"—brick his devices. Corrupt his backups. Make his entire digital life—"
"Jax."
He stopped. Looked at her. His face was completely calm. His eyes were not.
"You're serious." She took a half-step back.
"Yes."
"You'd actually—"
"Yes."
The server fans filled the silence.
"That's not what I'm asking for."
"He hurt you. For years. He made you doubt yourself. That’s—" He stopped.
"I know."
"So let me—"
"No."
April pressed her hands flat against her thighs. "I'm angry. I'm so angry I can feel it in my teeth. But I'm not going to let it turn me into someone I don't recognize."
She looked at the red lines filling the dashboard.
"So what do you want?" Jax asked.
"I want—" April searched for the word. "I want direction. I want my anger to have a job that isn'tbe cruel back."
