Chapter 15
Janice asked to see Claire.
I refused.
Claire overruled me.
That irritated me.
Then I remembered.
Her choice.
We met in the office where everything began.
The vase had been replaced.
The industrial vacuum was gone.
Claire insisted on that.
“I never want to hear that machine again.”
Fair.
Janice sat across from her.
No badge.
No authority.
She looked smaller without the costume of supervision.
“You ruined my life,” Janice said.
Claire stared.
Then laughed.
I almost smiled.
“You locked me into night shifts.”
“I gave you work.”
“You threatened my housing.”
“I gave you housing.”
“You used my daughter.”
“She wanted to help.”
Claire leaned forward.
“That sentence is why you’ll never understand.”
Janice frowned.
“My four-year-old thought it was normal to work at 1:00 A.M. because you made exhaustion part of survival.”
Janice looked toward me.
“She could leave anytime.”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
“She had options.”
“No.”
“Dominic—”
I raised one hand.
She stopped.
Not my conversation.
Claire continued.
“You made every option cost something I couldn’t afford.”
Silence.
That was the truth.
No chains.
No locked room.
Just rent.
Hours.
Food.
Childcare.
Fear.
Control can look ordinary when the person controlled is poor enough.
Janice finally said:
“Vincent made me.”
Claire stared.
“No.”
Janice’s face tightened.
“He paid me.”
“That explains why you started.”
Pause.
“It doesn’t explain why you kept going after he died.”
Janice looked away.
There.
After Vincent died, she could have stopped.
She did not.
Because power had become profitable.
Because Lydia rewarded it.
Because Claire’s dependence made Janice feel important.
No dead man could own that choice.
Claire stood.
“I don’t forgive you.”
Janice’s face twisted.
“I said I was sorry.”
“No.”
Claire shook her head.
“You explained.”
Then she walked out.
I stayed behind for one sentence.
“She learned the difference from surviving people like us.”
Janice looked at me.
I left.
No threat.
No violence.
May you like
Just the end of access.
Sometimes that is enough.
