Page 19 of Truck Hard

It’s a lie, of course. I’m terrified. The Fisher family has deep roots, not just in southern Ohio, but in DC too. Money, influence, political connections—they could make my life hell if they wanted to. But I’ve spent thirteen years being afraid. Thirteen years walking on eggshells, measuring every word, every gesture, trying to avoid setting off Charlie’s temper.

I’m done being afraid.

James studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Alright. I’ll have my assistant draw up the preliminary paperwork.” He starts gathering documents into a neat pile. “We’ll need to go over your testimony again, make sure we haven’t missed anything. And Hannah?” He catches my eye. “No contact with Charlie or his family between now and the court date. Not even if they try to reach out through friends or mutual acquaintances. Everything goes through me. Understood?”

“Understood.” I stand on legs that feel surprisingly steady. “Is there anything else?”

“Just one thing.” He pulls out a final document. “We need to discuss what name you want to use after the divorce is final. Do you want to go back to your maiden name?”

Fisher.The name that once meant salvation, that I thought would give me everything I ever wanted. Now it feels like a collar around my throat, choking me with memories of pain and broken promises.

“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. “I want to be Hannah Baumann again.”

James makes a note. “I’ll add it to the paperwork.” He looks up at me, his expression softening slightly. “You’re doing the right thing, Hannah. Remember that when things get tough. Remember why you’re fighting.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. My throat feels too tight, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I turn to leave, but his voice stops me at the door.

“Hannah?” I look back. He’s still watching me, concern etched in the lines around his eyes. “If anything happens—anything at all—call me immediately. Day or night.”

A chill runs down my spine despite the warm spring air filtering through his window.

“I will.” I promise, then step out into the hallway before he can see the fear I know is written all over my face.

Linda gives me another sympathetic smile as I pass her desk. I wonder how many women like me she’s seen walk through these doors. How many stories like mine she’s witnessed unfold.

The lobby seems darker now, the shadows longer. Or maybe that’s just my imagination, tainted by thoughts of what’s to come. My heels click against the marble floor—tick, tick, tick—like a countdown to something inevitable.

Outside, the spring sun is almost blinding after the dim interior of the office building. I pause on the steps, letting the warmth seep into my skin. People pass by on the sidewalk, goingabout their daily lives. None of them know what’s happening behind these prestigious doors. None of them can see the war being waged in conference rooms and courthouses.

My phone buzzes in my purse. For a heart-stopping moment, I think it might be Charlie—but no, it’s a text from Cam.

Cam

You okay, Mom?

My sweet, worried boy. Always checking on me, always trying to protect me. It should be the other way around.

I type back quickly.

Hannah

All good. Heading to work now. Love you.

Cam

Love you too. Be safe.

Be safe. Such a simple phrase, but it carries the weight of everything we’ve been through. Everything we’re still going through.

I take one last look at the imposing building behind me, its windows reflecting the spring sky like mirrors. Somewhere in there, the machinery of justice is grinding into motion. In three weeks, I’ll have to face Charlie again. Face his anger, his accusations, his attempts to maintain control over me and Cam.

But this time will be different. This time, I’m not alone.

This time, I’m fighting back.

I straighten my shoulders and start down the steps, each click of my heels against the concrete a declaration.I am Hannah Baumann. I am stronger than my fear. I am more than what he made me.

And I am ready for war.

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