Shadow of Saul

The air on the construction site tasted like pulverized concrete and diesel fumes. It was a thick, gritty flavor that coated the back of Saul’s throat, a constant reminder of where he was in the food chain. 

Bottom rung. Lower than the lowest.

Sighing, he adjusted his grip on the rebar, the metal biting into calloused palms.

"Hey! Are you day dreaming again, Saul? We needed that rebar like yesterday!" 

The foreman’s voice cracked like a whip. 

Saul didn't flinch. 

He just heaved the steel onto his shoulder, his muscles screaming in protest. 

He was used to this particular brand of abuse. 

For three years, since he’d woken up in a hospital bed with a mind as blank as a fresh sheet of paper, this had been his life. 

He was the stray dog Daniella’s father had found. 

He was the husband who couldn't provide. 

He was the man who worked himself to the bone just to put a decent meal on the table.

"Sir?"

The voice was out of place. 

It was too refined, too melodic for a place where the primary language was shouting and profanity.

Saul turned, blinking against the light and sweat running from his helmeted curly hair.

Standing just outside the caution tape was a woman who looked like she had descended from a runway. 

She was stunning, dressed in a white power suit and red stiletto heels. Her black hair was pulled back in a severe, elegant bun, and her blue eyes, sharp, intelligent, and currently filled with tears, were locked onto him like a honing signal.

“Huh?" 

It was all Saul could say in the face of such an outstanding beauty.

Said beauty ignored his current speechlessness and ducked under the tape, ignoring the mud splattering her pristine heels.

"Sir," she breathed, rushing toward him. "I found you. I finally found you."

Saul took a step back, nearly tripping over a bucket of rivets. "U-uh, M-Ma'am, you’re in a hard hat zone. You need to leave before you get hurt." He managed to say, feeling way out of his element.

But she shook her head stubbornly.

"I’m not leaving without you," she countered, her voice trembling with an intensity that unnerved him. 

She stopped inches from him, searching his face. "Don't you recognize me? It's me Sir! Kim Harlon. I’ve been your personal secretary for seven years. Please, tell me you remember me."

Saul frowned, looking at her like she was speaking a foreign language. "Kim what? Look, Miss, I think the heat is getting to you. I’ve never seen you before in my life."

"You have," Kim insisted, reaching out as if to grab his arm, then pulling back, afraid to touch him in his current state. "You are the Chairman of the KINAI GROUP. You are one of the wealthiest men in the nation. You control the shipping lanes, the tech sector, the banks... Sir, the board is falling apart without you. We’ve been searching for you for years."

Saul let out a short, disbelief-filled laugh. "Chairman? Come on, look at me." He gestured to his stained vest and the hole in his jeans. "Honestly, I’m not some tycoon."

"You are!" Kim’s composure cracked. "You went missing. It was an accident. This... this life you’re living, it’s beneath you. It’s an insult to who you are. Come back with me. The car is waiting. We can have you back in the office by sunset."

"Stop," Saul said, his voice dropping an octave. He was tired, his back hurt, and this woman was peddling a fantasy he didn't have time for. "I don't know who you’re looking for, but it isn't me. I have a wife. Today is our third anniversary. I have to finish this shift, get my pay, and go cook her dinner. That is my reality."

"A wife?" Kim looked horrified. "Sir, you don't belong here. You don't belong with these... common peopl—”

"Leave me alone," Saul interrupted, no longer interested in what she had to say. She sounded like every other bigot that lived in this wretched city, looking down on people like him just because they had money. 

Saul was tired of it. 

He turned his back on her. "Go find your Chairman somewhere else. I have work to do."

He started to walk away, the dismissal final, ignoring the fact that he could hear her breathing hitch, a sound of pure frustration.

"Wait!"

Kim scrambled after him, blocking his path. 

When Saul just lifted a brow at her, she bit her lip nervously and reached into her purse, and pulled out a sleek black card and a small velvet pouch.

"Fine," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I’ll go. But take this." She shoved the card into his hand. "It’s yours. The password is the first of May. If you don't believe me, go to the bank. Check the balance. You're a billionaire. Just... check it."

She pressed the velvet pouch into his palm next. "And this. It was your mother's ring. You never took it off. Ever. Please, Sir. Just keep them."

Before Saul could throw them back at her, she turned on her heel and marched away, her shoulders shaking slightly. 

Saul watched her go, baffled. He looked down at the matte black card. It had no numbers, just a golden wolf emblem. 

He shook his head, shoved the items into his pocket, and went back to the cement mixer.

Him, a billionaire?

He scoffed.

Crazy. 

The world was full of crazy people.

***

Two hours later, the sun was dipping low. 

Saul was washing up at the spigot, scrubbing the worst of the grime from his face. 

He was humming. 

Thankfully, he had managed to finish his shift early.

He had just enough time to buy the ingredients for Daniella’s favorite rosemary steak.

Just then, a silver Benz swept into the lot, kicking up dust. Saul’s heart did a little jump. Daniella never came to his work, too embarrassed to come to such a dirty place.

She must have wanted to surprise him for the anniversary.

He felt a spark of happiness ignite in his chest.

He jogged over, a smile breaking through his exhaustion. "Daniella! You’re early! I was just—"

The smile died on his lips.

Daniella stepped out of the car. She looked every inch the CEO she had become. 

She was poised, distant and nearly immaculate in a cream business suit. 

But it was the man who stepped out of the driver's side that made Saul’s stomach turn.

The man was handsome in a slimy, arrogant way, clad in a slinky silken jacket and trousers that didn't fit at all with his current environment. 

Saul immediately recognized him from the multiple billboards his face was plastered on.

Ephraim Moore. 

The scion and only son of the Moore family.

Ephraim immediately leaned against the bulk of the car, not bothering to hide his disdain as he surveyed the rundown construction site, his long nose wrinkling delicately. "Good heavens, Daniella, I can practically taste the dirt. Are you sure you want to subject yourself to this? It's giving me hives just looking at it."

Daniella didn't reply, her eyes focused on her husband.

"Saul," She said, voice solemn.

"Happy anniversary," Saul declared for the lack of anything to say, the words feeling heavy and stupid in the air between them.

“What… what are you doing here?” The "with him” wasn't exactly stated but it was heavily implied. 

Daniella grimaced, eyes dropping to the floor.

"We need to talk," 

Saul nodded slowly, suspicions only growing, " O-kay. What is it?”

But he couldn't help but notice how she didn't move any closer, stationed as she was by the safety of the car.

"I’ve brought the papers."

Saul felt his blood freeze. "Papers?"

"Divorce papers," Daniella said softly. 

She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick envelope. "Saul, look at us. Look at where I am, and look at... this." She gestured vaguely at the dirt, the sweat, and everything around him.

"This is work," Saul said, his voice tight, the frustration building. "The work I did that supported you and your family. A work that put you through business school and paid for the startup costs for your company!"

"And I am grateful," Daniella countered, and she sounded sincere, but her eyes lacked conviction. "But we aren't the same people anymore. My company is about to go public. I need someone who can stand beside me at galas, who understands the market, who can help me network. Mr. Moore... Ephraim understands that world."

Ephraim finally peeled himself off the car, sauntering forward with a predatory grin. "Networking isn't exactly done with calloused hands and a vocabulary of construction jargon, now is it, pal?" He flicked a speck of dust off his immaculate sleeve. "You wouldn't know what to do at a business meeting let alone how to run a company. No shame in honest labor, of course, but let's be realistic. Daniella needs a partner, not a pet project."

Saul's jaw tightened. "I'm her husband.” He hissed.

Ephraim laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound. "Husband in name only, it seems. While you were out here playing in the dirt, I was showing Daniella what a real relationship looks like. I handled everything so my darling wouldn't have to lift a finger. Not that you could attest to that, can you? I bet you made her struggle during the entirety of your relationship!"

"Shut your mouth, Moore," Saul growled, taking a step forward. His hands clenched into fists, the rebar he'd been carrying momentarily forgotten. "You don't know anything about my marriage."

"Oh, I think I know plenty," Ephraim sneered, unfazed by Saul's aggression. "I know that Daniella deserves the best, and the best isn't a construction worker! Look at you! You're a disgrace! A relic of her past, a reminder of a life she's clearly outgrown."

Daniella winced at his words, " Ephraim please…” but she didn't say anything else to his rude words. Didn't defend her husband or even even apologize to him.

Saul felt the rage that had been steadily rising in his chest, crack, before exploding.

"So that’s it?" Saul exploded, his voice echoing across the construction site, drawing the attention of his coworkers. "Three years! Three years of busting my ass so you could chase your fancy dreams, and now I'm just a goddamn embarrassment? Some kind of charity case you're trying to quietly get rid of?"

"It’s not like that, Saul," Daniella said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Then what is it, Daniella?" Saul challenged, his voice cracking with pain. "Tell me to my face that I'm not good enough for you anymore! Tell me that all those nights I stayed up with you, reassuring you, all the sacrifices I made, meant absolutely nothing!"

Daniella flinched, avoiding his gaze. "It's about compatibility, Saul. We want different things. We're on different paths."

"Paths?" Saul scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You mean you found a shinier lane, paved with Moore's money and connections. And I'm just a roadblock, right?"

Ephraim chuckled. "Think of it as an upgrade, darling. Like trading in a rusty old pickup truck for a sleek sports car."

Saul's control snapped. He surged forward, grabbing Ephraim by the collar of his silk jacket. "I'll give you a reason to choke, you smug bastard!"

Before Saul could land a punch, Daniella stepped between them, pushing Saul back with surprising force. "Stop it, Saul! This isn't helping anything!"

She held out the envelope, and on top of it, a check. "Look .. don't make this harder than it already is. Sign the papers and let's all live our own lives. I’ve included a settlement. It’s very generous. Enough to get you a place, maybe start a small business. I want you to be okay, even if we aren't together anymore."

Saul stared at the check, his chest heaving. Fifty thousand dollars. A pittance. 

The price of his silence .

The price of his marriage.

He felt a cold numbness spread through his chest. He thought of Kim, the woman from earlier. 

You don't belong here, she had said.

Crazy as she was, Kim was right about that one thing at least.

He certainly didn't belong here, with a woman who saw him as an embarrassing accessory to be discarded.

"I don't want your money," Saul finally replied, the quietest he had been since all of this started. The anger was gone and all that was left was weariness.

Daniella frowned at his words, the disbelief in her face plain to see.

"Saul, be reasonable—"

"I said No." He took the papers, fingers not even grazing the offered check and grabbed a pen from the clipboard hanging on the site fence, before signing his name on his assigned space.

The ink flowed smoothly, severing the last three years of his life.

He handed the papers back to her. "You’re right. We don't match. I hope the view is nice from up there, Daniella."