The door hangs open as Lacy leaves, and I feel utterly stunned, like I just lost a game in the fourth quarter, when I’d been up by twenty points.

My heart thumps like a ball being dribbled loudly against a wall.

I blink a few times, still staring out into the abyss of the hall.

I wanted to run after her. Maybe I should have followed her out. But what good would that do?

She seems so absolutely convinced that I cheated on her, like there’s no option that…

That what?

Someone made up a lie and told her?

Who the fuck is trying to frame me for this sort of behavior?

Collapsing on the couch, I run over any possible explanation for this miscommunication.

Why is she not even giving me a chance to explain myself?

I think about shooting a message to Andrea. Instead, I text Chandler and see if he’s up. His schedule has been erratic since Braden’s birth.

A sinking feeling sets into my gut.

Lacy is falling away from me.

A chill shoots down my spine when I remember the call I received a week or so ago from an anonymous number.

Don’t go forward with the story about your dad, or else.

Jesus, it’s him.

I recount everything that’s happened since I first met my father. He knew Lacy was my weakness, and I poked the bear.

The bottom drops out of my stomach.

Whipping out my phone, I call Gates.

No answer.

I call again, and a third time, before he picks up.

“Jesus, Carter. Don’t you sleep?” he says groggily.

“I’m being slandered. Someone managed to convince Lacy that I’ve been cheating on her. Somebody named Katherine, I think.”

He exhales a deep breath. “Wait, what happened?”

“I’ll break it down for you quickly. Lacy broke up with me because she said I cheated, which was a set-up. And I received a call a week ago from someone threatening me not to move forward with the Jeff Doonsbury story.”

Gates clears his throat, and I hear him shuffling. “You got that call? And you didn’t fucking tell me?”

“Because fuck whoever thinks they can threaten me. I am pro-truth. And it’s the truth. My father is a giant piece of shit who shouldn’t be trusted for a damn second as a U.S. Senator.”

“Fuck,” Gates mutters. “Do you realize how connected your father is? Haven’t I fucking told you?”

“Yeah, he’s really connected. I get it. So the fuck what?”

“The man is as shady as shady comes. It’s as though legalities don’t apply to him. He’s like the fucking mob, Carter, If he wants the Senate, he’ll smear the opposition, pay people off, whatever it takes. I don’t know how he convinced Lacy that you weren’t faithful. But he’s done crazier shit in his heyday. You don’t father seventeen kids, just because you like to fuck, and then pay people off continuously without incurring any debt. He’s got people in debt to you. Goddamnit Carter, I feel like I’m teaching you Mafia 101 here.”

A chill spreads over my body. “I guess I just...didn’t think it was this serious. I thought he’d be a little pissed, but I can’t believe all this.”

“Are you in love with Lacy?”

“Why the fuck are you asking me that?”

“Just answer the question. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know that?”

“Yes. He mentioned her when I met with him in person.”

“So that’s a weakness. Fuck me. I don’t know how he figured that out, but it doesn’t matter. So he’s flexing his guns. He wants you to retract the story and admit you made the whole thing up.”

“This seems a little far-fetched.”

“I don’t have time to explain everything. But I have one question. Do you know where Lacy is right now?”

My heart damn near stops when he says that.

“I think so. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I wouldn’t let her out of my sight, if I were you.”

Instantly running to my room, I start to throw on some clothes to head to Joseph's apartment.

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Don’t panic.”

“Don’t panic? You’re telling me Lacy’s life could be in danger, but I shouldn’t panic.”

“I could be wrong about this. I just think you should take precautions, given all of the research I did on your father.”

“Didn’t you send me all the fucking research on my father?”

“I left out a couple of things because they weren’t definitive. But this Lacy stuff seems like next level shit.”

“Definitive? What does that mean?”

“Don’t make me spell it out.”

“Spell it.”

“Unresolved murders.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

I throw on my boots, coat, and whip out into the elevator.

“Anything else I should know?” I growl.

“Keep me updated. I’ll call one of my security guys who is in the Chicago area.”

“I’m going over there myself.”

“Alright. Where, exactly?”

I give him the address of Joseph’s apartment, thankful we started hanging out last December.

I ride out into the cold black of the night, heading for his place.