The next day passes with agonizing slowness. I’m supposed to talk to Chris after school for more details about Madison. I can’t help but look over my shoulder every time I’m in the hallway. If Ari and I can sneak off campus, Madison can sneak on.

When the final chimes of the day sound, I bolt. I don’t even say farewell to Ari.

It’s three when I slide into the backseat of the SUV. I check my phone, and my heart almost stops.

I don’t know why I expected to have a text from Dom.

Moody, I start to think maybe it’s better if Madison does get me. Ari and Chris are the only people I trust now. I’ve lost a third of my friends.

I enter Gerard’s house and walk down the hallway, noticing the door to the study is closed. I start towards it anyway, accustomed to interrupting Chris, when one of Chris’s lackeys stops me.

“Ms. Abbott-Renou, Chris asked not to be disturbed until four.”

I roll my eyes at him and change my direction for the kitchens. There are always snacks in the kitchen, and I can’t cook to save my life. My favorite chef, Nellie, has been bringing meals to my place daily and stacking them in the fridge.

I grab a sandwich and a pastry out of the kitchen. I text Ari until four and go back to the study. The doors are still closed.

I return to the room that was mine. It’s empty, which makes me feel better. I don’t know why, except that I haven’t been replaced in the house. I meant something to the occupants of the house, if my room is empty.

Upset, I leave my past in my room and sit on the stairs of the grand staircase in the foyer. So much of my life passed here. We have a few residences, but this is where I’ve spent most of my school years.

The sound of footsteps comes from the direction of the study.

“Chris is ready for you,” the lackey says.

My insides feel like they’re shaking. I go down the hallway and into the study, stopping when I see who’s there. Chris, Molly, and Joseph are all seated on one side of the table. Judging by their relaxed composures, they’ve been there for a while.

“What’s going on?” I ask warily.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts and phone calls,” Joseph chides me. Everything he says is said with a charismatic smile that hides his true feelings.

“I’ve had some other shit going on,” I reply irritably.

“Have a seat,” Chris instructs me without looking up.

I do and tuck my hands under my thighs.

“Your police protective order starts tomorrow,” Chris says, all business. “You understood my text last night?”

“Madison is missing, and you think he’s coming after me.”

“We know he is,” Chris replies. “Robert Connor phoned his legal team last night and brought them a voicemail from Madison stating he’s going out to take care of – and I quote - a thorn in our sides.”

“How kind of Robert,” I say sarcastically. “But I have bodyguards.”

“It’s not optional,” Chris says. “It’s their standard procedure for a key witness in a high-profile case. The only control I have over it is negotiating with Tenet not to put you into some cabin in the middle of nowhere. He’ll let you stay in your apartment.”

“I wish I’d been nicer to him now,” I murmur.

“You’ll have a chance to make it up to him. I imagine we’ll be spending a lot of time in his office once the trial starts.”

The others are silent. I feel like I’m on trial. Chris is waiting for me to speak.

“Did all of you need to be here to tell me that?” I ask uneasily.

Everyone is looking at Chris.

“Come on, Daddy,” I say. “Are my counseling sessions now in panel-form?”

Surprise crosses Molly’s face. Joseph looks like he’s trying not to smile.

Chris raises an eyebrow. “Joseph.” He appears ready to strangle me again.

“Molly and I asked him to be here,” Joseph says.

I wait.

“Siblings or cousins, the Abbott-Renous are a political dynasty, one that appears to be ready to make some major changes,” Joseph starts.

“Don’t give me any bullshit!” I snap. “I’ve had a shitty few days. If you want to lie to me or use me, then I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“I want to go public with the family drama,” Joseph says with honesty I’ve never heard from him.

“Which part?” I ask.

“Molly and I want to throw our weight behind you in public. Doing so will anger our father.”

“Why do I care?” I ask, growing impatient. “I don’t want anything to do with politics.”

“They want to jettison Gerard’s political career,” Chris supplies. “Doing so means you’ll have to openly choose a side and likely speak out about all you’ve been through.”

“I’d like you to make the talk show circuit with me,” Joseph says.

“No way in hell,” I say. “I’m not going into politics.”

“I can do it without you,” Joseph says. “But we thought you might want to be involved. No matter what we do, it will impact you and shed more light on your public persona.”

“Joseph wants you to campaign with him,” Molly adds. “We’ll support you either way against whatever Daddy has planned. What we want is for you to show solidarity with Joseph.”

I mull over this request. I’m surprised they’re ready to split with Gerard, and I can only assume it’s because they feel like Gerard is going to tank his career. I’m not oblivious to the fact they want to support me. I am, however, agitated they’re doing it to spite Gerard. If they’re coming out publically to support me, then they smell blood in the water somewhere. I just hope it’s not around me for once.

“I can’t handle this and a trial and Madison being free and school …” I stop, unable to express how crazy the idea of adding politics to my plate of shit is.

“Think about it,” Joseph says. “There’s a fissure forming in our family. No family should be in the position we’re in of choosing sides, but it’s happening whether or not we want it to. There’s a possibility Gerard is heading for a fall.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I reply.

“As I warned you, your mother informed us she’s filing for divorce,” Chris interjects. “Your incident and a divorce may be enough to derail Gerard from his higher political aspirations.”

“I don’t want any part of any drama,” I say, thoughts on Dom. Drama has cost me enough already. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

I stand to leave.

“I’ll contact you in a few days,” Joseph said. “You can let me know your decision then.”

I give an exasperated sigh and leave the study. Ever the politician, Joseph doesn’t take no for an answer.

I text Ari about the bizarre meeting. Her responses are filled with more curse words than usual, most of which are directed at my former siblings, though she reserves a few for Chris for putting me in that position.

My apartment is quiet and Fabio is seated out front when I arrive home. I take a long shower. My whole body shakes under the hot water. I pull on jeans and a tank top, not caring if my battered body is exposed in my own home. Ari brought ice cream the other day, and I pull out a pint to sit in front of the television.

I’m more emotional tonight than I’ve been lately. I can’t take much more of anything, and I can’t stop thinking that I’ve hurt Dom. I hate myself for being the cause of his pain or for disappointing him. He’s one of the few people who has ever accepted me as I am, and I hurt him.

I cry and watch movies, ignoring my vibrating phone on the counter. Only when I run out of soda do I go to the kitchen. I feel disgusting as I grab a new soda and my phone.

Ari has texted. Chris as well. I sit on the couch and flip through the texts.

His text is from five minutes ago. Front door.

I roll my eyes, assuming he came to chew me out in person after our exchange. I consider not letting him in. It might make my night better, but he’d eventually win. He always does. Wiping my eyes, I hug my ice cream in the crook of one arm and go to the door.

In a suit, Chris is standing in front of the doorway when I open it. I step away and flip on the lights.

“The DA approved your protective detail,” he says.

“Okay,” I reply, facing him.

He looks me over, and I imagine he’s thinking what only Molly would say, that I’m not remotely presentable.

“We need to talk about Joseph’s proposal. I agreed to let them talk to you as both your father and your attorney. There aren’t a lot of options for you right now, and I can’t handle the politics as well as your family can.”

I wipe my eyes again. “I just …I’m overwhelmed. Molly can handle this shit, but I’m not like her. I can’t.”

“You aren’t like her,” he agrees. “This is a power play on Joseph’s part. He’s about to launch to the forefront of politics. If you want to be able to walk away from this, you have to let your siblings do what they do best. They’ll drag you into it and, when the buzz fades, they’ll quietly help you escape the limelight – permanently.”

“They said that?” I ask, reluctantly interested.

“They did.”

“Why do you trust them? If I can make Joseph look good, he’ll never leave me alone.”

“He will if your mother hangs a substantial amount of money over his head.”

“Always money and politics,” I say, anger flooding me. “Does no one in this family do anything because it’s the right thing to do?”

“Only you,” Chris says.

“I really feel like I can’t handle too much more,” I say. “I don’t think I can go on talk shows.”

“It’s a lot to think about. I’ve asked them if they’ll consider a less visible presence. He’ll likely negotiate, if he likes what you have to say.”

I like the idea of having some say in my life, and of walking away sooner rather than later. If it means selling my soul to politics … then no. Never. “Give me a few days to think about it,” I say at last.

“Your protective detail starts in the morning. They should be seamlessly integrated into your existing team.”

“Great. My babysitters will have babysitters,” I mumble.

“I think Gerard wants to have dinner with you Friday night. His secretary should contact you.”

“I don’t want to see him,” I say, somewhat depressed by the reminder my former-father doesn’t give a shit.

“Go, Mia. It might be the last time you see him for a very long time. Talk to him. Ask him any questions you have. Tell him whatever you need to tell him for closure on your end.”

Chris’ advice is good, as always. I nod, distressed already by the idea of confronting Gerard after all I’ve learned.

I fiddle with my phone. “You haven’t checked this in a few days,” I murmur.

“Has it been out of your possession, even for a second?”

“It was in my room when Madison attacked me,” I reply. “I put it in my sports bra during practice and sleep with it under my pillow.”

“From what I gather, someone had to have physically altered your phone in order to monitor your calls and texts. I’m pretty sure one of your classmates might’ve been bribed by paparazzi or something.” He shakes his head. “There were a lot of people in your apartment. It’s probably fine, but I’m not risking it anymore.”

“I can’t live without my phone,” I say, not about to let him take it from me tonight.

“Don’t text or call anyone unless it’s an emergency. Come by the house before school, and I’ll have a replacement.”

I’m so tired of this shit.

Chris leaves soon after.

I’m troubled by the idea of our family fracturing, even if I’ve never truly felt a part of it. I eat a pint of ice cream and then go my safe room to sleep.

* * *

I pick up my new phone, let everyone know my new number and then sit through a grueling day of school. Gerard’s secretary contacts me after school. My community service is moved from Friday to Thursday to accommodate the dinner. It’s not a political event, from what I can tell. The secretary says it’ll be a private dinner at the house.

I dread it and yet … I also feel less pressure than usual about interacting with Gerard. I’m hurt by his indifference over the years, even though I now understand why he distances himself from me. I also feel like I have what I’ve always wanted – a daddy who cares – and whatever this dinner is about, I don’t really care what Gerard thinks of me anymore.

As I leave home for school on Friday, I start to feel nervous. I don’t want to, and I spend the day angry with myself for feeling pressured by the dinner. There were so many days in the past where I would’ve given anything for a private dinner with Gerard. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to him and keep drawing a blank. Conflicted, all I can think about is getting through the dinner and returning home.

After school, I return home to change. As I stand in my closet, I smile, recalling the good part of my encounter with my mother before she dropped all those bombshells.

I also start counting how long it’s been since the incident.

In just over three months, my world has changed in almost every way possible. I gaze at the party dresses that used to make up my weekend attire. Ari and I partied a lot last year, almost every weekend. I don’t miss it. I don’t miss the loud music, hangovers and strange guys hitting on me. I tried drugs at more than one party but got freaked out by their effects. I don’t miss that or being drunk either.

I’m not the same person who wore those dresses. I don’t even know her anymore. She probably never would’ve given someone like Dom the time of day, and she definitely wouldn’t find community service rewarding, in its own way.

I’m not the woman who wears the kind of boring clothing Molly had made for me, either. I’m somewhere in between. Or maybe, something altogether different. As I sort through my clothes, I start to throw the pieces I no longer identify with on the floor. I’ll take them to the women’s shelter and donate them. They always need clothing and other essentials.

I keep the clothing Molly sent over, just in case, and look over what’s left.

There’s not much. Designer jeans and slacks, leggings, a few sundresses, a handful of blouses and t-shirts. The color palette is different, too. I used to wear either straight black or brightly colored dresses and shirts. The remaining clothing is generally in earthy shades: browns, tans, greens, soft yellows, some blues, and pale pinks.

My taste has changed a lot recently, too.

I consider wearing one of the boring, conservative outfits Molly prefers before turning away from that side of the closet.

Gerard always wanted me to be a second Molly. This is the first night where I feel the freedom to be who I am around him.

I select my favorite pair of leggings and a blue, tunic style sweater shirt.

Pleased with myself, I toss on a pair of comfortable shoes, add my favorite jewelry and stand in front of the mirror.

I look like … me. Not the senator’s daughter or a mini-Molly. I look like someone who has control of her own life, which means wearing whatever damn clothing she wants to.

My eyes go to the bruises around my neck. I’m not confident enough to leave my neck exposed, even if Gerard deserves to see the damage Madison did the second time around. I wrap a scarf around my neck and then grab my purse and phone to leave.

Fabio trails me down the hallway and to the elevator. We descend and meet two more Fabios in the lobby.

My vehicles are waiting. I climb in the back of one and pull out my phone to text Ari. I shouldn’t be this nervous.

“Good evening, Ms. Abbott-Renou.”

My heart somersaults in my chest.

“Dom?” I ask and lean forward. I rarely pay attention to the security detail. He’s seated in the front passenger seat. The original Fabio is driving and another Fabio is beside me in the back. “What’re you doing here?”

“The officers in my unit are taking turns being assigned to your protective detail,” he replies. “I can’t return to my normal duty until I’m cleared by the doc, and I’m not about to go on desk duty.”

His laugh is forced. His mask is back. He’s on professional mode.

I’ve hated myself since telling him we can’t even be friends. Here he is, helping me again.

Unable to understand what I should or shouldn’t say to him, I subside into silence and text Ari. I’m not about to tell her he’s part of my detail. She’ll read all kinds of hidden meaning into it.

Nervous, conflicted, and now guilty, I arrive to Gerard’s.

Fabio climbs out of the car and opens my door. He accompanies me to the door, and Dom trails. One of Gerard’s lackeys opens it, and my mandatory babysitter walks through first, scans the lobby then motions for me to enter. I used to be embarrassed by this process. It’s overkill, especially at Gerard’s. Anymore, I’m just wondering how much longer I have to go through it. I don’t want to spend my life being escorted everywhere I go.

I have to admit, I feel safer with Dom around. The other Fabios keep their distance. I don’t know their real names or anything about them. But I know Dom.

Gerard’s lackey escorts me through the house, not to the formal dining room, but outside, where a table with four chairs and four sets of dinnerware has been set up on the verandah. Lit by candles, and framed by a pleasant evening, the intimate setting is far more down to earth than any dinner I’ve ever attended with Gerard.

I wait for Fabio to look around before I approach Gerard, who is dressed casually and standing beside the table. He’s unfazed by the security precautions. As far as Fabio knows, Gerard is my father. That doesn’t stop my hulking guardian from walking with me to the table and taking up a position at the door.

I have nothing to fear here. Gerard isn’t the kind of person who gets his hands dirty.

Dom’s position is several feet away from us, his back to us as his focus remains on the extensive lawns behind the house. He’s wearing the obligatory earpiece all my bodyguards wear and a suit rather than his uniform.

He looks really nice in a suit.

“Hi, darling,” Gerard greets me with a hug. My focus turns to him, and I’m instantly thrown off guard.

The last time he hugged me was first grade. I can’t even recall why he hugged me then.

I awkwardly return the embrace.

“Hi …” I stop, flustered already. I’ve called him Daddy all my life. “Gerard.”

He overlooks my awkwardness. “Have a seat.”

I do so. Fresh bread and croissants – my favorite – are on the table already. Uncertain what to do, I pluck up an almond croissant and nibble on it.

“How is your new place?” he asks me, as if he cares.

“Great. Ari decorated it for me.”

“That’s what her father told me. He’s been very supportive.”

I mumble some vague response about Mr. Stevens being nice. I’m a little surprised Gerard has spoken to Mr. Stevens. I know they don’t particularly care for one another, and Chris has been involved in the day to day of my life.

Gerard is smiling openly. I’ve never seen him do that towards me. Is this a political thing? Am I here for a reason other than to have dinner with the man who raised me? Joseph and Molly both wanted to be seen in public with me to raise their visibility and likeability. But no one else is here to witness Gerard hanging out with me.

I’m not sure what this is about, but I feel like it’s not about me.

Then I notice the third place setting at the table, and I start to grow uneasy. Chris doesn’t trust Gerard. He doesn’t have to say it for me to know it. I think we both view this dinner as the last time I’ll ever have a face to face with my former father figure.

“I wanted to thank you,” I say. “Chris and Mama told me about everything. You didn’t have to raise me or support me like you have. It’s nice of you to take care of the apartment and everything, too.”

“My pleasure, Mia. Any man would be proud to have you as his daughter.”

Really? I manage not to ask the question aloud. I spent my entire life waiting to hear those words. I thought they’d have no impact after all I’ve learned – but they do. I still want him to love me or at least, to approve of me, if he’s not capable of love.

But I shouldn’t. I should never have to guess where I stand with anyone I care about. Chris has proved that he cares for me. Gerard hasn’t.

“I thought we could talk tonight,” Gerard continues. “You are going through a lot with much more drama to come. How are you handling it?”

I lean back, confused. I may want him to care, but the fact that he does is kind of freaking me out.

“It’s rough,” I admit. “It’s been rough for three months.”

“The incident with that Madison fellow is being handled to your satisfaction?”

“Not really. He’s gone missing, and I have a police protective detail.”

“He has much to atone for. The law will find him, I’m sure of it. I heard the videos from your apartment are going to be admissible in court. He made a confession I believe.”

“He said a lot of stupid shit,” I say, disturbed to think I’m spending my evening talking about Madison. “It’s being handled by the police.”

“I can always make a phone call to encourage them to work faster, if you need me to.”

“Um, thanks. I don’t really want to talk about this anymore.”

“I understand. I thought it was a good place for us to start.”

“How about asking me how I am or telling me how your day was?” I ask in irritation.

His smile is that of a politician – polite without committing to anything. “I receive daily reports about you,” he assures me. “I read all of them.”

But that’s not the same as caring. I don’t say anything. I sip water and pull apart my croissant.

“I’d like to talk to you about Madison a little more,” Gerard says.

“Why?” I demand, suspicious where this is all going and why I’m here in the first place.

“He’s confessed to hurting you and the other girls, even to the murder of the woman who died.”

“Tanya. They have names.”

“Tanya,” Gerard repeats. “I reached out to parents. She was a good kid and student.”

I’m growing more confused by the moment. Why the hell does Gerard care about Tanya or Madison? I’m out of the house and on my own.

“What’s this about? I can’t believe you asked me here to discuss Madison!” I say.

“I didn’t,” he responds. “I want to talk to you about Robert.”

I cross my arms. “What do you mean?”

“Senator, your security is top notch,” comes an upbeat voice from the direction of the hallway.

“Keith!” Gerard stands and crosses the verandah.

“I haven’t been frisked this thoroughly since the last time I flew commercial.”

My breath catches.

The third place setting belongs to Keith Connor, Robert’s father.

Is this for real? Did my father … uncle just invite the father of the man who raped me to dinner?

I stand, debating whether or not I should just make a run for it. My eyes go to Dom. He’s half facing me, frowning.

“Mia, you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman,” Keith says and kisses me on both cheeks. I’m too surprised to move.

In person, Keith is more enigmatic than how he appears on the television. I understand why people like him – even if I despise him.

“Please, join us,” Gerard says.

The two of them sit.

I’m on edge and clenching my teeth hard enough my jaw is starting to ache. I sit, because I’m not sure what else to do and perhaps because there’s a piece of me that’s morbidly curious about what the fuck these men are doing.

Anger is unfurling inside me. It’s similar to what I felt around Madison. I can’t help wondering what Keith had to have done – or not done – to raise a monster like Robert. Even Joseph turned out better than Robert!

I want to believe Gerard didn’t invite me here for the reason I’m beginning to suspect he did.

The two politicians exchange news about their campaigns and other boring topics I care nothing about. I’m starting to feel like a third wheel at their little party. Appetizers are brought out. I squeeze the cell in my hand, ready to send an SOS to anyone willing to get me out of here.

“Mia and I were discussing Robert when you arrived,” Gerard says.

My focus shifts to him. For a fleeting moment, I’m foolish enough to hope he wants to confront Keith about all that’s happened.

Why do I do this to myself? Allow myself to believe in someone I know I can’t trust?

“Ah, yes,” Keith says and grows serious. “My son’s questionable judgment is one of the reasons he’s in treatment. I wasn’t aware of his drug use. He has a problem, but we’re getting him the best care available.”

“Murder is definitely a problem,” I say before I can stop myself.

“My son had nothing to do with that,” Keith says firmly. “This Madison guy has confessed, I believe?”

“He has,” Gerard replies.

I roll my eyes.

“Robert has alibis for all the incidents except two,” Keith continues. “He wasn’t part of whatever this mess is.”

“He was there the night he attacked me,” I counter.

“Under the influence of drugs, and Madison, which is why he didn’t protect you from Madison like he should have,” is the neat, handy response. “Hence his rehab. He needs help, Mia.”

He needs to rot in prison forever.

“You said he has alibis for all the incidents except two,” I say slowly. I don’t believe that for a second. “Was the night of the murder the second one? I believe Tanya was bludgeoned to death after being gang raped by two men.”

“Mia, darling, this isn’t really an appropriate dinner conversation,” Gerard chides me. “We want to leave the past behind and involve you in the discussion about how Robert can make amends for his lapses in judgment.”

Lapses in judgment.

“Madison has confessed. I believe the police will be content putting him away for murder and for the rest of the incidents,” Keith seconds. “But we want you to be satisfied as well. Whatever you suggest, we can consider. Gerard and I had discussed extensive community service and charitable contributions. We are open to your thoughts. With my resources, Robert can contribute to society in a meaningful way with long lasting effects.”

The moment becomes surreal, as if I’m watching a television show where the man who raised me, and the man who raised Robert, are discussing how to keep a murderer and rapist out of jail. And they have the nerve to claim it’s for the greater good.

Because no one in real life would ask that of someone who’s gone through what I have. It’s impossible, right?

It’s happening right now.

Taking my shocked silence as agreement, or maybe that I’m considering what Robert could do to literally pay for his crimes, the two begin to discuss other ideas and expand on the community service.

I can’t help asking myself what I’d be like, if I hadn’t spent the past three months questioning my existence. If I hadn’t met Dom, Gianna, and the women at the shelter. If I hadn’t had to acknowledge how twisted my family is.

If I hadn’t begun to understand myself to know I’m not the wilting flower Gerard has always taken me for.

Chris never would’ve subjected me to this dinner. He’s been far from the ideal father, but he’s tried and he’s done what he thought was best for me at every turn. I won’t argue he’s always successful, or that I appreciate his efforts many times, but he shows up and does his best.

If not for this summer, would I have spent my life desperate for Gerard’s approval, if I hadn’t learned the truth about who he is and what little I mean to him? I’m a meal ticket – literally. My mama has been paying him off, and he’s hoping to pay me off so Robert Connor can avoid jail time.

Who would I be today, if I hadn’t met Robert Connor three months ago?

The longer I’m involved in this mess, the less my world makes sense. The less this world makes sense. Gerard’s world. The Abbott-Renou political world. It’s not where I want to be. If I had been asked at the beginning of the summer where I’d be in a year, I’d have shrugged and probably said I’d be wherever Gerard wanted me to be.

Faced with the truth behind what this world means and what it does to those involved in it, I can’t help thinking I want to be in the opposite of this world. Whatever the fuck that is, I don’t know. Just not anywhere near here.

This world is part of my past, and I’m done with my past.

“I have an idea,” I say, interrupting.

The two men look at me, probably assuming I’ll play their game, like Joseph or Molly would.

“What if Robert rots in prison for the rest of his life?”

There’s a pause, and then they both laugh.

“Mia, we are looking for ways Robert can contribute to the world in a meaningful way,” Gerard replies.

“You think rehab and community service will make things right,” I mutter. Fury is rising within me, and my hands are trembling.

“We think it’s a positive start,” Keith replies. “I haven’t lost hope in my son becoming the man I know he can be.”

“Just as I’ve never lost hope in you,” Gerard adds.

Did they rehearse this damn discussion? It feels scripted, as if they assume I’m going to let them walk all over me.

At the beginning of the summer, I would have. I would have done anything for Gerard to love me.

I’m struck by the same experience I had with Madison. This seems unreal – and like one of the only times in my life when I’ve been truly self-aware of myself and everything going on around me.

“You want Madison to take the fall,” I say in the silence.

“We want Madison to serve time for his crimes,” Gerard replies.

“My son was an accomplice. This I’ll admit. He didn’t stop Madison when he should have. But, unlike Madison, Robert can be rehabilitated,” Keith adds.

“You want me to lie,” I add.

Keith’s phone rings, taking his focus off me temporarily.

I’m trying to collect my thoughts. I can’t recall any of Dr. Thompkins’ mantras, and for once, I wish I could. Just one, so I could hear his voice in my head, guiding me in the direction of what I should do, or telling me whether or not my feelings in this moment are valid. Because I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced this level of rage. Not with Madison, not after the incident.

Robert and Madison hurt me.

The man I spent my life believing was my father betrayed me.

After a moment, Keith holds out the phone to me.

“Please. He’s been inconsolable,” he states.

What. The. Fuck.

Maybe because I don’t know what else to do, I take the phone.

“Mia.”

Robert’s voice makes me sick to my stomach.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you sitting down with my father to discuss everything,” Robert says. “I heard about Madison. I wanted to apologize to you for … causing you any distress. I should have stopped him from doing what he did, and I didn’t.”

I haven’t felt this level of dissociation with my surroundings since this whole thing started.

I recall the fireflies.

The pain.

I thought I was going to die that night three months ago.

Every day since then, a small part of me wishes I had.

Every woman Robert hurt has felt the same thing, except for the one who died.

She’s the lucky one.

“Is there anything I can say?” he asks, desperation in his voice. “Anything I can do?”

I can barely think. I hate this man. I want him to suffer the way seven other women and I have. I want him to rot in a cell for the rest of his life, and I want Gerard and Keith Connor in the cell beside him.

Keith and Gerard are watching me calmly, expectantly.

“There is one thing you can do,” I say quietly. “Tell me the name of the girl you killed.”

“Madison –”

“Her name.”

Robert hesitates.

He doesn’t know. He killed a woman and didn’t bother to learn who she was.

I hang up and pass the phone back to Keith.

I look toward Dom, who is watching. The same anger I feel is in his eyes. I don’t have to tell him I’m done. The moment I stand, he’s already headed towards me.

“If either of you has anything else to say to me, you can talk to my attorney,” I say to Gerard and Keith.

I want to say more, like to tell them to go fuck themselves, but I’m starting to lose it.

Dom ushers me towards the door. I don’t dare look at his face. I’m infuriated – but also humiliated by ever believing Gerard to be worth me wasting my life to please. No one should have witnessed how bad my family is, especially not Dom. He’s seen me at my worst. He’s now seen my family at its worst.

My emotions aren’t controlled; if anything, they’re about to crack, and all I can think of is being in my safe room when it happens.

We leave the house. The SUV is running and waiting out front. I climb in back, and Dom slides in beside me. Fabio gets in front.

My eyes are blurred, my mind reeling. I want to text Ari and call Chris. My purse slides from my fingers, and I start to hyperventilate.

“Mia.” Dom’s voice is quiet, calm.

I stretch for his hand and clutch it as if he’s the only person who can keep me from drowning. I feel sick. My head is chaos, and I can’t fully put together the pieces of what just happened. Or how it could happen.

Is it a dream? Another in the long list of nightmares I’ve been having for months? Because tonight … tonight is crazy.

He squeezes my hand, and I struggle not to fall apart as we drive back towards my apartment.

I barely notice the drive. Fabio and Dom escort me to my condo. I open the door and enter, still trembling.

“You want me to come in?” Dom asks. Warm concern is in his voice.

I’ve already caused him enough pain and misery. “Yes,” I reply, against every piece of common sense I possess.

He enters and closes the door behind him. “I’ll teach you to punch next time we play basketball,” he says.

“No,” I say.

“No to punching or no to seeing me again?”

I release my breath.

His smile is warm. He’s always kind, always gentle, always sweet, even though I can see the traces of anger remaining in his eyes.

I crack. I want to think it’s from physical pain, but it’s not. I start crying.

Dom’s warm arms circle me, and he hugs me tight. I melt into him, unable to stand up straight on my own. He’s strong, solid, and real when nothing else is.

“It’s okay, Mia,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

No one has ever said those words to me before. Certainly no one in my family.

I sob as he holds me. When I’m spent, and I can stand on my own, he helps me to the couch. I look like shit – I have to at this point – but I can’t find it in me to care.

“Chris is on his way,” he says. “He was across town, but he should be here soon.” He sits down at the other end of the couch. He’s quiet, pensive.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I pushed you away because I didn’t want you to deal with the shit I do. Media circus, shitty father who tries to buy you off, security guards surrounding you at all times. And … me. I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken, Mia,” he replies. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“You’re a good person, Dom. You shouldn’t be involved in any of this.”

“Let me decide where I need to be, okay? Right now, let’s focus on you.”

I slump against the couch. I don’t want to look at him. I know I’m a mess.

“Are you feeling better?” I ask.

“I am, thanks.” He rubs his mouth, the way he does when he’s upset, and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I don’t know how you’ve gone through everything with a family like that.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” My face is hot.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to live that. You deserve better, Mia. I hope you know that,” he says firmly.

“I’m figuring that out,” I say slowly. “I push one of the only good people in my life away and go to dinner with one of the bad ones.”

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

I rest my cheek against the back of the couch and meet Dom’s gaze. I can’t process much of what I feel, except that I’m grateful and relieved to have someone like him in my life.

“You’re the only good thing to come out of all this,” I murmur. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve been all over the place.”

He’s seriously upset but smiles. “Really. You have nothing to apologize for.”

I wipe my face. Dom retreats to the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water and a pint of ice cream with a spoon sticking out of it. He really is too good to be true.

I take the ice cream.

The door opens seconds later. It can only be Chris. I don’t bother checking for sure.

“None of you are supposed to be in here,” Chris snaps at Dom.

I want to tell Chris to back off but don’t really have it in me.

Dom leaves, and Chris enters the living area where I’m huddled up in a corner of the couch. He sits on the coffee table in front of me.

“Tell me Gerard didn’t do what I think he did.” His expression is tight with concern and flushed with anger.

“Try to convince me Robert is innocent? Bring Robert’s father to the house and invite me to dinner to discuss keeping Robert out of jail?” I ask and then tell him everything that happened.

Chris’ mask slides into place, a sign he’s angrier than he wants me to know. “I’ll have a word with Gerard,” he manages to say after a lengthy pause. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t been okay in a long time.”

As I say the words, I realize my greatest fear – confronting Robert and Madison again – has happened. I feel distressed but not shattered, and I was able to walk away from both knowing they’re both desperate – and doomed, if I have anything to do with it.

“I’ve dealt with them both and survived. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?” I ask, searching Chris’ features. “Even if I wanted to collapse and die both times?”

“It counts,” he confirms. “You’re stronger than you know, Mia.”

“I don’t feel strong.”

“Trust me. You are. You faced Gerard and Keith at the same time and let them know where you stood. Do you think you could’ve done that before all this?”

“Never,” I admit. “But I’d trade not going through what I have, if it meant I could stay the selfish girl you used to think I was.”

“It’s not an option,” he replies firmly. “The past can’t be changed. What you can do is stay strong and focused on the path you’re on.”

His confidence in me causes my eyes to water. Gerard never expressed confidence in me in any part of my life. In all honesty, neither did my mother. She wanted me to look pretty for her friends and then passed me off to a nanny.

I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore. Fresh terror, fresh memories of that night, fresh confusion.

And … the tiny realization Robert and Madison aren’t the boogeymen I’ve made them into. They are human. Human enough to know their time outside of jail is limited. Human enough to understand I’m going to put them away, because no trial can be more painful than what I’ve already been through.

Human enough to be scared.

They should be. I’m not backing down.

“Does tonight change your mind about going through with the trial?” Chris asks.

“No,” I whisper. “Tonight I realized they’re scared. Not as scared as I was three months ago, but they’re still scared. It makes a difference.”

“Three months ago, you were powerless to change what was happening to you. Now, they are,” Chris says. “Your father … Gerard must be desperate, if he pulled something like this.”

“What does it matter?” I ask, done with Gerard after tonight. That pain is raw, too. If I’d been given time to process everything, I think I would’ve eventually been at peace with leaving Gerard behind. Right now, it hurts.

“It means there’s something else going on. Maybe another witness. A video of Robert and Madison. Something that made him and Connor want to hush you up. This was not the kind of step they’d take, if they had a better option.”

“Do you think there could be someone else who came forward?” I ask, hopeful. I’m scared about standing alone to face what’s coming, but if someone else who had been through this is with me, we can face our attackers together and put them away.

“I can do some digging and talk to Tenet.” Chris appears troubled rather than encouraged by the idea. “I want you to stay here this weekend.”

“I need the rest.” I had hoped to go out with Ari but after my new round of injuries, and the amount of press that will hound us, I’m thinking I might want to stay in my condo forever. “I know we’re on Gerard’s shit list, but do you think Nellie would come over and make me some croissants?” I ask.

“It shouldn’t be a problem.” Chris’ response is distracted.

We’re quiet for a moment. With him in my living room, and Dom and Fabio outside my door, I’m starting to feel safe again. I’m going to ask Ari over for the weekend.

“Does this change your answer about Joseph’s proposal?” Chris asks, refocusing on me.

I mull over the question. I know Joseph and Molly are waiting for me to say yes.

“Is there another solution?” I murmur.

“They’ll negotiate.”

There’s a part of me that doesn’t want anyone hurt, even Gerard. I’ve spent the past few months in pain, both physically and mentally. I don’t want anyone to suffer, and I definitely don’t ever want to be the source of pain. The only exceptions: seeing Robert and Madison put in jail forever, where they can never hurt anyone again.

“I can come out in public about the family mess,” I reply. “But, Chris, I don’t want to hurt Gerard or anyone else, and I’m not doing talk shows or going any further into the political arena. I’ll give whatever speech they want, and then I’m leaving the area as soon as I graduate.”

“To where?”

“I don’t know. Just far away from here.”

Chris appears to be thinking about the idea.

“That’s my counter-proposal,” I say with an equal amount of uncertainty and confidence. I don’t know if it’s the smart or right thing to do at all. “I can ask Mama to fund Joseph either way if that’s the reason he wants me involved.”

“You’re catching on.” Chris offers a small smile.

“When you want to survive something, you have to play dirty. Right?”

“If you’re surrounded by a good family and friends, the need to survive shouldn’t define any of your actions let alone cross your mind. You should never have to play dirty, either.”

“You sound like a dad,” I say and then grimace as I shift positions. My neck is stiff.

“How far away?” he asks.

I realize he’s thinking about coming with me. I don’t know what to think about that.

“As long as your mother isn’t there,” he adds. “She’s supposed to announce her decision to file for divorce soon. I already resigned.”

“Before or after you heard about tonight?”

“Before. I’ll be dedicated to your case and you.”

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Chris is quiet. I study him. He wants to say something but isn’t.

“What?” I ask finally.

“You being friends with Dom could give fodder to the defense. They can twist this into an inappropriate relationship or cast doubt on his testimony.”

“Omigod. We’re not involved. I text him because my support system sucks!” Here I thought we could have a conversation without him going all lawyerly on me. Or is he going fatherly on me? I have no idea.

“I didn’t say you can’t or shouldn’t,” Chris says with tried patience. “I want you to be aware that everything you do, everyone you talk to, everything you’ve ever said or worn is fair game. If you still believe he’s worth talking to, even knowing the risk or potential risk, then I’ll do my best to anticipate and prepare for whatever argument the defense prepares.”

I hesitate. If I want Dom out of my life, I’m certain Chris can make that happen, too. But I don’t want that. I never have, and I’ve never given a damn about what some attorney I’ve never met will think of me talking to my friend.

“Is this one of those hero syndromes?” Chris asks. “He rescued you, and you’ve built some kind of fantasy around him?”

My head drops back onto the couch and I groan. “You think I haven’t covered this with Dr. Thompkins? If he thought I was doing something wrong or bad for me, he would’ve told you in one of his weekly reports.” I point out. “No, it’s nothing like that. I like being around Dom, because he’s a good person. I don’t know many good people, and I want to become one. It’s kind of hard when you’re surrounded by our family.”

Chris studies me.

“He’s nice to me,” I add. “He genuinely cares for people.”

“If anyone puts the two of you together, things can get rough for him as well.”

“I don’t want that,” I respond, confused. “But I do want him as my friend.”

“Have you asked him what he wants?”

“No.”

“Ask him. Make sure he understands there’s a good chance this can affect his job. If you two want to stay in contact, I’ll talk to Molly. Shea stayed with your father, but Molly’s team is just as media savvy.”

My heart slows. I don’t want anything like my life for Dom. The idea of permanently pushing him away, though, brings tears to my eyes.

“I’ll ask him,” I say finally. “I need some sleep. Thank you for coming.”

“Any time, Mia.” These words are softer and almost warm. Chris is as baffled as I am about our newfound relationship.

He leaves, and I take a quick shower.

I resist the urge to search my apartment for signs of Robert or Madison. Instead, I retreat to my safe room. I stretch out on the twin bed and pull out my phone. I text Ari the details of my night. While waiting for the barrage of her response, I send a note to Dom.

Thanks for being there tonight. I’m so sorry it was terrible. I hit send and then pause to think about how to ask him the question Chris asked me.

It’s one of those issues that is probably better discussed in person.

The first of Ari’s texts comes in followed by six more. I read through them and respond in between hers. She’s pissed. For some reason, that makes me smile. She cares. She always has. She’s always been my anchor in my fucked up world.

The more I dwell on Chris’ words, the more concerned I become. I’ve been at the edge of the spotlight my whole life and am still shocked by the insanity. Dom has never faced anything like what I have always known. How would he handle sudden fame? Being unable to travel anywhere because of the media? Seeing pictures of himself in tabloids or online or on the television? Can he handle it? Would he want to?

If anyone can cope, I’d like to think it’s him. I’m just not confident he will want to stick around once he realizes how crazy it is. He has a good head on his shoulders and does what’s right, because he’s a good person.

I’m not sure what kind of person I am. Not good like Dom, but not bad like Gerard. Maybe that makes me normal. I’m not sure.

I text Ari until I fall asleep.