I spend the night in my safe room. It’s like my closet – with a bathroom and kitchen.

I’m late again for school. Benji takes one look at my battered face and doesn’t speak to me, for which I’m grateful. I wear a scarf, even though it’s warm in the school, and long sleeves. Jenna catches me in the hallway between classes.

She hugs me. I grimace. My body aches.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says. “God, I was freaking out!”

“Thanks for calling Ari,” I reply. “Her dad is basically the only person who was able to help me.”

“I was standing in the lobby screaming when he showed up.”

“Why am I always left out?” Ari complains, walking up to us.

I smile despite my misery. The three of us all hug.

“You look awful,” Ari whispers to me.

“Yeah, you really do,” Jenna agrees.

“Rough weekend,” I reply. “Soccer is gonna hurt like hell today.”

“Maybe next weekend, we can try again?” Jenna asks, breaking away. “You can come, too, Ari.”

“Sure,” I reply.

The change in her is visible. She doesn’t look like she wants to kill me. That makes one less person who’s pissed at me. Of course, Dom will take her place when I send the text I’ve been tearfully crafting.

“I gotta go. We’ll catch up later.” Jenna walks away, towards her next class.

“I’ve been replaced.” Ari crosses her arms and glares at me.

“I love you, Ari,” I say.

She rolls her eyes, and her worried gaze takes in my features.

“I am so sorry, Mia.”

“It’s okay. It was awful but …” I feel like I’m going to cry again and clear my throat. “The worst part is I’m losing Dom.”

“He died?” she gasps.

“No, no,” I say quickly.

“Is this about you standing him up? You were trapped by a psycho in your apartment!”

“No, Ari.” I love my friend more than I can ever tell her! “I want him to be happy. My life is fucked up. My family is fucked up. I’m fucked up. He deserves better.”

Ari frowns fiercely. “You can’t mean that, Mia. I’m pretty sure he already knows you’re a walking dumpster fire. It’s not like it’s a surprise.”

I laugh, unable to help it.

“If he minded, he wouldn’t respond to your texts,” she points out.

“I don’t want anyone else involved in my drama,” I respond firmly. “When he’s out of the hospital, I’ll tell him we can’t be friends.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” she says. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“It feels that way.”

“Mia, you’re beautiful. You’re my best friend. There’s no one better than you. Look what you did for me with Benji.” Her eyes mist over. “You can’t think that way.”

The bell rings. I grab my books.

“We’re late,” I say.

Ari’s gaze is still riveted to me.

“Let’s hang out tomorrow,” she says. “I’ll come over.”

I smile. Even when all else in life is failing, I’ve got Ari.

Soccer practice is every bit as brutal as I think it will be. Dr. Thompkins’ visits are down to once a week, on Thursdays, so I actually have a chance to return home before going to the women’s center. One of the Fabios follows me everywhere now, even sitting in my classes at school.

Today’s Fabio opens the door for me into the apartment building, and I’m stunned by who’s waiting for me in the lobby.

“Mama!” I shout and rush to her. I fling my arms around her, even knowing she’s too classy to hug in public.

“Hello, mon amour,” she purrs in the husky voice that drives men wild.

A vision of beauty, my mother’s dark eyes and carefully done blond hair are set off by a tight wrap dress and red heels. She appears only a few years older than me, with no sign of wrinkles on her porcelain skin. Her make-up is meticulous and smoldering, even during the daytime. She – and through her I – are heiresses to my grandpa’s fortune. She has always looked the part of a glamorous socialite, while I’ve hid in her shadow.

“You kept saying two weeks and it’s been months!” I say in half-anger, half-excitement. I’m not sure what to feel. She’s beautiful as always, with no signs of there ever having been anything wrong.

“Your face, my Mia,” she says.

I pull away, and she touches my cheek with a frown.

“I can teach you to cover those better.”

“Mom, please.”

“Show me your apartment, Mia.”

I grab her hand like I would Ari and tug her to the elevator. She manages to wriggle and ooze sensuality, even when hurried. I’m envious and then not, because wanting to be like her is part of the reason I went with Robert Connor into the gardens. I wanted to feel as beautiful and glamorous as my mother appears.

She smiles at the Fabio trailing us when he gets into the elevator behind us. I’m not surprised to see even his guard melt at her smoldering eyes. He smiles back. I roll my eyes and lead them off the elevator and to my apartment.

“Lovely, Mia,” she says, stepping inside with me. “This isn’t your doing.”

“Why, because I have no taste?”

“Precisely.” Her smile is warm.

“Want to see my closet?”

She laughs.

We’ve been playing the closet game since I was tall enough to walk. I would go into her closet and try on or steal clothes, and she would come to my closet and pretend she didn’t know I’d been the one to take them. As I grew older, into my teens, she began borrowing my clothing or bags, too, and I would hunt through her closets to find them.

We go through my closet, teasing one another, the way we used to before she was sent to rehab two years ago. My mama’s laugh fills me with happiness, and I can almost imagine a time when we’d do this again, for real.

At long last, we return to the living area. I sit on the couch. She sashays to the chair and perches on the edge, refined and gorgeous.

“I thought you’d never be done with rehab,” I start, eager to talk to her about anything, even rehab.

“Mon amour, there are some things I need to tell you,” she replies with gravity I haven’t seen before from her. “Are you well enough? I can wait.”

“What things do you mean?” I ask.

“Family secrets.” She winks. “Terrible ones.”

“Oh, god. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

“Then I will not share them.”

“You can’t not share them!” I exclaim. “You can’t tell me you have a terrible secret then disappear for another six months!”

“Very well. But if I upset you, then I will stop,” she says. “It is true. I went to rehab for six months. But they released me afterward.”

My brow furrows.

“I’ve been living in Europe at Gerard’s request.”

“Why would he do that?” I whisper.

“Many reasons,” she says with an elegant, one-shoulder shrug.

“So you’ve been in Europe all this time?” I ask, disappointed. “Why couldn’t you visit me? Why couldn’t I visit you?”

“Gerard wanted us apart.”

“You let him do that to us?”

“It’s complicated.”

When my mother says something like that, it means there’s some sort of issue about money. I’ve never understood why either of them are concerned about money when both sides of my family are wealthy.

“Molly helped you resolve your issue?” she asks.

I nod.

“Good. Now you know another of the family secrets.”

“Molly isn’t the perfect princess,” I murmur. “I can’t believe Daddy sent you away. He’s all-but-disowned me. Maybe we should both go to Europe.”

“He loves you, Mia, but politics are in his blood. If he didn’t think you were strong enough to stand on your own, he wouldn’t have done what he did.”

“You’re not gonna feed me bullshit, Mom,” I tell her. “Even Chris has stopped with his … well, with a little bit of his lawyer-speak. Daddy flat out told me he was choosing the Connors over me, and he didn’t care what I’ve gone through. I feel like I’ve learned more about my family this summer than I have the rest of my eighteen years!”

“That’s probably true, Mia. We always tried to protect you.” Her words are calm, but there’s a spark of fire in my mother’s eyes. “You never should have gone through this alone. I am sorry things between Gerard and me are causing you pain.”

“I’m tired of people giving me excuses for not being there for me,” I say with more emotion than I intend. “Molly and Joseph hated me my whole life because I was different. Daddy hates me because I’m different. Do you hate me, too?”

“Of course not.” Mom smiles, the genuine smile she reserves only for me. “They resented you more because of what you aren’t, not because of what you are.”

“You mean like how I’m not perfect like Molly or a statesman like Joseph or a good liar like Daddy?”

“Or because they know you’re not his daughter.”

I laugh. My mother’s sense of humor always catches me off guard.

“I know it’s wrong, but Chris has been a better father than Daddy,” I say.

“There’s a good reason for that.” My mom’s secretive smile is enigmatic.

“Because Daddy never bothered with me growing up?” I retort.

“Because your father is Chris.”

I laugh again.

She’s not smiling.

“C’mon, Mama, I’m happy you’re trying to cheer me up, but I’ve had a rough few months, in case you forgot,” I remind her.

“It’s another family secret.”

I’m no longer laughing.

“Gerard has always known. It’s why he’s been distant, and why I’ve been protective of you. I tried to love you enough for both of us. I still remember you chasing after him on each of your birthdays, begging him to come home in time for cake.” She smiles. “He never did. Remember?”

“You’re serious.”

“Absolutely. Gerard was forty five when we married. I was twenty years younger, closer to Chris’s age. He was young, ambitious, brilliant. We hit it off a little too well one spring, while Gerard was overseas.”

“That makes no sense!” I exclaim, thinking this must be a dream. “Daddy would never claim me as his if I wasn’t.”

“The divorce from his first wife cost him politically. It took him years to recover. He wasn’t willing to risk another scandal. Besides, my pre-nup would leave him without my extensive family fortune to fund his campaigns. If he stays married to me, he has more money than he could ever spend. You can never have too much money, mon amour, which Gerald knows.”

“Holy shit. You blackmailed him?”

“I reasoned with him in a language he understands.”

My mouth falls open.

“In return, he forced me to stay away until you were eighteen. The inheritances from my grandfather and from the Abbott-Renous were placed in trusts for any child born to Gerard and me as a condition of my pre-nup. Gerard was the executor of the Abbott-Renou trust until you were eighteen, when you assumed control. He threatened to disinherit you, if I didn’t agree not to divorce him. The only way we could stay together peacefully was for me to live elsewhere.”

“It’s all about money,” I say, once again shocked by how obsessed the people in my family are with money and power. “I don’t care about my trusts! I’d rather have you!”

“And I’d rather ensure you never have to worry about money. Money is power, Mia.”

I sigh. I’m not sure I can handle any more family secrets. “Chris knew all along,” I say, even more irritated by him.

“Chris didn’t know until the night of your incident. I know how loyal he is to your father,” she continues. “I feared he would hush everything up, which Gerard would direct him to do. I couldn’t bear the idea of them sacrificing you, my own child, my little girl. I wasn’t going to let Gerard bully you the way he did me.”

“Holy shit.”

“You must’ve noticed Chris changed this summer.”

I can hardly understand everything she’s telling me.

“In any case,” she continues, unfazed by any of this. “I told Chris and let him decide: Gerard or you.”

“Who the hell did he choose?” I demand.

“Who do you think?”

“I have no idea.”

“Don’t be stubborn, mon amour. He chose you. Gerard would’ve thrown you out when you turned eighteen no matter what. He even might’ve exposed what happened and claim to have adopted you. Your scandal would’ve forced his hand. I told Chris for one reason only: to protect you. It worked, didn’t it?”

“What?”

“You have a better father than Gerard. You have your trust fund, compliments of Gerard, and the trust left to you by my father. You have Gerard funding your life. He hasn’t exposed you as being illegitimate to the newspapers. You may not feel like it, but you are far ahead of Gerard.”

Although I’ll never see money as my mother does, I begin to see the events of the past few weeks in a different light. I never thought there was a power struggle within my family. I never thought the politics ran so deep. I wondered why Chris came to the hospital when I raped.

My daddy did come to the hospital, only I didn’t know it.

Tears sting my eyes. For my entire life, the man I thought was my father had never tried to be there for me.

Upon learning the truth, Chris had showed up right away.

“Chris is Gerard’s brother. Besides, he knows too much about the family for Gerard to cross him. It worked out,” my mother says simply, like all of this was just another day’s work for her.

“This is like a bad soap opera,” I say hoarsely.

Rather than anger, I feel something very different. Warmth blooms inside me.

Chris cares. Even if he doesn’t know what the hell to do with a teenager, he’s tried, and he’s been there for me every agonizing step of the way. He’s the only person who’s never purposely lied to me. He keeps things from me, because he has to, but he’s never outright lied.

Chris is the daddy I’ve always wanted.

“There are many secrets in our family,” Mama finishes.

Our family. Only, we aren’t a family. Are we?

My head hurts. I’m not sure how to process everything. Mama living overseas, the power struggle between her and Dad … Gerard. Chris being my father.

She changes subjects and starts talking about her travels. I can’t follow her, not when she’s just dropped multiple bombs on my world. Here I thought I’d learned all I would this summer about my family.

“Do Molly and Joseph know?” I interrupt whatever story she’s telling.

“They do. They suspected for a while. A few years ago, the three of us sat down and had a conversation. This came up. They, too, understand the importance of money and retaining favor with someone who might fund Joseph’s venture into politics,” my mother says. “May I continue?”

Something tells me the conversation the three of them had was not pleasant. No wonder Molly told me to leave when I was eighteen. No wonder they’ve always hated me.

Another thought hits me. Exactly how many people is my mother manipulating by dangling money over their heads?

I never knew my mother was capable of meeting Daddy … Gerard head on in the political arena. I’m starting to think everything I know about my family is completely wrong. No one gets along with anyone, and everyone lies about it.

I puzzle over how in control of my life Chris is and realize yeah, it’s nowhere like how things were before this summer. He has buffered me from Daddy, the DA, Shea, and maybe others I don’t know about. He supported me when I chose to pursue court. He even went with me to the hospital this weekend. He’s been working with Mr. Stevens to keep me safe.

He’s been manipulating everything and everyone this entire summer, not for his employer, but for his own daughter. Like Mama knew he would, once he found out about me. As brilliant as I know he and Gerard are, I can’t help thinking my alcoholic, attention-craving, money-obsessed mother beat everyone at their own games.

I look at her, not hearing anything she’s saying. My head hurts so bad right now, and not just because of my beating this weekend and soccer. In fact, I almost prefer the physical pain to trying to wrap my mind around what she’s revealed.

Leave it to my mother to return with a splash.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I interrupt again. “I have to go to community service. Are you staying in town long?”

“Only tonight. I’m flying out tomorrow.”

“Are you staying with me?”

“Goodness no, darling. I’ve got plans.”

I don’t want to know, but I’m not surprised. I’ve yearned to see her for months now, but I’m relieved she’s not going to be around to reveal any more secrets. Maybe after everything settles, and the trial is over, I can sit down with her to learn whatever else I might be missing.

The most important part of what she’s told me is about Chris.

“Okay, well, I’ve gotta change and go,” I say and stand. “Maybe I can come see you during spring break.”

“That would be lovely, Mia.”

I flee to my room and change quickly. When I stare in the mirror this time, I try to see Chris’s characteristics. It’s not possible to distinguish what’s his and what’s Gerard’s. We all have blue eyes and blond hair. The rest of my features are my mother’s.

I feel like hyperventilating and stay in the bathroom for a few minutes. My eyes go to my phone, and I pull up Chris’s number. If Mom’s gone crazy from alcohol poisoning or something, I’ll know in a few minutes.

Can I come by and talk to you after community service? I text Chris.

He replies fast, as I expect. Busy this evening.

It’s important. I respond.

Later this week.

Irritated, I type something I know will get his attention. Like father, like daughter.

There’s a longer pause before his response this time. I wait. It doesn’t come. Knowing I’m about to be late, I put my phone away in disappointment and leave. I walk with my mother to the lobby, kiss her on the cheeks, and descend to the parking garage. I’m not sure where my mother is going or what her plans are. I feel the need to distance myself from my entire family at the moment.

I’m troubled to think I don’t want to see her again anytime soon. The only person I really want to spend time with is the person I can’t allow into my life.

My phone vibrates, and I check the screen. 8:30. Is all Chris has texted.

I stare at the response, feeling cold inside.

Okay, so maybe Mom wasn’t lying.

My family is more fucked up than my summer.

* * *

Gianna isn’t at community service this night. I whip through my forms and leave on time for once, hopping into my car with Fabio. The driver already knows where I’m going. I understand now why Chris is micromanaging everything. When I reach Daddy’s … Gerard’s house, I enter with a whole lot of edginess. Does Daddy … Gerard know that I know? What’ll he do if he does?

The senator is rarely home, and I walk down the hallway, through Chris’s lackeys, and into the study. He glances up and dismisses the sole lackey present then returns his gaze to his laptop screen.

Sitting down, I’m trying to think of something to say. I got nothing. I’m still grappling with the truth.

At last, he looks up, eyebrow raised.

“What is it?”

My mouth is dry. “I just … well …” There’s no tiptoeing around what I need to say to him. There’s a reason no one takes Daddy – Gerard – to court, and it’s not just because he’s rich. It’s also because he has Chris. I can’t lie to him even if I want to.

He waits.

“I’m always the last to know,” I manage after an uncomfortable silence.

“You and me both.”

“Are you sure? Mom …um, you know, went to rehab for a reason.”

“I checked your DNA. She’s right.”

“That’s not normal,” I say, flushing. “Wouldn’t your DNA be the same as Dad … Gerard’s since you’re brothers?”

“We’re half-brothers,” Chris replies. “Another dirty little secret. Our father had an affair with my mother.”

“I don’t think I can handle any more secrets,” I whisper.

He says nothing. I clear my throat. I don’t expect him to welcome me to his home with open arms, but I thought he’d be … more human?

Or is it possible he’s as confused as I am?

“Is that why you decided to help me this summer?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“I would’ve been screwed otherwise, huh?”

“As your mother knew. She knows I don’t lose in court or out of court.” He leans forward. “Your mother loves three things: money, status, and you. She had to tell me, if she wanted me to help you.”

“It looks like she beat you and Dad – Gerard both,” I say with an awkward laugh.

Chris does not look amused. I swallow the laughter.

“She extended her loss to a later time. She certainly didn’t win this round,” he tells me, anger in his voice.

“She got you to do what she wanted, didn’t she?”

“She had to give up her last trump card to do it. She’s lost her leverage over Gerard and me. I imagine her next step is to divorce Gerard.”

I’m not sure what to think. My mother divorcing the man I thought was my father who never accepted me? What does that even mean?

“What would you do, if that happened?” I ask, puzzled.

“I work for Gerard, as long as there’s no conflict of interest.”

“Conflict of interest meaning …”

“You. If Gerard continues to press for an outcome I don’t agree with, I’ll resign.”

“Would you marry my mother?” I ask.

“There’s no way in hell I’d marry your mother. She won’t set foot in the same state as you, if I have anything to do with it.”

God, I’m confused. I nod, more because I don’t know what to say than because I understand. The politics in this family are worse than the politics outside of it.

“I have a headache,” I say in the terse silence that falls. “How does it feel to have a daughter?”

“How does it feel to have a father?”

Now I know where I get that defensive shit. But I start to smile anyway, because I feel peace rather than devastated. Gerard never wanted me. When Chris found out I was his, he changed everything, including himself, to help me.

“Really good,” I whisper. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“This summer has been challenging,” Chris says, his tone softening. “Your … incident changed everyone around you. I watched you grow up with no discipline, no direction, no boundaries. I ignored your lack of parenting, because my job was to keep Gerard out of court and above the law. I had no hopes for you developing beyond a trust fund baby with no skills and few redeeming qualities. You had the potential to develop your mother’s selfish personality, but I really didn’t care. You weren’t my concern.”

I stare at him. I’m not surprised about the content of his message – just the frank delivery. I’ve heard similar from Molly in the past.

“Your mother’s phone call the night of your incident changed everything,” Chris continues. “You made it through events that would’ve crushed someone as weak as I thought you were. You didn’t just survive; you came out stronger. You decided you’d risk everything to come forward, instead of turning away and tending your wounds. When tested, you actually passed.”

He’s giving me too much credit. It depresses me.

“I realized the adults in your life failed to challenge you and help you grow and that you are not the person I assumed you were. Your mother tried to hide you all your life, and Gerard wanted you not to exist. They – we – failed you. I decided that would no longer be the case.”

“Which is why you’re all over my life now,” I say.

“Yes, for the foreseeable future.”

“What does that mean for us? Like, you and me?”

“It means if Dom is serious about being in your life, he’ll consent to a full background investigation. Until the trial is over, you’ll also tell me where you’re going and who you’re with. If you’re off schedule without permission, you’ll be brought back here by your driver or bodyguard for a chat.”

I know that tone. It’s not one I’d mess with. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder how Chris let me get away with most of what I’ve said to him the past few weeks. Now that I know the truth, he’s not going to let me get away with anything anymore. It’s irritating to have restrictions and rules, but it also makes me smile inside. I can’t imagine the extent he’s gone to in order to help me.

“You don’t have to worry about Dom,” I say.

“Meaning?”

“I don’t want him in my life.”

Chris studies me. I look down, not wanting him to know how upset I am. I tried to say it as if it didn’t matter, but he’ll know the truth, even if I’m not sure what I want yet.

“You’ll be making the rules from now on,” I say, sighing. “So back to my question about you and me. Are we friends? What are we?”

It’s the only question he doesn’t seem to have a ready answer for. I want to know, because well, I want the father I’ve never had. But I have no idea how to have a relationship with my father or keep this secret quiet. Only six people know about it, but I’d like to tell other people the truth.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” he says at last.

“It should never go public though, right?”

“One day at a time,” he repeats.

“Can I ask you something?”

He waits.

“Am I more than a job to you?” I ask hesitantly.

Chris is quiet for a moment. “If you have to ask that, you haven’t been paying attention the past few weeks.”

His answer makes me smile.

“Tomorrow, we’re meeting with the DA for a line-up after your classes end. Curb that attitude of yours when you’re dealing with him.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Daddy.” I smile innocently in my best interpretation of Mom.

“If you push, I will push back,” he advises. “Especially now that there are no more secrets.”

No more secrets. Somehow, with my family, I doubt that. But maybe, it means there are no more secrets between my real father and me. Or … no more huge secrets.

I have no fucking idea.

“Okay,” I say. “Thank you for helping me this summer.”

Chris doesn’t seem to know what to say to that either.

We’re both in new territory. I stand and leave. I wait until I reach the vehicle to cry. This time, I’m not sad or angry or scared. This time, I’m relieved and dare I say, happy? Or as close to it as I may ever get.