Chapter 12 - No More Quiet Deals
Nick reached for the phone, but I held it where Mara could photograph the screen.
“I won't make decisions because they scare me,” I said. “That's what Martha has been counting on.”
Mara helped me preserve the message, then urged me to report the grave photograph as part of the intimidation pattern. I did. This time, I told the whole story without trying to soften a single word to make Martha sound better.
“Did you consent to your hair being cut?” he asked.
“No.”
“Did she have scissors before approaching you?”
“Yes. We have video.”
“Were you injured?”
“My scalp was pulled hard enough to hurt. But what she did was more than a sore scalp.”
He wrote it down. I wasn't asking for instant revenge. I wanted a record that couldn't be erased by a rich woman's version of events.
That evening, Rosa brought dinner and sat on our couch while I put the preserved wedding flowers in a glass. My mother's ribbons had been washed and pressed. I touched one to my cheek, then tucked it into the silver box.
Nick sat across from me. “I know I should have told you about Dad.”
“You should have told me about everything. That your mom wanted me gone. That she owed Vivian money. That you were waiting for some perfect moment to introduce a father you said had abandoned you.”
“I didn't know about the money.”
“But you knew you were hiding something from your wife on our wedding day.”
He nodded. “You're right.”
“I love you, Nick. Love doesn't mean I keep pretending your silence doesn't cost me anything.”
“I don't want you to pretend.”
He moved to the guest room without making it my job to reassure him. For the first time in years, I could hear myself think.
May you like
At midnight a woman knocked on our door. Through the peephole I saw Sloane, barefoot in the rain, clutching a wet folder.
“My mother found out I helped you,” she whispered. “She locked me out. And she left this behind.”
