“You aren’t calling anyone,” he said, leaning down close enough that I could smell his wine. “You’re going to shut up. And you’re going to apologize to my mother for ruining the night.”
Something inside me went still.
The grief was there—huge, swallowing—but beneath it, another part of me rose, a part I had buried for three years. The part that had sat at tables where power was spoken softly and carried like steel. The part that knew what my name meant in rooms David would never enter unless invited.
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, leaving a smear of blood across my cheek, and looked up at him.
David mistook my calm for defeat. He smiled like a man certain of his victory.
“I’m a lawyer,” he sneered. “I know the judges here. I know the sheriff. If you try to accuse us, I’ll destroy you. It’s your word against ours. And Mark didn’t see anything, did you?”
Mark hovered in the doorway, pale and terrified. “I… I didn’t see anything.”
“See?” David’s grin sharpened. “No witnesses. I can have you committed. I’ll say you’re unstable. No one will believe you.”
He waited for me to break again.
Instead, I spoke quietly. “You’re right, David. You know the laws.”
He nodded, satisfied.