Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ANDI
Ididn’t suggest visiting Luke’s parents because I felt nostalgic.
I suggested it because if Jackson Rhoades was bold enough to sit in a nightclub ten feet from us, then I had to assume he was mapping every connection in our lives. Sam and Linda were no longer walking beside the problem. They were inside it.
Luke doesn’t like this plan. He’s quiet on the drive, jaw set, hands tight on the steering wheel. When we pull into the driveway, he turns off the ignition but doesn’t move.
“We don’t have to do this,” he says. “We can leave.”
I reach for his hand. “Running doesn’t shrink him.”
His eyes flick toward the house. “I’m not worried about him right now.”
“I know.”
He exhales through his nose, then nods once. We step out together.
The house looks the same. Neatly trimmed hedges. Polished windows. The kind of place that has never known instability.
Inside, voices carry from the living room.
Then I hear it. A laugh. Low. Smooth. Controlled.
Instantly, a scent of aftershave thickens, sharp and chemical, catching in my throat.
My body reacts before my mind does. Heat drains from my hands.
The fine hair along my arms prickles despite the warmth in the house, and my jaw tightens with a faint vibration deep in the muscle.
My spine locks. My fingers go cold. Luke feels it immediately. His hand settles at my waist.
“No,” I whisper, even though I already know.
We round the corner into the living room.
Jackson Rhoades is seated comfortably on the sofa across from Sam and Linda, as if he has been invited for tea. His posture is relaxed. His smile measured. He looks perfectly at ease in a space that once felt like safety.
Luke goes still beside me. Not confused, not surprised. Still.
Sam rises first. “I’m surprised to see you two! Let me introduce you. This is Congressman—”
“I know who he is,” Luke says flatly.
Jackson’s gaze slides to him with faint amusement. “Good to see you again, Luke.”
There is no handshake. No polite nod. Only a surreptitious reveal that he knows exactly who Luke is without an introduction.
Luke steps slightly in front of me without making a show of it. The movement is subtle, instinctive, and territorial in the quietest way.
“What are you doing here?” Luke asks.
Sam blinks between us. “You two know each other?”
And that’s when the realization hits them.
Linda’s hand tightens around the arm of the chair. “Andi…?”
I hold Jackson’s eyes when I answer. “He was my foster father.”
Sam looks from me to Jackson and back again, color draining from his face. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” Luke says before I can.
Jackson remains composed, adjusting his cuff as if this is all mildly inconvenient. “I think we’re allowing personal history to distort a professional visit.”
Luke doesn’t look at him. He looks at his father. “Dad,” he says quietly, “this is the man who had her committed.”
Now Sam’s shock deepens into something darker.
Jackson rises smoothly. “That’s an inflammatory way to describe a very complicated situation.”
“It’s accurate,” I reply.
Linda’s voice trembles. “Sam… why would he come here?”
Sam shakes his head slowly. “He approached me about a development partnership. Said he wanted to reconnect with local business leaders.”
Luke’s jaw tightens. “He’s taking stock of who’s aligned with whom,” he says calmly. “He doesn’t do anything without a reason.”
Jackson studies him now, a faint narrowing of his eyes. He hadn’t expected resistance to be this unified.
“I stopped by as a courtesy,” Jackson says. “Clearly, I’ve overstayed.”
“Yes,” Luke replies evenly. “You have.” There’s no raised voice. No theatrics. Just a clear boundary set.
Jackson gives Sam and Linda one last polished smile, then moves toward the door. As he passes me, he doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t need to. The threat isn’t physical. It’s personal, covert, and devious. When the door closes behind him, the house feels different.
Sam sinks back into his chair. “My God,” he murmurs. “I had no idea.”
“I know,” I say.
Luke turns to his father. “Has he asked for anything specific?”
“No,” Sam answers slowly. “But he asked detailed questions about Donovan. About the funding structure. About equity.”
Luke and I exchange a look. “He’s building leverage,” Luke says. “Layer by layer.”
Sam rubs his face. “I used what happened to you against you,” he says to me, voice breaking slightly. “I thought I was protecting my family.”
“I know,” I repeat.
This time, there is no rush toward forgiveness. No emotional crescendo. Only the awareness that the man who once controlled my narrative is now sitting at their dining table, asking about land deals.
Luke steps closer to me, not possessive, just steady.
“He’s escalating,” he says quietly. And no one in the room disagrees.
The room doesn’t settle so much as it quiets. No one rushes forward. No one reaches for anyone else. The conversation has stripped away politeness, leaving something raw in its place.
Sam lowers himself slowly into his chair. Linda remains standing for a moment longer, as if she doesn’t trust her legs. Luke stays near me. Not touching. Just close enough that I can feel the heat of him beside me.
“We need to talk about something else,” Sam says finally. His voice is steadier now, but the weight behind it hasn’t lifted.
“What?” Luke asks.
“This morning,” Sam continues, “before you came over… I received a call from the city’s licensing office.”
That pulls the air in the room tight again.
“They’re reviewing the youth center,” he says.
“It’s not just a routine check—they’ve launched a full compliance audit.
They’re digging into everything: your policies, the board’s structure, how decisions are made, and even the smallest details of your funding sources and how every dollar is spent.
They want to see whether you’re following every regulation to the letter.
If there’s any gap, they’ll use it against you. ”
I don’t react immediately. I already know.
“They contacted you?” Luke asks sharply.
“Yes. They asked whether the development partnership between Donovan and me has any financial crossover with Andi’s trust.”
Luke turns to me. “You told me they came by yesterday.”
“They did,” I say evenly. “She said she was with Community Oversight. She wore a gray suit and carried a clipboard instead of a laptop. She was polite to the point of being rude. She was very thorough.”
“And now they’re investigating the center’s licensing,” Sam says quietly. “That’s even more escalation.”
Linda finally sits. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I answer, “they’re evaluating whether I should be allowed to maintain operational authority.”
The impact of my words lingers, heavy and unspoken.
“Operational authority over what?” Linda presses.
“Minors,” Luke says before I can.
Deafening silence fills the room.
Sam leans forward slowly. “They asked whether you’ve disclosed your juvenile record to the board.”
“I don’t have a board,” I say.
“That’s a problem,” he replies.
I meet his eyes. “It wasn’t until now.”
Luke’s jaw tightens. “They can’t remove you without cause.”
“They don’t need cause,” I answer. “They need optics. A politically connected complaint. A narrative about instability. A suggestion that supervision is required for me to be around vulnerable minors.”
Linda’s hand moves to her throat. “They think you’re dangerous.”
“Yes.” The word doesn’t shake me. I’ve heard it before.
Sam exhales long and slow. “If they initiate temporary administrative suspension…”
“I’m barred from direct interaction until their review concludes,” I finish.
Luke’s hand finally closes around mine. Not possessive. Not romantic. Grounding.
“He’s not just protecting himself,” Luke says. “He’s building a case to discredit you before you ever speak publicly.”
“And to isolate me,” I add.
Because if I’m removed from the youth center, if I’m labeled unstable around children, then any testimony I give about abuse becomes contaminated.
It’s personal, underhanded, and pure evil.
And it’s deliberate. But I refuse to let it break me.
If he thinks this is the end of my story, he’s mistaken.
I am already working on my next move, gathering allies and collecting proof, determined that this time, I will not be outmaneuvered.
However quietly or slowly my defense needs to build,
I am not done fighting back—and I promise, I will not stay silent.