Chapter 22 #2
"Stay calm?" I'm not calm. I'm the opposite of calm. I'm a bomb with the timer hitting zero.
"We have options," Patricia says firmly. "His criminal exposure with the loan fraud could work in our favor. If we can prove financial abuse—"
"Prove it to who? He's charming. He's so charming. Everyone believes him. My own mother believes him over me."
"The court looks at patterns, Ms. Thomas. Documentation. Evidence."
Evidence.
I have evidence. The Sartoris have evidence. Nico said they tracked every payment Jack intercepted.
But using that means admitting I work for the mafia. Means proving Jack's accusations right.
Unstable. Works for dangerous people.
I press my forehead to my knees and try to breathe.
"What do I do?" My voice comes out small. Defeated. Everything I swore I'd never sound like again.
"We file a response. We request discovery on his financial records. And we document everything about your current living situation that demonstrates stability and care for Lily."
My current living situation.
I'm living in a mafia compound because my ex put a Russian mob debt in my name and they know where my apartment is.
How exactly do I document that?
"I'll call you tomorrow with next steps," Patricia says. "Try to rest."
She hangs up.
I don't move. Can't move.
The marble floor seeps cold through my work pants. Somewhere in the house, a vacuum hums to life. Normal sounds. Normal day.
Except nothing is normal.
Jack filed for custody.
The tears come hot and fast. I hate them. Hate that he can still make me cry. Hate that after everything, he still has power over me.
Wait.
How does Jack even know where I work?
Alleged criminal connections.
That's specific. That's not a guess.
My hands shake as I pull up my mother's contact. The betrayal burns fresh, raw, a wound I keep reopening.
She answers on the second ring. "Kristen, honey, I was just thinking about—"
"How does Jack know where I work?"
Silence.
"Mom."
"I don't—what do you mean?"
"He filed for custody." My voice cracks on the word. "His lawyer claims I work for criminals. How does he know that?"
More silence. The damning kind.
"I thought..." Her voice goes small. Guilty. "He said he wanted to pick you up from work. Try to fix things between you two. I thought if he saw how well you were doing—"
"You told him." Not a question. A death sentence. "You gave him my employer's information."
"He's Lily's father, Kristen. He has a right to—"
"He has a right?" I'm laughing again. That unhinged sound that scares me. "He stole a hundred thousand dollars from me, Mom. Put a loan in my name with dangerous people. And you handed him ammunition to take my daughter."
"That can't be true. Jack wouldn't—"
"Jack did." I press my palm flat against the wall. My chest hurts. Everything hurts. "The money I've been sending him? For the surgery payments? He kept it. Every single dollar. The debt is still there. It's bigger now. And he knew. He knew what he was doing to me."
The silence stretches. I hear her breathing change. Processing.
"Kristen, I... I didn't know."
"You never know." Tears blur my vision. "You never see what he really is because he smiles and says the right things. But I need you to see it now, Mom. For one fucking time in my life, I need you on my side."
She makes a small sound. Hurt. "I'm always on your side."
"No." The word tastes bitter. "You're on the side of the man you wish I'd married. The version of Jack that doesn't exist. But I can't keep fighting him and you at the same time. I can't do it anymore."
"I'm sorry." Her voice breaks. "Kristen, baby, I'm so sorry. I thought I was helping. I thought if you two could just talk—"
"He doesn't want to talk. He wants to win."
I know she doesn't hate me. That's the worst part. She genuinely believed she was doing the right thing. Matchmaking. Fixing. Playing peacemaker because that's what mothers do.
But her good intentions might cost me my daughter.
"I have to go," I whisper.
"Kristen, please—"
I hang up.
The phone slips from my fingers. Clatters against the marble floor. The sound echoes through the empty hallway like a gunshot.
I need to get to my room.
That's the only coherent thought left. Everything else is static. White noise. The roar of panic drowning out rational thought.
My legs move. One foot in front of the other. Past the formal living room. Past the study where Pietro sometimes works. Up the sweeping staircase that felt like a fairy tale two weeks ago and now feels like a prison.
Jack filed for custody.
My mother told him where I work.
The Sartoris are criminals.
I kissed Nico last night.
The pieces tumble through my head, sharp-edged and cutting. Every step sends another one slicing through my composure.
Unstable behavior.
Maybe Jack's right. Maybe I am unstable. What stable person makes out with a mafia guy while her daughter sleeps down the hall? What stable person takes a job with criminals because she's too desperate to ask questions?
Criminal connections.
They'll take Lily. They'll give her to Jack because he wears nice suits and knows how to charm judges. Because he'll show up with his perfect hair and his rehearsed remorse and everyone will believe him.
Everyone always believes him.
I reach my door. Shove it open. Make it three steps inside before my knees give out.
The carpet cushions my fall. Expensive fibers against my cheek. I curl into myself, arms wrapped around my stomach like I can hold the pieces together through sheer force.
But I can't.
I'm breaking.
And this time, I don't know how to put myself back together.