Chapter 23 Savannah #2
She hands me the phone, and I have to force myself to look at the images.
Rebecca's face was swollen and bruised beyond recognition, her torso covered in purple and black marks.
Hospital paperwork documenting the injuries.
And then screenshots of text messages from Thad's number, threats that escalate into something terrifying.
You can't just leave me.
I'll find you wherever you go.
If I can't have you, no one will.
Your family will pay for this.
"I tried to press charges," Rebecca says. "But Thad's father knew the district attorney. The case disappeared. And then Thad's lawyers contacted me with a settlement offer—a substantial amount of money in exchange for signing an NDA and dropping all charges."
"You took it." I’m not judging her—it sounds like exactly the kind of thing that a person would agree to in order to make a nightmare like that end. I hope she understands that.
"They made it clear what would happen if I didn't. They had photos of my parents' house.
My little sister's school schedule. They knew where my mother worked, what route my father took to the office.
" Her voice breaks. "They said accidents happen all the time.
That it would be a shame if something happened to my family because I couldn't let go of the past."
The casual cruelty of it makes me feel sick. "So you ran."
"I moved to Portland and changed my name.
I cut off contact with everyone from my old life because I was terrified Thad would use them to find me.
" She takes her phone back and closes the Photos app with shaking hands.
"I've spent ten years looking over my shoulder.
Ten years afraid to date anyone seriously because what if Thad finds out?
What if he decides I broke the NDA? What if—"
She stops herself, and when she looks at me, her eyes are full of pity. "You're engaged to him. Which means you're already in deeper than I ever was. Which means—"
"Which means I need to know everything." I lean forward, and my voice is steady despite the fear coursing through me. "Do you know if there was ever anyone else like this?”
Rebecca's expression darkens. "There was a girl before me. Jennifer Windsor. She dated Thad sophomore year. I didn't know her well, but I heard stories after I left Thad—that she'd tried to break up with him and he wouldn't let her go, that she was planning to file a restraining order."
"What happened to her?"
"She fell from her apartment balcony. Fourth floor.
The police ruled it an accident—said she'd been drinking and she must have lost her balance.
" Rebecca's voice is flat, emotionless, like she's reciting facts she's memorized.
"But Jennifer didn't drink. Everyone who knew her said that.
And her roommate told people that Thad had been at the apartment that night, that they'd been fighting. "
The implication hangs in the air between us, terrible and unavoidable.
"You think he killed her."
Rebecca nods. "I think Jennifer was going to expose him.
I think she had evidence of what he'd done to her, and I think Thad made sure she couldn't use it.
" Rebecca pulls out a folder from her bag—physical documents, not digital.
"After what happened to me, I started digging.
I found Jennifer's roommate and got her to talk.
She gave me copies of everything she'd saved—Jennifer's journal entries about Thad, photos of bruises, a draft of the restraining order she never got to file. "
She hands me the folder, and my hands are shaking as I open it. Jennifer's handwriting is neat, precise, and the entries are dated from eight years ago. I read them quickly, my stomach turning with each page.
Thad showed up at my dorm again today. I told him we were done, but he won't listen. He says I belong to him. That I don't get to make decisions about our relationship without his permission.
He's been following me. I see him everywhere—outside my classes, at the library, at the coffee shop where I study. When I confronted him, he said he was just making sure I was safe. But it doesn't feel safe. It feels like being hunted.
I'm scared. He grabbed my wrist so hard yesterday that I have bruises. When I pulled away, he said it was my fault for trying to leave. That if I just stopped fighting him, everything would be fine.
I'm going to file a restraining order. My roommate helped me draft it. I have photos of the bruises, records of all his calls and texts. I'm going to make sure everyone knows what he is.
The entries stop three days before Jennifer died.
"The roommate gave this to the police," Rebecca says quietly.
"But Thad's father made it disappear. Paid her off, threatened her, made sure she understood that talking about it would ruin her life.
She kept copies anyway, just in case there was ever anyone else who needed to know.
She said she couldn't live with herself if she didn't."
I close the folder, and I can feel something hardening inside me—the last remnants of the girl who thought she could handle this situation diplomatically, who thought there was a way to walk away from Thad without destroying him first. That girl is gone.
In her place is someone colder and more calculating, more willing to do whatever it takes.
"Can I keep these?" I ask.
Rebecca hesitates. "If Thad finds out I gave you this—"
"He won't. I promise." I meet her eyes, and I let her see the determination in mine. "I'm going to stop him. Not just for me, but for you and Jennifer and whoever comes after me if I don't. But I need evidence. I need proof that he's done this before."
She studies me for a long moment, and I can see her weighing the risk against the possibility of finally being free from the fear that's controlled her life for a decade. Finally, she nods.
"Take it. Just—be careful. Thad is more dangerous than you think. And he has resources you can't imagine."
"So do I." I stand up, and Rebecca stands with me. "Thank you for meeting me. For trusting me with this."
"Don't thank me yet." Her voice is sad and resigned. "I just hope you make it out of this.”
I leave the bookstore with the folder clutched against my chest. Luca is waiting outside exactly where Romeo said he'd be. He takes one look at my face and doesn't ask questions, just guides me to the car and tells the driver to take us to the airport.
I spend the flight back to New York reading through everything Rebecca gave me—Jennifer's journal, the photos, the medical records from Rebecca's hospitalization, the threatening messages, the drafted restraining order that never got filed.
By the time we land, I have a plan forming in my mind.
Not for the police, who Thad controls. Not for the legal system, which has already failed every woman who's tried to use it against him.
For my father.
Because as much as he’s disappointed me, made me feel like I’m less important as his daughter than as a tool, I know one thing about him that's always been true: he cares about the family reputation.
He cares about legacy. And if I can make him see that Thad is a threat to both of those things—that marrying me to a man who's done these things is a liability he can't afford—then maybe I can turn him into an ally instead of an enemy.
As soon as the plane lands, I call him. He answers on the first ring.
“Savannah?”
“Daddy—” I take a deep breath. “I need you to meet me. I have something you need to see. And if you ever loved me at all, you’ll listen.”