CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Palisade
The morning light filtered through Casey's bedroom curtains, but my daughter hadn't moved in over an hour. She lay curled on her side, facing the wall, the stuffed wolf Easton had given her clutched tight against her chest.
"Casey, sweetheart," I whispered from the doorway, keeping my voice gentle. "It's time to get ready for school."
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
I'd been awake since four in the morning, my mind replaying yesterday's chaos on an endless loop.
The reporters who flooded the clinic. The flashing cameras.
Casey's terrified face as the photographer followed her.
The sound of Toby's cage rattling when she stumbled backward.
Easton's fury as he physically removed the man from our space.
The whole thing had taken maybe five minutes. It felt like a lifetime.
I crossed to Casey's bed and sat on the edge, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Baby, I know yesterday was scary."
"I don't want to go to school." Her voice was small, muffled by the pillow.
"Why not?"
She rolled over to face me, and my heart broke at the fear in her eyes. "What if those people are there? What if they take pictures of me again?"
I pulled her into my arms, her small body trembling against me. "They won't be at your school, sweetheart. I promise."
"You promised they wouldn't come to the clinic either." Her words weren't accusatory, just honest. And devastating.
I'd been na?ve. I'd convinced myself that if we kept our heads down, the media attention surrounding Easton's paternity would blow over. Instead, it had escalated.
"You're right," I admitted, stroking her hair. "I didn't think they would do that. But your school has rules about visitors. They won't let strangers onto the campus."
Casey pulled back to look at me. "Is this because of me? Because I'm a surprise?"
The question hit me like a physical blow. "What? No, Casey, absolutely not."
"That lady at the store said I was a surprise. She said Dad didn't know about me." Her lower lip trembled. "Is that why the people want pictures? Because I'm bad?"
"Oh, baby, no." I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. "You are not bad. You are not a problem. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. And to your dad."
She nodded slowly, but I could see the doubt lingering in her eyes.
"Can I stay home today? Just today?" she whispered.
I thought about my schedule, the full appointment book. Monique could run the front desk, but we were already short-staffed after yesterday's chaos.
Then I thought about the fear in my daughter's voice, the way she'd screamed when that photographer followed her.
"Okay," I said, kissing the top of her head. "Just today. But tomorrow, we try school again. Deal?"
"Deal."
I got her settled on the couch with cartoons and called my father. He answered on the second ring, his voice rough with sleep.
"Sadie? Everything okay?"
"Can you come over? Casey's not going to school today, and I need to check on the clinic."
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
True to his word, he arrived exactly twenty minutes later, bringing fresh bagels and orange juice. Casey perked up at the sight of her grandpa, and I felt marginally less guilty about leaving her.
"Thanks, Dad," I said, grabbing my keys. "I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours."
He studied my face, the lines around his eyes deepening. "You look like you didn't sleep."
"I didn't."
"Easton?"
"Among other things." I didn't want to get into it, knowing Casey was likely listening from the next room.
My father nodded. "He called me last night. After everything that happened at the clinic."
That stopped me mid-reach for my purse. "He did?"
"Wanted to make sure Casey was okay. And you." He paused. "He sounded pretty torn up about it, Sadie."
"He's angry," I said quietly. "At me. At the situation. At himself."
"Sounds like he's got a lot to be angry about." When I flinched, my father added, "I'm not saying you made the wrong choice, sweetheart. I'm just saying anger doesn't always mean someone's going to leave. Sometimes it means they care enough to stay and work through it."
I didn't have a response to that, so I kissed his cheek and left.
The drive to the clinic felt longer than usual, my stomach churning with dread. When I pulled into the parking lot, I immediately noticed the difference. The building looked the same from the outside, but something felt off.
Inside, Monique was already at her desk, her expression grim.
"How bad?" I asked without preamble.
She handed me a stack of pink message slips. "There have been three cancellations already this morning. Mrs. Henderson called to reschedule indefinitely. The Parkers want to transfer their records to Dr. Mason's practice."
My heart sank. "Because of yesterday?"
"Because of the media attention." Monique's voice was gentle. "Mrs. Henderson specifically mentioned not wanting her dogs photographed or her family dragged into your drama."
I closed my eyes, fighting the wave of nausea. This was my livelihood. My practice. Years of building trust and relationships with clients, and it was unraveling because of who Casey's father was.
"There's more," Monique said, her voice dropping. "Someone left this taped to the front door."
She handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened it with shaking hands.
GOLD DIGGER. LEAVE EASTON ALONE.
The words were written in angry capital letters, the pen pressed so hard it had nearly torn through the paper in places.
"Jesus," I whispered.
"I took it down before any clients saw it. But Sadie…" Monique hesitated. "You should probably check your online reviews."
I pulled out my phone, already knowing what I'd find. Sure enough, the clinic's Google page was flooded with new one-star reviews.
"Unprofessional. Brought her personal drama to work."
"You can't trust a vet who hides children from their father for years."
"She trapped a rich hockey player with a baby and now she's cashing in. DISGRACEFUL."
None of them were actual clients. Many of the profiles had generic names and no photos, suggesting they'd never set foot inside the clinic.
But potential clients wouldn't know that.
"How many?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Twelve so far. I've been trying to report them as spam, but…" Monique shrugged helplessly.
I sank into one of the waiting room chairs, the phone heavy in my hand. This was worse than I'd imagined. The clinic was under attack, and the unwanted media attention only made things worse.
My phone buzzed. A text from Easton.
Easton: How's Casey?
I stared at the message, torn between gratitude that he cared and frustration that I was dealing with this mess alone.
Actually, that wasn't fair. He'd asked to help yesterday. Multiple times. And I'd pushed him away, insisting I could handle it.
Look how well that was working out.
Me:
Staying home today. Too scared to go to school. I'm at the clinic now. It's not good.
Easton:
What happened?
Me:
Cancellations. Bad reviews. Someone left a note calling me a gold digger.
Easton:
I'm in a meeting with the team management. Can I call you after?
Me:
Sure.
I pocketed my phone and looked at Monique. "What's on the schedule?"
"Just the Martins' cat surgery, but they canceled. And Mrs. Park's follow-up for her beagle's ear infection."
A schedule that should have been packed, reduced to a single appointment.
"Okay," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Let's focus on Mrs. Park's dog. And maybe we can catch up on paperwork, organize the supply closet…"
"Sadie." Monique's voice was gentle but firm. "You can't ignore this."
"I'm not ignoring it. I'm staying busy, so I don't think about it."
"That's literally ignoring it."
I dropped my head into my hands. "What am I supposed to do, Monique? Hold a press conference? Defend myself to anonymous internet trolls? None of this is fair. I did what I thought was right for my daughter, and now I'm being crucified for it."
"I know." She came around the desk and put a hand on my shoulder. "But maybe you need to let Easton help. He offered yesterday, didn't he?"
"He offered to make me and Casey move into his condo like we're in some kind of witness protection."
"Because he's trying to protect you."
"By taking control of everything. Again." The words came out more bitter than I'd intended.
Monique squeezed my shoulder. "Or maybe he's trying to take responsibility for his part in this mess. You didn't get pregnant alone, Sadie. And you're not dealing with the fallout alone either, whether you like it or not."
Before I could respond, my phone rang. Easton.
I answered. "Hey."
"Hey. The meeting just ended. Tell me what happened at the clinic."
I walked him through the cancellations, the note, the reviews. He listened without interrupting, and I could almost feel his anger building through the phone.
"This is exactly what I was afraid of," he said, his voice tight.
"I know."
"Sadie, you can't—"
"Please don't tell me I can't handle this," I interrupted. "I know I can't. But I also can't uproot Casey's entire life because some strangers on the internet are being cruel."
"This isn't just internet cruelty. Someone came to your clinic and left a threatening note. What if next time they don't leave a note?"
The fear in his voice made my anxiety spike. "You think someone would actually…?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm not willing to risk finding out. Are you?"
I thought about Casey's face this morning, the fear in her eyes. The way she'd asked if she was bad.
"No," I whispered.
"Then let me help. Please."
It went against every instinct I had, especially the instinct to be independent, to handle my own problems, to not need anyone. But God, I was tired.
And scared.
And drowning.
"Okay," I said. "What did you have in mind?"
"Let me talk to my security team. We can get someone to monitor your clinic and your house. Make sure no one gets close enough to leave notes or harass clients."
"That sounds expensive."
"I don't care."
"Easton—"
"Sadie." His voice softened. "Casey is my daughter. You're her mother. Like it or not, we're in this together now. So yeah, I'm going to help. And you need to let me."
The words should have been comforting. Instead, they reminded me of what I'd cost him. What I was still costing him.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Okay. I'll text you when I have details."
He hung up, and I stood in my clinic, phone in hand, feeling like the walls were closing in. Through the doorway to the treatment room, I could see yesterday's damage. Toby's cage still sat slightly askew, with a few items knocked off shelves in the chaos.
My father was right this morning. I looked like I hadn't slept.
The past weeks felt like a blur, survival mode. Hiding.
And now all my hiding places were exposed.
My phone buzzed with a text from Monique's phone at the front desk: You need to come see this. Now.
I frowned and walked back to the reception area. "I'm right here. What…"
She pointed at her computer screen. "This just got posted."
I leaned over to look. It was a local news article already piling up with comments.
SHADOW WOLVES' HENLEY HAS A SECRET DAUGHTER. VET'S CLINIC UNDER FIRE.
Below it was a photo taken yesterday of Casey's terrified face pressed against the clinic window and Easton's hand on the photographer's shoulder.
"Oh God," I said.
My phone buzzed again. Another text, this one from a number I didn't recognize.
Everyone knows what you are now. Gold digger.
My hands shook as I deleted the message. Then, I blocked the number. But it didn't matter. The words were already burned into my brain.
Everyone knows what you are.
I walked into the employee bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Messy hair, dark circles under my eyes, wearing yesterday's clothes because I'd been too exhausted to change. I looked like someone barely keeping herself together.
And somewhere across town, Easton was probably being told he'd screwed up by defending us. Probably being asked to explain why he'd put his hands on a photographer. Probably being reminded that his image, his brand, his career all depended on him not making scenes like yesterday.
I splashed water on my face and tried to pull myself together.
This was all my fault.
And I had no idea how to fix it.