Chapter Nineteen
Rona
We spent last night in the kind of hotel that sits tucked against the freeway. It’s anonymous enough that no one will look at us a second time when I walk in the door and safe enough that my mother can meet us there.
I didn’t sleep much. I kept jerking awake anytime my body relaxed, my hands reaching for Darhg in the king-sized bed, only to find nothing.
Not that Darhg slept, either. He spent the night looking out the window, vigilant as ever.
It’s been only one night, but already, the comfort and peace of the cabin feels like something too good to be true. Something I made up. Something that didn’t really happen.
Like my mating with Darhg. Maybe I’m that desperate. Maybe I made up the whole romantic thing.
But no. This is not true. Darhg cares for me. I know it.
The sound of multiple large engine vehicles shatters the quiet like breaking glass. I jolt upright in the hotel bed, my heart hammering against my ribs as the sound of heavy footsteps echoes across the parking lot outside.
Darhg is already moving, walking the few steps to the window in one fluid motion. His amber eyes blaze red in the pale light filtering through the thin hotel curtains as he peers through them. The rigid set of his shoulders tells me everything I need to know.
"Two black SUVs," he says quietly. "Government plates."
My mother is here.
Relief and dread war in my chest in equal measure. My hands shake as I push my hair back from my face. I can't seem to catch my breath properly, the walls of this small room pressing in like they're closing around me.
“She will believe me,” I tell him, but I can’t tell if it’s for my own benefit or his. “She has to believe me now that it wasn’t real.”
He nods, but his attention remains fixed on the window, watching whatever's happening in the parking lot below. I wrap my arms around myself, still wearing yesterday's clothes, feeling raw and exposed all over again.
A few moments later, the hotel room door opens without ceremony and my mother strides in with the kind of commanding presence that transforms any room into her territory.
Senator Melissa Quinn in full power mode is a force of nature and she’s dressed to kill this morning.
Her hair is perfectly done in a tight, severe bun.
Her beautiful face is done in expert level makeup, her lips painted a classic red and her eyebrows arched to sophisticated perfection.
Her eyes are hidden behind large sunglasses, which she takes off with a dramatic sigh as she sets her sharp pale-blue glare on me.
She shrugs out of her charcoal wool coat to reveal an ivory power suit as tailored as the rest of her appearance.
A tiny voice inside my skull whimpers like a scolded puppy as she removes supple leather gloves and sets them on the side table by the door.
Behind her, Caroline Sparks flutters like an anxious butterfly, her moss-green wings twitching with nervous energy as she clutches a tablet to her chest. The pixie meets my gaze only once, then quickly looks away.
She knows as well as I do that this isn’t going to be pleasant. At least, not for me.
Two stone-faced security agents position themselves at the door but don’t step inside.
I wonder for a second if they’re Darhg’s men, but they give no indication of recognizing him.
Darhg stares at them and nods in a subtle, almost unnoticeable way.
It’s not much, but I notice the way a vein pulses at his temple.
Yeah. Those are his men. Or at least, they were.
"Rona." Mom's voice cuts through the sudden tension. "My darling girl. How are you holding up?"
I pull Darhg's oversized hoodie tighter around myself, suddenly aware that I'm wearing sweatpants while she's perfectly put together despite the early hour. The familiar weight of being unprepared, of being the messy variable in her carefully managed world, settles over my shoulders.
Darhg steps forward, strong and calm despite the obvious tension radiating in the room. My mother's gaze flicks over him with the kind of assessment that misses nothing. The kind of assessment that forgives nothing as well.
"Senator," he says with a respectful nod. "I apologize for the circumstances."
"No apology necessary." Her tone is brisk, and her smile is brittle. She’s not happy. Not happy at all. "You've kept her safe, which is what matters."
Anxiety churns in my stomach as I see the telltale signs of her simmering anger. I know her well enough to see that she’s stressed and needs someone to blame. Darhg is the most obvious target, and I have no idea how to prevent what’s coming.
"I have proof that the video is a synthetic deepfake," Darhg continues, oblivious to my mother’s glare.
“What kind of proof are we talking about?” Senator Quinn tilts her head, and for the first time since she walked in the room, she looks genuinely interested.
Hope rises in my chest like a balloon at her reaction. Finally. Vindication. Technical proof that what everyone saw wasn't real, wasn't me. I straighten, feeling lighter for the first time since this nightmare began.
Darhg explains to her the details about the extra fingers and Mom watches him like a hawk, missing nothing of his words.
“It will hold in court,” Darhg assures her. “If you want to sue once you figure out who created and published it.”
Mom’s eyes flick to me, and the faintest of smiles lifts the corner of her perfect red lips.
"I know it’s a fake, Rona."
The casual words hit me like a slap. I blink, certain I misheard. "You what?"
"I've known the video was fake since day one," she says, her tone matter-of-fact as she shakes her head. "I hired the best forensic AI experts as soon as you left with Darhg."
The hope I'd been nurturing crumbles to ash in my chest.
"You knew?" My voice cracks on the words. "You knew it was fake, and you still didn’t tell anyone the truth?"
"Truth and public perception are two different things, Rona." Her blue-green eyes meet mine with the ruthlessness that I’m used to seeing her use on her enemies. It’s the first time she ever looked at me like that and I don’t care for it.
"Denial doesn't matter when public opinion is already poisoned.
The damage was done the moment that video went viral. "
The words land on me like a lead blanket. She knew I was innocent, but that knowledge was secondary to political damage control. Truth became irrelevant the moment it became inconvenient.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I shouldn’t be hurt. I still feel tears burn in my eyes and I blink to suppress them.
"But everyone will think I did these things," I say, my voice starting strong but wavering as I go on. "Shouldn't I defend myself? If I say nothing, then it’s like I admit it’s true. Doesn’t it matter?"
Ugh. I feel sick. It’s a good thing I didn’t eat this morning.
"Of course it matters." But her tone suggests it matters less than other considerations. "What matters more is containing the fallout and protecting what we can."
She meant what matters most to her career. Not to me. Not to my own life and my own dreams.
I feel myself shrinking, falling into the same old patterns of compliance that have shaped my entire life. The familiar weight of helplessness settles over me, making it hard to breathe.
Darhg shifts beside me, and I catch the way his jaw tightens at Mom's dismissal. There's something protective in his posture that makes me stand a little straighter.
"There’s more pressing issues than the deepfake," he says, his voice careful and controlled. "Someone leaked Rona's location to the press. Someone close to her. Someone she trusts."
“What?” Mom's expression sharpens with genuine concern. "How certain are you?"
"Certain enough. My contact is analyzing her phone now. If there's tracking software, he'll find it."
"You gave her phone to an outside party?" Caroline interjects, her voice pitched with indignation. "That's a serious overreach on your part."
"I don’t care how far I’m overreaching," Darhg cuts her off, his voice carrying an edge that makes Caroline's wings flutter and her eyes grow wider. No one talks to Senator Melissa Quinn like that. "Rona’s safety comes first. If someone she trusts sold her out, she deserves to know."
The words hang in the air like an accusation. I watch my mother's face go very still as the implications sink in. Someone close to us, someone with access to private information, betrayed me for money. Or influence. Or revenge. Possibly all of those.
"You're suggesting a mole in my team," Mom says quietly.
"I'm stating a fact." Darhg's amber eyes never waver from hers. "There’s no other explanation. How else would a scumbag like Gribble Nix track her down to a small town like Saltford Bay?"
Finally, Mom nods slowly. "Fine. Your contact can analyze the phone. But I want a full report on his findings and his credentials."
"Of course."
The concession seems to cost her something, acknowledging that her carefully managed world has been compromised from within. But before the conversation can continue, Caroline steps forward with her tablet, her expression shifting from indignation to something that looks like panic.
"Senator," she says, her voice high-pitched, her small body almost vibrating with nervous energy. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's something you need to see. Right now."
My stomach plummets as she turns the tablet toward us. The screen shows The Sizzle's website, and even from across the room, I can see the large photograph that dominates the page. It's crystal clear, taken with a long lens through the cabin window.
Darhg and me. Darhg and me kissing, my arms around his neck, his hands gentle at my waist.
Shit. This isn’t a deepfake. This is real.
The headline makes my skin crawl: "SENATOR'S WILD DAUGHTER: Inappropriate Bodyguard Romance While Mother Pushes 'Family Values' Agenda."
Darhg curses loudly, the crude words bouncing on the walls like his anger can shield me from what’s coming. It seems like Gribble was sneakier than Darhg thought.
"It went live twenty minutes ago," Caroline continues, swiping through cascading viral commentary. "It's already trending on three platforms. #QuinnScandal is gaining momentum by the hour."
She scrolls through the responses with the efficiency of someone who lives for this kind of crisis management.
She takes screenshots of gossip sites picking up the story, screenshots of social media posts with thousands of shares, screenshots of news outlets already crafting their own versions of the narrative.
I don’t think I’ll ever see the end of this. All those comments are nastier than the previous ones.
My chest tightens as shame and fury grind together like broken glass.
“Oh no!” Caroline’s voice is shrill and shaky. “This is bad. This is very bad.”
"What now?" Mom says, her temper flaring and her face flushed. I’ve rarely seen her in a state like this.
Caroline swipes to another screen, revealing a flood of text messages and emails.
"Donors are blowing up our phones, and Cassius Roarke just held a press conference suggesting you should be removed from the committee."
This is all my fault. The thought bounces around in my head again and again.
The weight of collateral damage crushes down on me. This isn't just about my reputation anymore. It's about everything my mother worked for, everything she believes in being destroyed. Because of me.
"They’re attacking your family values," Caroline adds. "A senator who can't control her own daughter's behavior. They’re also saying you can’t vet your own staff properly and that an inappropriate affair was going on just under your nose. They’re saying your family has become a tabloid spectacle."
Mom's face goes very still as she processes the full scope of the damage. When she speaks, her voice is cold as ice, and her gaze is even colder as it lands on Darhg.
"Darhg," she says without blinking. "You're dismissed. Effective immediately."
The words hit the room like a bomb. I watch all the color drain from Darhg's face as the dismissal lands.
"Senator—" he starts.
"This is not a negotiation." Her voice cuts through his protest like a blade.
"Your assignment was to protect my daughter.
Instead, you've made her even more of a target.
You've compromised her safety and my family's reputation, and that’s not even taking into account how unprofessional an affair between you two is. "
"That's not fair." I finally find my voice, though it comes out smaller than I intended. "He kept me safe. He—"
"He created a scandal that's threatening everything we've worked for," Mom interrupts.
She turns back to Darhg, her expression implacable.
"I want you gone within the hour. And if you think about going to the press or monetizing this situation, I'll make sure you never work in private security again. Are we clear?"
The threat hangs in the air like a loaded weapon. I watch Darhg's hands clench and unclench at his sides, watch him absorb the dismissal without argument even though I can see the pain it causes him.
His gaze finds mine across the room, seeking something in my expression.
I want to fight for him, want to tell my mother she's wrong, that what we have is worth defending. But the words stick in my throat. I have no doubt my mother will make good on her threat. She will destroy Darhg’s career if he stays with me.
I can’t allow that. He lost enough on my behalf.
“Rona?” he asks, his handsome, open face tense. “What is it that you want?”
Mom’s mouth curves downward at this display of disobedience, but Darhg doesn’t even spare her a glance. I’m his only focus.
“Just go.” The words rip out of my mouth and I feel bile rise up in my throat. “Go, Darhg. I’ll be fine.”
I square my shoulders and grip my hands in my lap even though all I want is to jump in his arms. The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we don’t say.
Then, slowly like in a nightmare, Darhg seems to understand my choice. He nods once, accepting the dismissal with the same stoic dignity he's shown throughout this entire nightmare. He turns around, preparing to leave.
At the threshold, he pauses and speaks directly to me, his voice quiet but absolutely certain. "I'm going to make this right. I promise you, Rona."
Then he steps past the agents into the bitter cold and out of my life.
The moment the door clicks shut, something essential tears apart inside my chest, the pain so intense I bend over in two. The sound of a woman crying fills the room, and it takes me a while to realize it’s coming from me.
But I don’t care. I’ve lost all reasons to care.