Chapter 55
Corine
It had been exactly one month since that night. Since the gunshot, the blood, the screaming, the ambulance lights painting the streets of L.A. in red and blue. Since the sound of my own children crying for me became something that echoed in my head every time I closed my eyes.
And yet, here I was-healing, slowly. Both inside and out. My stitches were gone, but the ache remained. Not just in my arm, but in my heart. I hadn't returned home. I couldn't. My therapist warned me that being back there, in that living room where Allen nearly destroyed me, would be too triggering. So, Jasper took me in. Me, Brittany, Kyle, and Astrid. He didn't even hesitate.
Jasper had been... everything. My rock, my safe place. He was there when I couldn't speak, when I couldn't sleep, when the nightmares made my body jolt awake in a cold sweat. He was there when Kyle wouldn't let go of me or when Astrid cried and pointed to my bandaged hand asking, "Mommy, ouchie?"
He didn't just care for me. He took care of all of us.
But nothing ever stays calm for long.
It was mid-afternoon, Brittany had taken the kids to the backyard to paint while I nursed a cup of tea and flipped through a book I hadn't been able to read for the last fifteen minutes. My body tensed when I heard the loud knocking at the door.
Jasper was on the phone in the kitchen, but as soon as the knocking turned into pounding, he hung up. I stood, my heart already racing, but he gave me a look and gestured for me to sit down.
Then he opened the door.
"Jasper Jonathan, you have ignored our calls for the last time," his mother's sharp voice rang through the house before I could even register her face. His father was right behind her, face tight and eyes scanning the room like he was inspecting filth.
"Mom. Dad. Not now," Jasper said, already shutting the door behind them.
But it was too late. They'd seen me.
"Is this it?" his mother snapped. "Is she the reason you've been a ghost? The reason your father's name is being dragged through the media like garbage?"
I flinched.
Jasper moved between me and them like a shield. "Don't speak about her like that. Not here. Not in my house."
"Your house? Our name? Do you know what's being said, Jasper? 'Politician's son plays knight in shining armor to deranged woman.' You think that's good for your father's campaign? You think scandal and pity is what we need right now?"
I stood up, tears already stinging my eyes. "I'm not looking for pity," I said softly, but my voice cracked. "And I'm not deranged. I'm a mother trying to survive."
His father sighed, shaking his head. "She has children, Jasper. Another man's children. A man who almost killed her. You want to tie yourself to that forever?"
"They're not that man's kids to me," Jasper snapped, fury in his voice. "They're Kyle and Astrid. They're her kids. And I love them."
His mother scoffed. "You're going to ruin everything for a woman who brings danger and baggage?"
"Stop!" I shouted, tears falling freely now. "Do you think I asked for any of this? I never wanted to fall apart in front of the whole world. I never wanted my kids to see me bleeding or their father unconscious on our living room floor. I didn't ask for the media to find out about us or for your perfect image to be tainted. But guess what? My life isn't about your campaigns."
Jasper turned to me, his face softening as he reached for my hand. I took it, trembling.
"You're right," he told me. Then turned to his parents, fire back in his eyes. "You two have two choices: accept Corinne and the kids or lose me."
His father looked stunned. "You don't mean that."
"I mean every damn word. You want to talk image? You raised me to be a man with principles. To protect the people I love. So if this-standing up for Corinne-is bad for you, then maybe you're not the kind of people I want in my life."
His mother looked at me, almost like she finally saw me. Not a headline. Not a threat. Just a woman, holding on by a thread.
"She has trauma," she said, voice quieter now. "How can you be sure she won't unravel again?"
"Because I have," I whispered. "I unraveled. But I'm here. I got help. I didn't choose to be a victim-but I'm choosing to survive. For my children. And for myself."
Jasper looked at his mother one last time. "If you can't stand beside us, then you don't get to stand beside me. Not now. Not ever."
There was a long pause. Tension held in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Then, his father reached for his wife's arm. "Come on," he muttered. "We've said enough."
"Jasper-" his mother started, but he cut her off with one look.
"I said what I said."
And they left.
The door clicked shut behind them.
I broke down into Jasper's arms, sobbing against his chest, the pain, the fear, the shame-all of it pouring out. He held me tighter than ever.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"For what?"
"That they hate me. That you're in this mess."
He tilted my chin up. "I love you, Corinne. And no one-not even my parents-gets to make me feel ashamed of that."
And for the first time in weeks, I believed it. Even in the middle of the storm, I believed in us.