And burned at the edges.
Evangeline lets out a small gasp. “I didn’t buy that.”
“I know.”
There’s no note. No explanation. Just the ruined garment, like a warning.
I know your secret.
I left something for you.
It’s him. It has to be.
And if he knows about the baby?
Evangeline and my little sibling aren’t safe.
I clench my fists. “We’re not waiting around for him to make the next move.”
“What are we going to do?” Evie whispers.
I turn to her, heart hammering, and for once, I don’t feel like the coldest person in the room.
“I’m going to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.”
She looks at me like she’s seeing someone new.
Maybe she is.
Because I’m not afraid of my father anymore.
I’m just angry.
And that makes me dangerous.
Ask anyone.
Evangeline sits on the edge of the bed, her hands shaking, the way mine used to after one of his “lessons.” “What if he’s already watching us?” she asks, her voice thin, barely audible.
“He probably is,” I say. “But he wants you afraid. He wants you paralyzed.”
I walk over to the dresser and pick up the onesie. It’s singed along one sleeve, charred but not destroyed.
A statement. A message.I can reach you. I’m already close.
My throat constricts. Change erupts inside me. I’m done being the bitch in heels. The narcissist craving attention she didn’t get from Mommy and Daddy.
I’m my own person, raised by a man who tried to break me.
But I’m here. A little fractured maybe but still standing.
“You’re not alone in this,” I say to Evie.
She meets my gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. She’s always been composed. An elegant perfectionist. Matchmaker and event planner to the elites.
She’s none of that now.
“I thought he was just another powerful bastard,” she says. “They're all cold as ice. I've seen it before. One I could use for my own gain. One I could walk away from.”
