“We need to leave. Tonight.” She moves to my closet and pulls out my overnight bag. “Pack your essentials. We don’t have much time.”
I sit up straighter. “Leave? Why would we leave?”
Mom stops rummaging through my closet and turns to face me. Her usually perfect makeup is smudged around her eyes, like she’s been crying.
“I think Dom tried to have you killed.”
The words hang in the air between us. My heart pounds in my chest.
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction.
“Is it?” She sits beside me on the bed. “The detective came to see me before he left the house. He said youshouldn’t be living in this house with Dom. That it’s not safe for you to be here.”
I shake my head. “Dom has been nothing but nice to me since the accident.”
“Of course he has!” She grips my arm. “He’s covering his tracks. Don’t you see? He was seen throwing you over his shoulder as he rushed out of the club. Don’t you think it’s a bit coincidental that you were hit by a car not long afterward?”
I think about the diary hidden under my pillow. The entries about SweetJustice. The blackmail. Dom’s apparent knowledge of my activities on Pampered Princess.
Could Dom be SweetJustice? Could he have orchestrated everything?
“He has cameras everywhere in this house,” Mom continues. “He watches your every move. Why do you think he’s being so attentive now? He’s making sure you don’t remember what happened that night.”
The diary mentioned cameras. It mentioned Dom’s cold eyes when someone crossed him. It mentioned a man who disappeared.
“Please, Amara.” Mom’s voice breaks. “I’m frightened for you. We need to go somewhere safe, somewhere he can’t find us.”
I look at her, really look at her. The fear in her eyes seems genuine. But something doesn’t add up. If Dom wanted me dead, why keep me alive now? Why the gentle care, the protection?
Unless he’s waiting for something. Waiting to see what I remember.
“I’m staying here,” I say finally.
“Are you for real?” Mom stares at me in disbelief.
“If Dom tried to kill me and I suddenly left with you, he’ll know I’m onto him. I need to stay and figure out what happened.”
“You stupid girl,” she hisses as she shakes her head furiously at me. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”
Mom paces in front of me, her stomps are hard and angry but cushioned against the plush carpet.
“Amara, you’re not thinking clearly.” She stops and kneels in front of me, taking my hands in hers. “It’s the head injury. You can’t possibly understand the danger you’re in.”
I pull my hands away. “I understand enough. If Dom wanted me dead, I’d be dead already.”
“You don’t know him like I do.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “When he decides someone is a problem, they disappear. He’s just waiting to see what you remember.”
“Then running would confirm I remember something, wouldn’t it?”
Her face hardens. “Fine. You want to stay in this house with a murderer, be my guest.” She stands, smoothing her dress. “But when you remember what happened that night, I hope you don’t regret it.”
“I won’t.”
“This is Milly and Lia’s influence, isn’t it?” Her voice rises with each word. “They’ve turned you against me!”
“Nobody’s turned me against you. I’m making my own decision.”
“Your own decision?” She laughs bitterly. “You don’t even know who you are anymore!”
