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I tip my head back a fraction, determined to take Kim’s advice and hold it high.
“I’ve responded to your emails. I have nothing to say.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s not giving up. “I understand this is difficult. But this story is running, and we would love to get your side. A short comment? I really think having your voice on this will help so many survivors.”
I try to bite my tongue, but it misses, and the words spill out. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I’ve met enough survivors—a lot of them my friends—to know this has nothing to do with helping us.”
His brows almost hit his hairline. “So, youarea survivor?”
Shit.
I’ve said too much.
“I already told you I have nothing to say.”
I try to turn away, but he barricades me in. Not physically, but his next statement makes me stick to the railing.
“We have proof of the abuse you suffered at the hands of your husband.”
My mouth falls open as the air leaves my body, but I school my features and stand straight.
“What abuse?”
He doesn’t even respond. There’s been rumors, I know that much, but nothing concrete.
After Jared’s warning yesterday, I know I need to get this man out of my face and keep my mouth shut.
I hate being backed into a corner. If there ever comes a time when I want to share my story, it won’t be for the public, and it will be on my own terms.
“This is useless. You’re chasing a story that doesn’t exist anymore. My husband is dead.”
Finally, he drops the sympathetic act. “Suicide, right? He took your daughter—”
“That’s enough. Whatever you want to drag up about my husband, go ahead, but leave my children out of this.” My blood drains from my body and pools at my feet. Fighting the bile rising in my throat, I blink the sting away from my eyes. “Have you spoken to my husband’s family?” I ask only because they fought to keep that part of the story out of the headlines and succeeded—until now it would seem.
My husband’s suicide may not be news anymore, but my daughter’s involvement is. With the mention of her, I feel the steel barrier come down between us because fuck him. I will go to the ends of this Earth to protect my baby.
“Tried to, yes. But we don’t need them. We have sources close to the family. Is it true that you stayed at Guiding Light Women’s Shelter before and after your husband’s death?” He doesn’t give me the opportunity to respond. “Is that why you’re here tonight?”
I stay silent, and the bastard keeps going.
“On the day your husband died, you were in the hospital after giving birth to your youngest daughter, and your eldest daughter was in the care of the manager of that shelter.” He unfolds a piece of paper in his hand. I don’t know if he’s doing it for dramatic effect or just being an asshole, but he doesn’t read it because we both know who managed the shelter, and she’s right inside those double doors. “Claire Russell.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
How does he know these details?
“You’re barking up the wrong tree. You do realize who funded that shelter? You’re at his event.”
He shakes his head, keeping his voice as calm as the moment he approached me. “Jake Williams, CEO of JW Media and soon to be married to the same Claire Russell I speak of.”
This guy has balls, I’ll give him that much. Jake will hit the roof when he realizes this is being investigated, and he'll probably turn murderous when he finds out Claire was mentioned.
As if reading my mind, he answers my unasked question. “Miss Russell’s name will never be mentioned, and Jake Williams has no power over what we print.”
“What’s your angle here?”
“The Ellison family are a powerful family.”
