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After he had the lighting and sound to his liking, Veronica straightened in her chair and put on the serious journalist face I’d seen on television many times.
“It’s not often I get a call from one of the most recognized women in the world. She’s a vice president of her family’s organization. She’s known for her charitable work and impeccable style. She’s respected not only in the city of New York, but globally. And she has a story to tell.” She paused dramatically. “It wasn’t what I expected. And neither will you.”
She focused on me. “Normally when I interview someone, this is the part where we get to know you. The surface level things before we dive deep. I don’t think that’s what you want.”
“No,” I said quietly. “My accomplishments aren’t why I’m here.”
Cal threaded his fingers with mine in silent support.
“Why did you reach out to me?”
I had to give Veronica credit. She had concerned reporter down well.
“Because I’ve been physically and mentally abused for a long time and I didn’t say anything. I want others in my position to know that staying silent is never the best option.”
What if Alex had done this to someone else because I hadn’t had the courage to turn him in to the police? What if she was alone and hurting and . . . helpless?
“I don’t want to be helpless anymore,” I whispered.
Lincoln put an arm around me and Teague reached over him to touch my knee.
“You have a lot of support,” Veronica observed.
“Yet I still said nothing.”
I stuffed down the shame that threatened to silence me once more.
“If a friend had come to me facing the exact situation I was in, I would’ve known what to do. It might not have been easy, but I would’ve been decisive and strong.” I lifted my chin and straightened my shoulders. “Instead, I behaved in a way I normally never would. Because of fear.”
There was more than sympathy in Veronica’s eyes. Understanding. In a way that only people who had been in similar circumstances could share.
“What brought you out of that fear?”
I pointed to my forehead. “I literally had my head bashed into a door.”
Her eyes widened at my candor, but she kept her composure. “How long did you suffer this type of abuse?”
“Physically, only a couple of weeks. It started with a squeeze of the hand, just hard enough not to break it. Interestingly enough, I didn’t tolerate that.” I had a small satisfaction as I recalled stabbing the top of Alex’s hand with a fork. Strangely enough, I think he liked it on some level. “The next time it happened, it was more aggressive. I was so stunned, I froze.”
“You kneed that son of a bitch in the balls,” Garrett growled in my ear.
It was no consolation. I was embarrassed I’d ever let it get that far. I shuddered, still able to taste the stale whiskey on Alex’s breath.
“If you need a minute . . .” Veronica said.
“No.” I refocused on my mission. “That time I had a bruised jaw.” I pointed where the evidence was fading. “A nearly broken arm, and he’d forced himself on me. I’d never felt so powerless.”
Lincoln bolted to his feet. He covered his face with his hand. “Shit.”
He’d already heard this once, and it was no easier the second time. That was one reason I never wanted to tell them. Because it hurt them.
The camera followed Lincoln. I wanted to stand between it and him. Tell them to stop filming. But this was real. This was what abuse did to families. And maybe if someone saw this, they might recognize it and be able to get help.
“Lincoln.”
He refused to look at me. “I’m supposed to be the barrier between you and him.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
