“I didn’t want you to worry while you were writing, but I’ve taken care of her.” He runs his palms up and down my thighs before squeezing them reassuringly. “I’ve had a couple junior operatives with her for a little over a week. We moved her with her family to a safe house a few hundred kilometers away.”
“Carl will wait until his legal team signs off,” I inform Chris. The gritty, practical part of me is still doing its job. “But in the meantime, we?—”
“We rest,” he finishes for me. “Yourest. You’ve earned it.”
Chris spends an hour talking with Abby and the guys, ensuring my protection detail is steadfast before this article is splashed across the front pages. When he’s done, we go to bed early. Not because we are tired—though we are—but because this tiny break before publication feels like a reprieve. Snuggled against Chris with my hand splayed across his chest, I lie awake longer than I let on, tracing through my story with the nagging feeling that I’ve missed something.
“It’s good, baby.” He places his hand over mine and gives it a tender squeeze like he can read my thoughts. “You did your due diligence. It’s all good.”
When I finally close my eyes, it’s with my fingers laced with Chris’s. A silent yet steady reminder that whatever happens tomorrow, I am not going into it alone.
The storm broke slower than I thought it would. Carl published Reese’s story, and it was met with outright denial from those involved and hesitation to believe its validity from other media sources. Until Mattis anonymously emailed every piece of evidence to the addresses of reporters from national broadcasts, all the way down to little local access channels.
Within days, the flood gates opened.
By the end of the week, Reese’s story was being picked up and republished by every media outlet in the country.
And now, at the end of the month, it’s global. Reese’s name, face, and photographs are everywhere. They flash across C-SPAN and late-night broadcasts, anchors admiring this living reminder of what real courage can look like.
Exclusive. Heroic. Truth-teller.
The names she unearthed have been dragged into the light, pulled from the safety of their congressional chambers andbillion-dollar boardrooms. And now the world is watching them sweat.
When the dust settles, our political climate has been completely tipped on its head. Three members are expelled from Congress, and four more resign before they are met with the same fate. Three other conspirators—men who once commanded entire battalions—are facing criminal trials for war crimes at The Hague.
I never thought I’d live to see accountability this real. And I sure as hell never thought it would come because of her.
Reese sits cross-legged on the couch, with her hair pulled into a messy knot, the glow of her laptop casting shadows across her face. She is watching both a congressional hearing and a meeting of an oversight committee, the fallout of her story still slowly toppling like dominoes as these men rat on their friends in an attempt to save their own asses.
On the TV, a congressman wipes his brow as he’s grilled about falsified reports and secret payments. He stammers through half-lies that won’t save him from the truth about the backroom deals he’s been part of.
Reese doesn’t say a word. With her hand pressed to her mouth, she watches in silence with bright and disbelieving eyes. She’s not proud. Not the way some people might expect.Although she should be.She’s stunned. Exhausted. Like she’s been carrying the weight of the world for too long and has only just realized she can put it down.
When the hearing ends, she clicks off the television and closes her laptop. The sound of both feels like a punctuation. This is finally coming to an end for her. Standing behind her, I rest my hands on her shoulders,feeling the tension slowly draining from her body. She leans back into me instinctively. “You did it, baby,” I murmur into her hair.
She turns her head slightly, and I catch the shimmer in her eyes. “I just told the truth.”
“Sometimes, that’s what changes the world. One person willing to say what others won’t.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I drew you a bath. Why don’t you go relax for a bit while I make dinner.”
Reese hesitates, her gaze studying me for a moment, before nodding. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve been waiting for this day.
An hour later, the kitchen smells like wine, garlic, and fresh bread. The dining room table is no longer a mess of papers from being her makeshift desk. It’s covered in a freshly pressed white linen, with neatly set tableware and a small floral centerpiece. I had considered taking her to a fancy restaurant, but that isn’t either of our style.And I want this night to myself.
Reese walks downstairs, the long navy-blue dress I left on the bed flowing around her legs with every step. She looks beautiful. She always does, but tonight there’s something else about her. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, and her face is bare. I can’t take my eyes off her.
She eyes me suspiciously as she takes the final few steps.The button-down shirt was probably too much.Crossing the distance between us, she places her hand on my chest and trails her fingers down the buttons. “You look good, Daddy.”
“You look incredible, baby.” I place a soft kiss against her forehead and lace my fingers with hers.
As I lead her to the dining room, she slows slightly at the sight of the romantic meal I’ve set up. “What’s the occasion?”
“You,” I answer the half-truth.
We both sample the food on our plates, but I can’t bring myself to actually eat. My stomach is a ball of knots. I try to keep still, but my hand won’t stop twitching. I’m fidgeting, and I never fidget.
Ten years ago, I had a ring in my pocket and a future planned out for us. Then I set my world on fire, and I lost her. Lost everything that made me feel alive. And somehow, by some damn miracle, I got her back. Now, I just have to find the words to keep her.
Absently, she traces the rim of her wine glass, watching the rain trail down the window. “You’re awfully quiet,” she says, breaking the awkward silence.
