Years of her accusations and tantrums had taught me not to fight, not to flinch or block her attack, and to not say a word.
It would only make it worse.
If I just let it happen, it would hurt, but it would be over.
If I did anything else, she would start spinning a story about how terrible I was and how I needed rehab for an addiction I didn't have. She would present herself as the struggling single mom and me as the selfish bitch who took advantage of her love.
I waited for the inevitable slap, but it didn't come.
I opened my eyes to see my mother's hand frozen mid-air with Darius's hand gripping her wrist.
His fingers dug into her skin hard enough to leave marks. The other men he was talking to— the ones who had called him uncle—stood between us and the media.
A few people looked over, but we were relatively well shielded.
"Touch her again," Darius said, his voice deadly calm, "and I'll break every bone in your hand."
Calmly, Darius then proceeded to recite a long line of numbers.
"What—" my mother sputtered as she ripped her hand out of his grip.
"The account number that you have me send your bribes to in the Cayman Islands. I wonder if you think Senator Dillings would be interested in that number? He is the head of a committee that oversees ethics, correct? Or perhaps he would like the Swiss account you funnel money into from some less than reputable oil companies overseas."
My mother's mouth shut, her fake smile falling away for a twisted, ugly sneer.
"Or do you think it would be better to go straight to the FBI director? I believe he is standing over there." Darius pointed to aman in a fitted suit, laughing along with a few others, a woman in a dazzling sheath dress on his arm.
"You wouldn't," my mother said, then smiled and waved to someone who called her name. When she turned back to Darius, her face showed only contempt. "You cannot hurt me without dragging yourself down as well. I don't know what my daughter has promised you, but?—"
Darius lifted his hands, cutting off her words, and then took a key fob out of his pocket. When he pressed the button, I felt a slight vibration against my collarbones.
My heart raced as my mother turned back to me, and I could see, in the reflection of her glasses, the red glow hidden in the white sparkle of the diamonds.
It was the trigger switch. He literally held my life in his hands. My stomach rolled, but I said nothing. The men surrounding us looked uncomfortable. One of them even gave me a sympathetic look, but they did nothing. They said nothing.
I already knew by the way the one reacted when his wife tried to touch it that they knew what it was and why it was around my neck.
Darius didn't introduce us, not because he was being rude, but because they already knew who I was, and I wasn't supposed to know them.
"You're bluffing," my mother said, not even looking at me. "You wouldn't press that button here. You would die too."
"No, I wouldn't," Darius said, rolling his eyes. Then his hand went to the small of my back. His palm pressed flat and possessive against my spine, fingers splaying wide like he was branding me through the silk.
I didn't know if it was to show ownership, confidence, or maybe to offer me some semblance of strength. His warm touch just left me feeling cold and empty inside.
"The explosives in the necklace are tiny and aimed just right so that they will blow your daughter's head clean off. The most harm that would happen to me is that I'd have to get my suit dry cleaned."
My breath caught in my throat, and my hands trembled, but I refused to say a thing.
I pulled the pashmina around me tighter, knowing that it wouldn't do a thing for the chill, but maybe it would comfort me a little.
A single tear slipped down my face as the fear clawed its way up my neck, choking me, making it impossible to speak or even breathe.
"Senator, you seem to have misunderstood our situation. Allow me to provide some clarity. Your daughter is here at my behest. She knows that if she disobeys me, she dies. Just like if you forget your place, she dies. And if she dies, then I will simply move on to the next pressure point."
Mother opened her mouth and then closed it a few times in a vain search for some comeback.
Darius took another step forward, hovering over her, the threat clear. His hand never left my body, remaining on my lower back.
