And then he was gone. The room stayed frozen.
Then it erupted.
People talking over each other, demanding to know what just happened. Who was that man? Why did he say those things? Is everything okay?
But Mac only saw Rachel. The rest of the room could have been on fire, actually, given Derek's exit, maybe it was, and Mac wouldn't have noticed. She was shaking violently, tears streaming down her face, her hand pressed to her mouth.
"Rachel," Mac said, pulling her into his arms. "Rachel, look at me."
She looked up, her eyes devastated, terrified.
Cole and Ellie appeared beside them, both furious.
"He's going to come after us," Ellie said quietly, tension on her face. "This was just the opening move."
"Let him try," Cole said, his arm around his wife protectively. "We've got nothing to hide. Your treatment was legitimate, documented, and reviewed by independent physicians. He's got nothing."
"He doesn't need facts," Rachel said, her voice small. "He only needs doubt. That's how he works. He plants doubt and lets it grow like poison."
"Emergency team meeting," Cole said, his captain voice fullyengaged. "Tomorrow morning. 11 AM. Everyone. We need a strategy."
"Agreed," Mac said.
Coach Davies appeared, his weathered face grim. "I got it on video. The whole thing. Him showing up uninvited, refusing to leave, making accusations. That's evidence if we need it."
"Good," Cole said. "We might."
The reception was effectively over. Guests were leaving now, offering hugs and concerned looks. Mrs. Henderson stopped by their table, patting Rachel's hand.
"That man is a bully," she said firmly. "And bullies only win if you let them. You hold your head high, dear."
Rachel nodded, tears still streaming.
Sophie appeared with Rachel’s coat. "Come on, I’ll take you home."
But Mac shook his head. "I'm taking her to her place. She shouldn't be alone tonight."
"Good," Sophie said. "That's good." She hugged Rachel tightly. "We're going to fight this. All of us. That bastard picked the wrong town to mess with."
33
Rachel
Rachel woke up in her own apartment with sunlight streaming through her bedroom window and Mr. Darcy sitting on her chest staring at her with obvious judgment.
Mac's arm was wrapped around her waist, his breathing steady and warm against her neck.
They'd come back to her place after the wedding reception last night. Mac had driven her home and refused to leave her alone. He'd stayed, holding her through the night, whispering reassurances until she finally fell asleep.
Mr. Darcy meowed loudly, demanding breakfast and clearly displeased with the strange man in his territory.
"I know," Rachel whispered to the cat. "But I love him. You're going to have to get used to him."
Mr. Darcy's expression suggested he would never get used to him, but he'd tolerate it for the food.
Mac stirred beside her, his arm tightening around her waist. "Morning," he mumbled against her shoulder, his voice rough with sleep.
Mac trailed kisses down her neck, slow and lazy. "I love waking up with you."
