Brigham inhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before exhaling slowly. “Michelle,” he said, stretching out my name, disappointment thick in his tone. “He’ll want to know the truth. You shouldn’t keep this from him. They could still confront him and demand money—which would totally blindside him unless you tell him.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I knew that
I knew that keeping Brooks in the dark wasn’t fair, wasn’t right, wasn’t what I should be doing.
But what choice did I have?
If he knew, if he found out the whole truth, he would try to fix it. He would throw everything he had into protecting me, into making sure I was safe.
And he would fail.
Because my father didn’t play fair.
“They were watching me,” I muttered, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “The apartment. My work. They were waiting. They’ve used violence before, Brigs, and I needed Brooks gone. I needed them to think we weren’t more than a hook up, that he wasn’t important to me.”
Saying it out loud made the weight in my chest crush me all over again.
Brigham let out a sharp breath, his fingers twitching like he wanted to punch something but had no target. "Jesus," he muttered, shaking his head. “This is so fucked.”
No shit.
I stood abruptly, pacing
The regret crawled through me, twisting my insides into a tangled mess. Had this been the best choice? The smartest plan? I didn’t know anymore. But it was the one I had made, and there was no undoing it.
I forced air into my lungs, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to move, to do something, to stop the disgust rolling through me from choking me whole. I paced the living room, my hands clenching and unclenching, my stomach knotted so tight it physically hurt.
All of this reminded me of my childhood. Of hiding in corners. Of staying silent. Of making myself small to survive. I could still hear the creak of my father’s boots on the floorboards, the thick tension in the air when he had a bad day, the way I held my breath, waiting, always waiting.
But I wasn’t that girl anymore.
I had goals, I had plans, I had a life I built for myself, piece by goddamn piece. I spoke my mind. I fought for what I wanted. I wasn’t weak.
I wasn’t scared of him.
Was I?
I stopped pacing, my chest rising and falling too fast. The fear had taken over, made me act like prey, but I wasn’t prey. My father and Victor had been picking at my edges, trying to see if I would crack, if I would cave, but they had forgotten one thing.
I had already survived them. And I wasn’t going to let them take anything from me again.
My breath came sharp and steady now, my fists tightening at my sides. “Fuck this.”
Brigham arched a brow, his eyes tracking my every move. “Huh?”
“This isn’t me,” I said, my voice like steel. “I don’t cower. Ever.” The words burned through me, igniting something that had been buried for too long. I was done being careful. Done letting them control me through fear.
“How dare they,” I seethed, my rage boiling over, hot and unforgiving. “How fucking dare they walk into my life and think they can take it from me?” My father had spent my childhood making me feel powerless, but that was his mistake.
I wasn’t that girl anymore. I was on fire now.
Brigham let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. “I think this is a good sign. I like you being angry rather than sad.” His voice softened. “It hit me in the feels seeing you cry.”
I ignored him, my mind already spinning, already calculating.
“I’m going to nail them,” I said, my voice hard and certain.
