The words sting because they’re true.
Rowan adds, “We’ll cover the facility. We’ll cover her office. We’ll cover anything that makes sense.”
I stop pacing. “What are you going to do?” Rowan asks, and it’s not curiosity. It’s an assessment.
I stare out the hotel window at a city I don’t give a damn about. The lights blurred by the rain. Reflections in glass. A life that suddenly feels miles away from what matters.
“I’m going to end this,” I say.
Rowan’s voice goes low. “Good.”
“It could tank the deal,” I say, because Northwell isn't just my company.
Rowan doesn’t even pause. “We don’t care.”
The words hit hard.We.
And then, in a tone I’ve never heard from Rowan, something rawer, something personal, he adds, “None of us had a good example of what relationships should look like. Of what family is. We thought because we stuck together at school, because we built something together… that was enough.”
My entire body locks up.
“But Lucy,” Rowan says quietly, “she showed us. How she cares for her mother. For her sister. How she cares for you, even when you are an asshole and don’t deserve it.”
The line goes silent for a beat.
And then Rowan says, steady as steel, “We’re behind you. One hundred percent. Calebs on the jet now, headed your way. We’ve got your back.”
The call ends.
For a second, I just stand there.
Phone in my hand.
Heartbeat in my throat.
The weight of what I’ve done pressing down on me like a punishment.
Then I move.
I call Lucy.
Straight to voicemail.
I call again.
Voicemail.
My hands shake as I type out a message.
Me:Lucy. Please. I just spoke to Rowan. I know what my father did. I didn’t touch Simone. I didn’t cheat. I swear to you. I’m coming home. Please tell me where you are.
No response, it stays unread.
I call again.
Voicemail.
My heart squeezes so hard it’s a physical pain.
