And then I saw him.
Todd stood near the water fountain, talking to a man in a suit who must have been his lawyer. He looked respectable. That was the worst part. He'd cleaned up well, shaved, put on clothes that made him look like a concerned stepfather instead of the monster I knew him to be. His smile was practiced and charming, the same smile he'd used on my mother all those years ago, the one that hid everything rotten underneath.
Then his eyes found me across the hallway.
The smile didn't change. Not exactly. But something behind it shifted, turned cold and calculating, and my skin started to crawl.
He said something to his lawyer, then walked toward us. Slow. Deliberate. Like a predator who knew his prey couldn't run.
"Riley." His voice was warm, pleasant, pitched for the people around us to hear. "Looking domesticated today."
I couldn’t speak. My throat sealed shut, seventeen again, trapped in the kitchen doorway while he smiled at my mother and I memorized the colors of the bruises under her sleeves—yellow fading to green, green turning purple—counting them like that might keep them from spreading
His gaze slid to Liam, sizing him up the way he sized up everyone. Looking for weaknesses. Finding, apparently, nothing worth his time. "New husband. Convenient timing."
Liam's hand pressed against the small of my back. Warm. Unmoving. The kind of contact that didn’t ask permission or demand anything—just stayed.
"We should get to the courtroom," His voice was calm, but there was steel underneath it. A warning.
Todd's smile widened. "Of course. Wouldn't want to be late." He leaned closer, just enough that only I could hear. "See you in there, sweetheart."
The word landed like a slap.Sweetheart. The same thing he'd called me when I was a teenager, when the bruises were fresh and my mother was making excuses and I was counting the days until I turned eighteen—until I could get out, and never look back.
His lawyer pulled him away before anyone could respond, but his smirk lingered in the air like cigarette smoke. Like something that would take days to wash out of my clothes.
I realized I was shaking.
I also realized Liam hadn't moved his hand. Of course he had. He always noticed the small things, the shifts you never named. And he didn’t pull away, like he’d already decided this was something to hold steady until I could.
We found a bench down the hallway, far enough from Todd and his lawyer that they couldn't hear us. I sat down heavily, my legs unsteady beneath me. Liam lowered himself beside me, close but not crowding.
"That's him?" he asked quietly. "Todd?"
I nodded. Didn't trust my voice.
Liam was quiet for a moment, his jaw tight. When he spoke again, his voice was low, controlled. "The way you froze up back there. He's done more than fight for custody, hasn't he?"
I dropped my gaze to my hands, clasped tight in my lap. The ring flashed under the fluorescent lights—too bright, too new. Proof. Protection. Paper-thin armor I kept twisting like it might remind me why we were here.
The words stuck in my throat. I'd never said them out loud to anyone outside a police report. Never had to explain what Todd was, what he'd done, the years I'd spent learning to survive him.
Liam deserved to know. He was in this now. But saying it meant letting him see the parts of me I kept buried—the scared sixteen-year-old who'd counted bruises, who'd learned to makeherself small, who'd failed to protect her mother and had spent every day since trying to make up for it.
What if he looked at me differently after? What if he saw damage instead of strength? What if?—
I forced the thought down. Mia needed me to be strong. Mia needed me to do this.
"He hurt us." My throat tightened, the words catching, and I had to stop. Breathe. Try again. "Me and my mom. When I was a teenager."
My voice came out quieter than I meant it to, thinner, like speaking any louder might crack something I couldn't afford to break. I kept my eyes on the floor, tracing the pattern in the linoleum—anything to avoid seeing his face change.
"I got out when I turned eighteen." The words steadied, just barely. Practice. Repetition. Facts I could control. "Mia didn't have that option."
Liam didn't say anything. Didn't offer empty comfort or pointless platitudes. He just sat there, solid and present, his hand still warm against my back.
"I'm not going to let him take her." My voice didn’t rise. "I don't care what I have to do."
"I know." His voice was steady. Certain. "And you're not doing it alone."
