Her eyes narrow. “It didn’t have to be like this. I still care about you, Lila. I never stopped.” There’s a pause, as if she has to dig deep to continue this farce of a speech. “I can still help you, you know. I can offer you a seat at the table you were always meant to sit at. I can offer you a job here. Whatever you want.”
“Like you offered one to Jade.” Darkness clouds my vision, overtaking my thoughts. A job at Havenport could change my life. It would mean being seen again, in a real way. It would mean helping people. Students. My dad—he could have another nurse, maybe. Better care. I could help support Mom. I could breathe for a moment.
But at what cost? Who will I be if I say yes?
She watches me silently. Then something in her expression changes. The smile that forms is only in her eyes, invisible to anyone who doesn’t know her as well as I do. “Or how about your book? What was it—fantasy, right? No, dystopian.”
My heart sinks, and my breath is too loud in my ears. Everything around me disappears. “How do you know about that?” No one knows. No one except Mom, Nora, and…the agent.
Ralston watches the lightning behind my eyes as if it’s just a bit of rain. “You still want to publish it, don’t you? A single phone call, and we can reverse that agent’s decision.”
“It was you.” Chills line my skin. “You stopped her from signing me.” It’s almost too painful to confirm.
Her face warms, pure glee radiating from her, then in an instant it’s gone, replaced with something nonchalant. “I had lunch with a friend. Your name might’ve come up. She might’ve asked my opinion on you—knowing you’d attended Havenport—and I’m sorry to say I couldn’t give a glowing review.” The weight of what she just revealed swells to fill the room until there’s no space left. I should’ve known. I should’ve known the agent wouldn’t have asked to meet in person only to turn me down a week later. She must’ve met with Ralston in that time. How many other instances has Ralston had to keep herself hidden while pressing a finger on the scales of my life? Her fingerprints remain on me, even to this day. Her claws are still embedded in my skin fifteen years after I walked away.
“You’re the reason she changed her mind.” I’m sure of it now, but the gleam in her eye further confirms it.
“And I can be the reason she changes it again.”
She was never going to let me succeed without her.
“I don’t need a seat at any table you’re a part of.” I can’t catch my breath. She’s the root of so much pain. I swallow, closing my eyes and gathering myself, embarrassed I considered her offer for even the tiniest second. “I built a new table. On my own. One where only truth is welcome.”
Her head tilts with curiosity, as if she’s trying and struggling to understand how anyone could say no to her. “What can I give you, then? What do you need from me to understand I never wanted any of this?”
“Don’t you get it?” I glare at her in disbelief, the ink of my anger soaking and staining all of my pain. “There is nothing you can give me that I would ever want. You used to be everything to me, represent everything I wanted to be. But now I see you for what you are—a fraud. An empty shell of a person. Someone whose only love is money and power and notoriety,who knows nothing of kindness and integrity. You’re everything I’m terrified to become.”
Her gaze darts around my face, searching for weakness. She won’t find any. Not now. “I know you think that’s true, but it’s not. I am not a monster. I simply understand that there are ways to get places in this world, and those ways aren’t always pretty. Lila, I’m the dream of a long line of women whose stories were erased. Who will never be remembered. Who dreamed of living with what I’ve fought for, what I’ve made space for in this world. And my legacy will be everything I leave behind—forallwomen, yourself included.”
“There’s a way to do that, to be that, without hurting people. Without being everything we’ve spent centuries running from. You didn’t need to become what we hate about men in order to save women. There are other ways. Therehasto be.” My vision blurs as I think back over what I’ve said and just how much I mean it, her face turning into a watercolor portrait until I find focus again. When I do, her eyes are locked on mine. “I understand you now, in a way I never did before.”
“Do tell,” she says, her voice low.
“You chose us—you…you chose womenbecauseyou know how the world works. And you used everything you claim to be fighting against, against us.” Suddenly, it’s clearer to me than it’s ever been. “You knew we’d be easy targets. You could manipulate us and take advantage of us and lie all you wanted. Because who would believe us?” I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. I refuse to blink, refuse to let them fall. “I never made you the villain, Althea. You did that all on your own.”
For the first time, the mask slips. For maybe the first time ever, I clock the small fracture, the sliver of doubt peeking through. Just as quickly, she smooths it away with a grim expression. “Think. Before you become the woman who criestraitorrather than just moving on, building something better.Ruining me does nothing. Not for you, and not for the rest of the world. Go out and do better, if you think you can. You’ve wasted years focused on me. I dare you to become everything you dreamed I could be without hurting a single person, Lila. Trust me, nothing would make me happier.”
And then, without another word, she moves past me, and she’s gone. The door clicks softly behind her, and I’m alone with the pounding in my ears and the sunlight glaring through the window.
And there’s the silence—only the hum of my phone in the small room. A fierce, continuing promise.
I am not alone.
I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket, watching the red lines dance across the black screen as it picks up the sound of the phone’s speaker scraping the fabric. I tap the red button to end the recording.
We are not alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Back on the site, my next post is a call to action.
I wish I had the words to say how much your stories have meant to me, how much your bravery has changed me. Thank you to everyone who has spoken out and spoken up. Thank you for reminding us that we aren’t alone. I hope that we can use this site to bring much-needed change to the world of academia, and I’d like to take the next step toward slaying my own personal dragon. If Professor Althea Ralston ever used your words in her work—without credit, without permission—or if she harmed you in some other way, I’m collecting evidence. If you’re ready, send it to me. It doesn’t need to be definitive. It doesn’t need to make you look perfect. Documents. Text messages. Emails. Something scrawled in a notebook. I understand you may be scared—I am too—but the truth is that our voices are strongest together. I want to show the world the shape of what has been taken from us. I want todestroy her mask. If you want to help, please email anything you have to [email protected].
I post it, watching as it is quickly swallowed up by the new posts. Maybe no one will see it. Maybe no one is spending time reading these anyway. Maybe most people just want to get their own truths off their chest.
If anything, I’m hoping to hear from a few brave souls. One or two, even. Five would be a dream. Ten feels impossible. I still haven’t gotten a response from the women I emailed, and when I check their social media pages, none of them have shared it, so I don’t dare email them again.
I’m not sure I need them, if I can get others involved.
