My brain snags. Stutters. Trips over itself trying to make sense of it.
My mouth goes dry. “What… fate?” I whisper, barely conscious of speaking.
He smirks. “Dead. It’s the least she deserved, that backstabbing cunt.”
For a second, the world stops. A ringing fills my ears—high, shrill, and endless. I thought I’d feel nothing when this day came. Itoldmyself I would feel nothing.But something hot and ugly claws up through my chest—grief, disbelief, fury, all tangled into something nameless and feral.
I look for Matt—stupidly, desperately—searching for any sign of him stepping in, shutting this down, reminding me I’m not alone in a room full of men who suddenly hate the sight of me.
But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.
Just watches, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
A crack echoes through my chest. My hands tremble, fists clenching to keep me upright as the word dead ricochets through me.
Jonathan steps forward, voice tight. “Lily… please understand, we have to be seen to be dealing with this.”
Helen lifts a hand, eyes glossy, a tremor in her lips. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. But she doesn’t step forward, and she doesn’t reach for me. An empty apology is not enough to fill the gaping void of abandonment that’s sinking its teeth into me in this icy penthouse.
With a squeeze of my hand, Cora steps forward again. Her shoulders are back, chin tilted up, and if looks could kill, Ciaran would be six feet under.
“I’m telling you she’s innocent, she doesn’t deserve this. You can’t punish her for something you can’t even prove she did. Those emails don’t match the girl we know, and if you’d juststopfor a second, you’d see you’re making a mistake.”
Her frustration falls on deaf ears. It does nothing to sway Ciaran or Brennan. Matt stays silent in the corner, and I know that image will haunt me, lingering in the shadows of my mind at the worst possible moments.
“You think that matters? There’s enough proof for half the men to be demanding her head on a spike, and if it was up to me, that’s exactly what would be happening.” Ciaran’s words are cold and merciless in a way I’ve never heard aimed at me before.
The room spins around me, my lungs tighten, and my heart hammers like a drum I can’t escape. Betrayal so thick it’s nearly tangible presses down on me. Everyone I called family—the people I trusted, who I believed had my back—turns their gaze away or watches silently as I am condemned. Even Matt.My Matty.My throat burns as I swallow a sob.
And then the blow I cannot even begin to process lands.
Brennan’s voice drops, low and venomous. “We’ve seen the emails, the photos, and your real birth certificate. So cut the crap before we change our minds about letting you walk out of here alive.”
The words hit like a physical strike and my knees nearly buckle. The penthouse walls close in, suffocating, shrinking. My heartbeat thrashes so loud I barely hear my own breath.
My eyes snap to Matt. He’s only a few feet away—close enough that I could reach for him—but he stays silent. Still. Unmoving. Present and yet completely absent.
My love, my hope, my anchor… doing nothing.
The pain of it sears deeper than anything Brennan could ever say.
“I… I don’t understand,” I manage, voice torn apart. “What emails? What photos? Photos ofwho? My birth certificate has been blank my whole life. There’s nothing—there’s no one—”
Cora steps forward, eyes wide, trembling. “Lily… it doesn't matter—”
Jonathan cuts in, calm in a way that makes my chest ache even more. “Lily, please. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Weknow. All that’s left is damage control.”
“Damage control?” I echo, horror tightening my throat. “Youknow? Know what?”
“We know about your mother. Recruiting girls. Feeding the ring,” Ciaran bites out. “And your father? Yourrealfather? He’s tied to them, too. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
I stagger again, the floor tilting beneath me.Father? What father? I don’t even know who he is!My hands shake as if trying to hold onto something solid, but there’s nothing. The ground has disappeared. Whatever was holding me up fractures. Cracks. And suddenly I’m standing alone in the wreckage.
“You’re tied to them at best and one of them at worst,” Brennan sneers, each word dripping venom. “No matter how you dress it up, that’s what you are. After tonight, you’re nothing. This exile? It’s mercy, princess. More than you deserve.”
Tears burn hot at the corners of my eyes. My throat aches from holding in a scream. Every cold stare, every folded arm, every silent witness around the room becomes a blade slicing deeper. And Matt—God, Matt—just watches as ugly accusations are tossed my way.
The emails. The photos—Jen beside a man, that same man holding me in a hospital room, hours old. My mother. My father. Their ties to the trafficking ring.
