The office door is open, and I can see Adrian standing rigid behind his desk, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
Diane stands too close to him, her bleached blonde hair catching the light, her too-tight jeans and low-cut top completely inappropriate for a church setting.
“I’m just concerned about my daughter,” Diane purrs, her hand reaching out to touch Adrian’s chest. “She’s so young, so impressionable. Men in positions of power can easily take advantage of girls like her.”
Adrian’s voice is ice. “Miss Davis has been nothing but professional during her time here.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Diane’s laugh is sharp, cruel. “But Charlie’s always been…damaged. Messy. The kind of girl who causes problems without meaning to.” She steps closer, her voice dropping to something that makes my skin crawl. “But maybe we could work out an arrangement. You and me. I could make sure Charlie doesn’t cause any more trouble. For the right price, of course.”
My breath stops. She’s propositioning him. My mother is offering herself to Adrian in exchange for money and silence.
Adrian’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “Get out.”
“Come on, Father.” Diane’s fingers trail down his chest. “I know what Charlie’s been doing with you. With all of you. She’s not exactly subtle. But I could be discreet. We could have our own little arrangement, and Charlie never needs to know?—”
“I said get out.” Adrian’s voice drops to something dangerous. It reminds me of the underground boxer he used to be. “Now.”
Diane’s face twists with rage. “You self-righteous bastard. You think you’re so much better than me? You’re fucking my daughter! All three of you are! Taking turns with her like she’s some kind of?—”
“That’s enough.” Marcus appears in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes burning with barely contained violence. “You heard Father Cross. Leave.”
Diane looks between them, her expression shifting from rage to calculation. “Fine. But you haven’t heard the last from me. I know your schedules. I know when you’re all together. I know everything.” She pushes past Marcus, her shoulder deliberately bumping his. “Enjoy her while you can. Girls like Charlie don’t stay. They leave, just like I did. It’s in our blood.”
The silence after she leaves is deafening.
I stand frozen in the hallway, my hands pressed against my mouth to keep from making a sound.
Adrian’s shoulders are rigid with tension, and Marcus looks like he wants to put his fist through a wall.
I flee before they can see me, my vision blurring with tears I can’t hold back anymore.
I run through the church, past the sanctuary where I first stole that money, past the confessional where Marcus claimed me, past everything that’s become both sanctuary and prison.
The choir loft is empty when I reach it, the late afternoon light streaming through the stained glass windows painting everything in jewel tones.
I sink onto the piano bench, my body shaking with sobs I’ve been holding back for hours.
The sound of footsteps on the spiral staircase makes me look up. Elijah appears at the top, his golden hair catching the light, his crystalline blue eyes immediately finding mine.
He doesn’t speak, just crosses to the piano and sits beside me, his fingers finding the keys.
The music that flows from his hands is dark and melancholic, matching the devastation in my chest.
I watch his fingers dance across the keys, remembering how those same fingers have traced patterns on my skin, how his touch can be both gentle and demanding.
“I told the Bishop I’d leave,” I say finally, my voice raw. “I confessed everything. Well, not everything. But enough. I told him I have feelings for all of you, that it’s entirely one-sided, that you’ve been nothing but professional.”
Elijah’s hands still on the keys. His gaze fills with pain and fury as he turns to face me. “You did what?”
“I offered to leave St. Michael’s voluntarily. To remove myself as a distraction.” My throat tightens. “It’s the only way to protect you.”
“Protect us?” His voice rises, his usual calm composure cracking. “Charlie, do you really think leaving will solve anything? Do you honestly believe we’ll just let you go?”
“I don’t know what else to do.” The words come out broken. “The weight of everyone’s secrets, everyone’s sacrifices, it’s crushing me. My mother just propositioned Adrian. The Bishop knows something. Sister Margaret is documenting everything. I’m the problem, Elijah.I’m the thing that’s destroying all of you. Besides, you guys even suggested the same thing.”
He pulls me onto the piano bench beside him, his body warm against mine despite the careful distance we’re supposed to maintain.
His hand hovers near my face, and I can see him fighting the urge to touch me, to pull me close.
