“Lucia.”
“Marco called.”
A pause. “What now?”
“He wants me to go to a gala,” I say, and the word feels stupid in my mouth. Like a joke. Like a parody of real problems. “With him. On his arm. For optics.”
My lawyer exhales. “Christ.”
“Can he make me?” I demand.
Technically.Practically.Legally. I can hear all the categories forming before he speaks.
“No,” he says carefully. “He cannot force you to attend a social event.”
Relief flashes through me so fast, my knees almost give out.
“But,” he adds immediately, and my relief dies, “he can frame your refusal as hostility. As unwillingness to co-parent. Especially if he claims it was related to a family-oriented charity thing. Public. Respectable. ‘Healthy environment.’”
My nails dig into my palm. “So, what? I’m supposed to go play happy family with my abuser?”
Silence. He doesn’t deny the word. That’s something.
“Lucia,” he says quietly, “I’m telling you what a judge will see. Not what’s fair.”
Fair.
I almost laugh.
“What should I do?”
“Go,” he says. “Go, keep it short, keep it calm. Do not make a scene. Do not engage. Let him look like the reasonable party, and make sure you look… cooperative.”
Cooperative.
Like I’m a dog.
My stomach churns. “I can’t leave Nico,” I say automatically.
“You don’t have to,” he replies. “Arrange childcare. A sitter. Someone you trust.”
Someone I trust. I stare at the stained carpet. There are three people in the world I trust. One is three years old. One is my sister, who lives too far away. And one is… a man I haven’t seen in three years who could end my life with a phone call if he decides to.
I swallow hard. “Fine,” I whisper.
“Lucia,” my lawyer starts, “I know this feels…”
Humiliating. Terrifying. Like the cage is closing again.
“But it’s temporary,” he finishes.
Temporaryis another word people use when they don’t want to admit you’re trapped.
“I’ll go,” I say again, because if I don’t keep saying it, I’ll fall apart.
“Good,” he says, relief and resignation braided together in his voice. “Text me the details. Time, location. And keep records. Everything.”
Records. Yes. Paper is how you fight men like Marco. Paper and patience and pretending you don’t care until the moment you can use evidence against them.
