“How can they even—” She cracks mid-sentence. “No. No, I understand. I’ll… Okay.”
She hangs up and clutches the phone in both hands, staring at the blank screen. Her lower lip trembles.
Another buzz.
She checks the notification. Peyton scrolls with her thumb and reads for a few long seconds as despair breaks behind her eyes. Her breath catches, and then she’s gasping, her chest heaving in short, panicked bursts.
I cross the room in three quick strides.
My leg screams in protest, but I ignore the sting, dropping to my knees in front of her. Peyton’s hands are ice-cold when I take them, clammy and shaking. Her pupils are wild, gaze unfocused.
“Peyton, hey. Eyes on me.” I squeeze her fingers hard enough to ground her. “Breathe.”
“I—can’t—” She wheezes. “He—he’s?—”
“Yes, you can. Breathe with me. In through the nose.” I inhale, exaggerating the sound. “Out through the mouth.”
She exhales brokenly.
“Again,” I command. “In for four. Then out for six.”
I keep counting. I force her to match my rhythm, staring her down until the frantic terror in her gaze recedes, replaced by simple misery. Her breathing slows. The color doesn’t return to her face, but she’s taking in oxygen.
“There you go.” I don’t release her hands. They’re warming now, the chill fading under my grip. “Keep going.”
We stay like that for a long moment—me on my knees before her, her hands in mine, the morning sunlight pooling around us. It’s intimate in a way that should feel wrong with a stranger, but doesn’t.
When her breathing steadies, I ask quietly, “What’s happening?”
“My ex.” She spits the word like poison. “He’s a vindictive bastard. I knew he was a controlling prick when I left him at the altar. But I never thought—” She shakes her head, curlstumbling around her face. “Last night, he called. Threatened to ruin my family for embarrassing him. Matt said he’d get me fired, destroy my parents, bankrupt us. I didn’t believe him because who does that? I assumed it was just… his pride talking. Wounded ego. People say things in the heat of the moment, right?”
I nod.
“Not Matt.” Her voice goes flat, hollow. “I just got an email from the HR director at my company. I’m expected in for a meeting when my vacation days end. It’s Sunday. The company is closed. But Matt somehow managed to make them go to the office just to fire me.” Her brown eyes well up. “And he’s served my parents with a lawsuit. The VanCamps paid for the wedding. They wanted it to be a high society event, and now they’re suing us for the reception costs, emotional damages, reputational loss.” She takes another shaky breath. “How are my parents even involved? Why are his lawyers suing them?”
“Is this ex… err… connected?”
“Yeah, his family comes from old money. Matt’s dad golfs with half the judges in Springfield, they have their fingers in a lot of pies. And now my mom and dad risk losing everything because I was too cowardly to break up with him before the wedding.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He’s going to bury us.” Peyton pulls her hands free from mine, pressing them to her face. “Matt has the money, the connections, the lawyers. I don’t even have a job anymore and can’t afford to pay for a decent defense attorney. And my dad needs money to pay for his medications.”
“Is he sick?”
“He has arthritis, but it’s manageable if he can supplement the insurance care with better treatments.” She rubs her forehead. “But not if Matt buries us in legal fees.”
I should say something comforting. Something appropriate about how things will work out, how there’s always a way, how justice will prevail. But I’ve never been good at empty platitudes, and she doesn’t strike me as someone who’d believe them, anyway.
Instead, I say, “I can protect you.”
She drops her hands and looks at me. “What?”
“I’ll take care of the lawsuit.” The words are out before I’ve thought them through, but once they’re in the air, they feel strangely right. The pieces click together in my mind. “Your ex wants to destroy you. Fine. Let him try. But he’s not the only one with power. I can stop him.”
“Why would you do that?” She blinks, tears drying on her cheeks as confusion takes over. “You don’t even know me. Twelve hours ago, you were throwing me out of your lobby.”
A plan crystallizes in my brain. It’s insane. Absolutely insane. And yet?—
