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Brock Rhodes: I wanted you before Veil. I handled it wrong. I broke your trust, and I'm sorry. If you want me gone, say it and I'm gone. If you're willing to talk, I'm here.

He wants me. Not Ivy. Not some anonymous woman in a mask. Me. And I'm furious. Because wanting me doesn't excuse what he did. It doesn't restore what he took from me. It doesn't erase the fact that he walked into that hotel room knowing exactly who I was while I had no idea who he was.

I set the phone down on the nightstand and press my palms against my face. I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm terrified.

But I'm also—God help me—I can't stop wanting him.

I've wanted him since the first parent-teacher conference last year, when Kayla was in first grade. I've wanted him through every polite, professional interaction over more than a year. I've wanted him so badly I signed up for an anonymous hookup app just to get him out of my system.

And it didn't work.

It made everything worse.

Because now I know what it feels like to be touched by him. To be wanted by him. To surrender to him and feel safe doing it.

And I don't know if I can walk away from that.

I call Cora at seven in the morning.

She answers on the third ring, her voice groggy. "Megan? What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you," I say. "Can you come over?"

There's a pause. Then, more alert: "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Cora arrives with two coffees from the shop down the street and a look of concern that makes my chest tighten.

"Okay," she says, setting the coffees on my kitchen table and sitting down across from me. "What happened?"

I take a breath.

And then I tell her everything.

The Veil app. The masked encounters. The clues I found. The confrontation at the hotel last night.

Brock Rhodes.

Cora's eyes go wide. Then wider.

"Wait," she says when I finish. "Brock Rhodes. Kayla's father. The lawyer you've had feelings for since last year."

"Yes."

"He was Vanguard the whole time."

"Yes."

"And he knew it was you before he ever showed up at that hotel room."

"Yes."

Cora sits back in her chair, staring at me.

"Megan," she says slowly. "That's a huge mess."

"I know."

"If anyone at school finds out, there could be complaints. Accusations that you're showing favoritism to Kayla or that you seduced a parent. Even if the district doesn't fire you outright, you could face scrutiny. Your reputation—" She stops, watching me carefully. "This is your life. Your career. What do you want?"