Page 47 of Clean Point

‘He drugged me.’

My thumb stopped mid-stroke, my body frozen as I reeled from the shock of the confession. My eyes searched her face for any sign of humour, waited for her lips to curve into a playful smile and tell me she was joking. But she didn’t. And my heart shattered.

‘For months, I had no idea. My own father.’ Her words were shaky, like she was recalling a nightmare.

A wave of guttural horror sank deep, goosebumps pebbling along my arms. ‘Will you tell me what happened? Please?’

Her gaze held onto mine, as if she needed me to know, to see, that she was still telling the truth. ‘He spiked my protein shakes. I was injured in the French Open, before Wimbledon. It was doubtful I’d recover in time. But they kept me training, and recovery should’ve been harder, but it wasn’t. I didn’t find out he did it until I got home the night after Wimbledon.’

Her arms wrapped around her body as she shivered from the cool breeze, the scent of the salted sea riding it. I could see the weight that had been freed from her as her shoulders pulled back, her expression more relaxed, but still tinged with the worry that I might not believe her.

I replayed her words over and over, trying to understand what she had endured. She’d set herself on fire, her career on fire, her whole damn life on fire, all to get away from him. Questions tore through me, but they were nothing compared to the fiery rage that had reignited in the pit of my stomach. A flame that burned white hot, as an almost primal instinct clawed at me.

‘How did you find out?’ I asked, needing to know. Needing to know everything. She gnawed on her lower lip and I pressed further. ‘Scottie, help me understand.’

She released a heavy breath. ‘I had just got home from a Wimbledon after party, and overheard Jon and Matteo talking about it in the kitchen. More like fighting about it. And I–’

‘Jon was there?’ I saw red. Of course Jon was there. He was her coach then, he had to know. And even if he didn’t, he had a responsibility to look after her, to keep her safe. Instead, she was taken advantage of. And now, with these fake results being leaked to the press, his empty promises to protect her, it was happening all over again. With veins simmering, I was ready to rip apart the people who had failed her.

And Jon’s name was at the top of my list.

22

Nico

Easier Than Lying – Halsey

‘Nico, wait,’ Scottie called after me, as I stormed through the villa. I ignored her pleas, focused on locating Jon to find out for myself what part he had played. We turned a corner and I almost ran straight into Elena.

‘Do you know where Jon is?’ I asked her with gritted teeth as Scottie’s hands landed on me, one holding onto my shoulder, pulling back, while the other slid into mine, our palms connecting. Her touch calmed my muscles instinctually, but the anger was still boiling within me. They hurt her. He hurt her.

He drugged me. For months, I had no idea. My own father.

Elena eyed me suspiciously, assessing my anger. ‘I think he’s upstairs, in his office,’ she answered, looking uneasily between us.

‘Thanks,’ I said, making my way towards the stairs, my hand slipping free from Scottie’s.

‘What are you doing?’ she shouted after me, but I only increased my pace, trying to get ahead of her. I could barely stand to look at her without breaking down.

All these years, she’d been holding onto this secret? Ruining herself to keep it? While a part of me begged to know more, the dumb, reactive side just wanted to hurt whoever had hurt her.

My heart raced as I pushed my way through the office door, Jon already rising from his chair, eyes wide in surprise at the sight of me. His mouth opened, but before he could get any words out, I delivered a clenched fist to his nose. He fell back against the bookcase; its contents shook and fell around us. Gripping his shoulder with one hand and pressing my forearm into his throat with the other, I glared into his shocked face.

‘How could you let it happen?’

‘What?’ Jon stammered, his face a mix of confusion and fear. His eyes darted from me to Scottie standing in the doorway, her hands clenched at her sides, eyes red-rimmed from crying.

‘How could you let Scottie be drugged?’ I almost choked out her dad’s name. ‘How could you help Matteo do that to her?’

‘I didn’t! I swear!’ He shouted. I glanced at Scottie, and she gave me a small nod that told me he was telling the truth.

‘When?’ I continued to push him for answers, my voice hard and unyielding. ‘When did you find out?’

‘I—’ he stumbled, so I pressed again.

‘When?’

‘The same night Scottie did.’

---