Page 77 of Things We Burn

Brax’s eyes narrowed. “This is not your decision to make.”

Dread flooded my veins. It wasn’t. I didn’t know how all of this worked, but I guessed that Brax had power and access that enabled him to make these kinds of decisions. That was his job, wasn’t it?

“Actually, it is,” Victoria saved me from having to respond. “I’ve already been to visit Mr. Rhodes, and he informed me that Ms. Hart has power of attorney over all decisions pertaining to this case and his representation.”

It was the second time in as many minutes that this woman had caught me off guard. Kane had said that? Something bloomed within me. I didn’t have a ring or any kind of title to prove that I was Kane’s, but he’d found a way to make it clear even from behind bars.

Brax looked like his head was going to explode, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Fine,” he bit out. “But if Kane goes to jail, make it known that it was your choice.” He pointed his finger violently at me.

Then he stormed out.

Everything passed in a blur. Quickly. Far too quickly.

The trial was expedited. Bail was refused.

On account of Kane’s ‘resources’ which included access to a private jet. He was a flight risk.

Victoria fought. Hard. I could see she was a force of nature in the courtroom. The problem was not just the D.A., who was indeed trying to make a name for herself. It was also the judge who had a bone to pick with those in the public eye. He didn’t even try to hide his contempt for Kane.

There was bias there. Even I could see it. Victoria was outraged. She fought the judge tooth and nail on every ruling, to the point of being threatened with removal from the courtroom multiple times.

In our meetings, I could see her trademark cool was being replaced with pure fury. I knew that fury would hit its mark, knew that those responsible would pay.

But that would be after Kane served time, that much was clear. Kane had already been found guilty of aggravated assault.The only victory that Victoria had gained was getting attempted murder off the table.

Gerald making the first move with the knife, stabbing Kane, seemed to do nothing to affect any charges.

“I’ll make it my mission for the rest of my career to end that judge’s tenure,” she said through her teeth as we awaited sentencing.

Gerald didn’t die. That was our one saving grace. He was even out of the hospital. Somehow, he hadn’t been charged either. And he’d been on a press tour not only to besmirch Kane’s name but mine too.

I’d finally found the courage to tell my story. To say who Gerald truly was. That courage was fueled by a desperation to punish Gerald, to wipe the label of ‘victim’ off his smug face and ensure Kane was not painted as the villain.

Kiera and Victoria set up the interview, with a female journalist at a well-respected publication, a New York institution.

I’d been nervous. More nervous than I had been in my entire life. I was almost drenched in sweat by the time they arrived at my apartment—we’d forgone her office on account of the subject matter. But Kiera was there. She was always there. Through the entire process, since I’d called her after I’d walked out of the lawyer’s office that very first day.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she assured me.

“I know. My problem is, I should’ve done this over a decade ago. It was the right thing then. Now…”

“Now it’s the right thing too,” she squeezed my bicep. “You do not place blame on yourself for how you deal with trauma men give you. Absolutely fucking not. You survived. You thrived. You created a powerful life for yourself in order to ensure you didn’t get victimized again.”

Her words struck true. Not just for me, but it made me recognize the similarities between my and Kane’s stories. Yes, the timelines, childhoods might’ve been different, but we’d both been victimized in different ways, both chasing power over our lives to deal with it. Mine with order, his with chaos.

And now his power was being taken away from him.

Again. And there was nothing I could do about it. I was powerless too. So I had to talk.

The interviewer was kind, fair, detached yet not unfriendly. She asked tough questions but ones that needed to be asked.

Once the article came out, the previously wild media circus turned nuclear. People had already swarmed the courthouse, my restaurant, my apartment. The news cycle was never-ending, obsessed with the story of Kane ruining his career because of being tangled up with a chef.

I’d been painted as the villain as, of course, only a woman could be responsible when two men battle.

But the tides changed with the interview. Sure, there were plenty of assholes who said I must’ve been ‘asking for it,’ more who said I was making up lies. But not many. Especially after the interviewer found more of Gerald’s students who had similar if not worse experiences. None of those women worked in kitchens again.

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