Page 179 of What's Left of Us

He lifts a shoulder. “Everybody needs someone. And you don’t exactly have a long line of people waiting out the door.”

Well, fuck you too.“I guess that’s what happens when you agree to help the FBI arrest your father. People aren’t keen on trusting you after that.”

If he disagrees, he doesn’t say. “Why exactly didn’t you want me to tell him that you were speaking to me? Wouldn’t it have made things easier for you two?”

There are some things I chose not to share with the federal agent in front of me. Like the meetings I had with my lawyer and Stefan Mangino. That would lead to way more questions than I was willing to answer. “For the same reason you wanted to make it look like I was guilty coming in here today. We need to make it believable.”

“How long do you plan on pretending?”

I stare down at the table. “Until it’s safe not to,” I finally answer.

“I promised you our safety.”

It’s not his promise I need though.

It’s Mangino’s.

“So, what now?” I ask him.

“Now, we wait.”

“That’s what we’ve been doing. Why did you want me here if there was nothing left to say?”

He smiles and stands. “Because there was someone I thought you might like to see.”

Knocking twice on the opposite door, he waits until it cracks open.

I stand, gaping at the woman I haven’t seen in years. She looks so…different. Her hair is white. Longer. Her wrinkles are more pronounced. But her smile is just as warm. “Mrs. Ricci?”

She walks in. “Hi, sweet girl.”

I turn to Powell. “This is the witness,” I realize, blinking in awe. Mrs. Ricci went to the FBI to tell them what she knew.

She gives me a hug, squeezing me tightly against her. In my ear, she whispers, “I told you I was going to do right with my freedom.”

I peel back, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I thought something bad happened to you.”

It’s Powell who says, “When we promise protection, we stand by it. Remember that, Georgia.”

Paying him no mind, I give my former housekeeper a quick once-over. “You look good. Really good.”

She brushes my face, letting her eyes drift over me. “I wish I could say the same. When was the last time you had a proper meal and a full night’s sleep?”

Her bluntness is welcoming. “It’s been a while. I’ve been a little busy.”

Mrs. Ricci turns to Powell. “Can I have a few minutes with her?”

He dips his chin. “I’ll be outside if you two need me.”

When we’re alone, she takes my hands in hers and studies me with concerned eyes. When her gaze lands on my face, she says, “When you told me it was for love, did you mean it?”

My eyes widen at the question. How does she remember that conversation? It’s been years since we had it. “Why—”

“Answer me.”

I take a deep breath. “At first, no.” Her lips twitch, but they don’t fall like she knows the answer already. “But it grew, just like you said it would. It became…something. Raw, maybe. But something real.”

“Then how did you wind up here?”

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