Page 110 of At First Flight
I just stare at her. “Whatareyou doing here?”
She swallows. “I’m building a case.”
My stomach drops.
“Against him.”
The air rushes out of my lungs so fast I blink.
“Against your husband?”
“Soon-to-be ex-husband,” she corrects.
I can’t speak. I can barely move.
“While I’ve been in hiding, I started working with a lawyer. And a few other women. There are… God, there are a lot. And some of it’s been happening for years. Mysterious deaths, murders, blackmail. Under everyone’s noses.” Her voice cracks. “Under mine.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Sharp. Crushing. Unrelenting. My stomach turns, bile rising at the back of my throat as her voice continues to echo in my head. Murders. Blackmail. Deaths. And Prescott.MyPrescott, or the version I’d convinced myself existed, had his hands in all of it. No wonder the Hoolihan family worked so hard to cover their tracks in the press.
The edges of the room begin to blur, the sounds dulling like cotton has been stuffed into my ears. The floor doesn’t shift, but it feels like it should. Because everything beneath me suddenly feels unstable, like my foundation is cracking wide open.
“You disappeared.” My voice is stiff, hollow. Like it's not even mine. “I know it was you who sent the text. Right?”
I don’t even know what answer I’m hoping for. Maybe that she didn’t. Maybe that this was all just a coincidence, a misunderstanding, a terrible dream.
But her response is a whisper, a confession weighted with guilt and fear. “I did. Because I needed to believe I couldcatch him in the act. I needed to see how far he would take it with you. How much do you know about his plans for you?”
I recall the conversation I had one early morning with Dean when he showed me all the evidence against Prescott that his PI had gathered. The plan to murder me and retain control of my patents, only to have them removed. I remember the anger I felt and how I took it out on Dean at first until my brother stepped in and set me straight. All of my anger and fear needed to be directed at Prescott.
But the fact that Marin knew all of this unleashes a new kind of emotion.
My throat burns. Not just with the rise of tears, but with shame. I swallow hard, trying to breathe, but my chest is tight, and my lungs feel compressed. Like the air itself is suffocating.
Dean warned me. The truth from home feels far more removed than hearing the truth from someone in Prescott’s circle.
My fingers tremble as I press them to my mouth, as if that might stop the flood of panic crashing over me. I can barely speak, barely move.
And now? Now I finally see the truth and the scale of it. The way I was a pawn in something far darker than I ever imagined.
The worst part? I can’t stop wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t run. If Dean hadn’t found me. If I’d stayed one more week. One more day.
Would I still be here?
Would I still be me?
I drop onto the nearest chair, knees buckling beneath the weight of realization. My palms are clammy. Cold. My heart’sthudding too fast, like it’s trying to outrun the truth I can’t unhear.
“I didn’t know,” I murmur, voice barely audible. “I didn’t know any of it until recently.”
And now, for the first time, I understand just how much danger I’ve been in. Just how much he’s been protecting me from. And I don’t know if I’m more terrified of Prescott… or of the shame curling inside me for trusting the wrong person.
“I didn’t come to make it okay. I came to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let him take it so far. But I’m not letting him do this to anyone else.”
I look at her then. Really look. At the way her hands are shaking slightly. The way her voice, for all its practiced calm, keeps trembling around the edges.
And suddenly, I don’t see the woman who betrayed me. I see the one who was used just like I was. Just differently.
“I used to think I was strong,” I murmur. “Back when I had a plan. A lab. A career. But it wasn’t until after I left him that I realized strength isn’t about keeping your life neat.”
