Page 124 of Severed Rivalry
Sariah
Unknown: You’ll pay for what you did.
Unknown: How do you live with yourself, you cunt?
Unknown: I bet you think you’re so smart.
Yet another text comes in from the unknown numbers. I screenshot each and block them, marking as spam. Not that it does any good. My carrier doesn’t do a thing to prevent or punish.
They’ve come in steadily since the FBI raid took down the ring of sex purveyors.
Connect2Coach went down the very next day since there was nothing left to lose. My name and image were made public. My job was up. I wouldn’t work for people using the app for that purpose, especially when it was advertised as a safe place for troubled youth.
That night, I created a splash page that took over the main web site of Connect2Coach with the names, photos, and crimes of company leadership. Exposing them was satisfying, but risky.
I can only assume these messages are from them. No one in the wider net would know it was me, unless they’re tech gurus. And gurus would’ve covered their digital tracks much better.
I know the men. They’re harmless. To me, at least. To a vulnerable teen, I’d never use those words, but to a grown woman who can fish through their browser history, it’s accurate.
So much so that I haven’t told Cian about the messages. I should though. It slips my mind when he touches me or kisses me or smiles that knowing smile. Or says things about making babies or claiming my daughter as his own.
When we return from Rosie’s tonight, I will. In fact, I have an alarm set on my phone. It’s been more than a week since she came home to Cian’s house. I’ve tried to convince her to stay one more night, to be here in the morning for Renée’s birthday breakfast, but she insists that’s a mother-daughter moment and she’ll meet us for dinner.
I understand. And getting back to normal—or this new normal—is good, but it’s been so nice having my whole family under one roof. Randy’s absence is noticeable lately, though. He was the strong silent type, but something about his presence was so calming and easy. I wish he could meet Ci. I wish he knew Renée and the girl-woman she’s becoming.
She’s at that age where she’s too old to be a girl, but not yet a woman. I guess in biblical times she’d already be married off and bearing children, but she’s definitely too young for that. I hate the phraseyoung lady. It’s condescending and weird. So I’m going with girl-woman, even though it’s atrocious, until I find something more appropriate.
Rosie has been the picture of health since her arrival here. The wound gives her phantom pains, and she grimaces when twisting, but when she takes her prescription regularly, there’s practically a bounce in her step. That said, I see a struggle in her that I haven’t noticed before.
And going home means she’ll be alone in it. Alone and grappling with some unknown thing. And to make it worse, I’m as happy as I’ve ever been. Her stress is far more conspicuous in that light.
She doesn’t seem concerned at all about the fact that someone was in her house. Twice. I press, but she reveals nothing, and obviously, there’s something to reveal.
But she insists, and far be it from me to try overriding her feelings when she knows her own mind. I’d be hellbent for leather if someone did that to me. Especially someone I love and trust.
Renée is sad to see her RoRo go home too. Twice she’s heard about seizures and hospital visits in the last month. Twice she’s been overwhelmed because Rosie is her person. Twice I’ve worried, not simply for myself with what’s happened with Rosie, but for my daughter. That cuts deep.
My days are filled with searching for a job, applying in earnest to open positions, and hearing absolutely nothing in return. Name recognition is there. If nothing else, the FBI proved I understand cyber security, can ethically hack and penetration test with the best of them. It also proved I’m trouble with a capital T for a company that isn’t one hundred percent above board.
Apparently, no one wants an employee who might create waves.
I’ve been without income for more than a week, and while I’ve been smart and saved where I could, I’m still a single mom——of a teenager no less—with expenses and no paycheck.
I wish my feet were prettier. Okay, not really. I can’t take down pervs just to feed their fetishes, but easy money sounds great when summer is almost here and I have a daughter coming into her makeup and hair era.
Ci tells me not to worry, but that’s easy for him to say. That’s unfair. It’s not easy, but the man whose contingencies have contingencies, who just found out he was being stolen from and is owed substantial backpay, seems content with our current situation.
I’m out on the terrace that dominates his back yard. A stone wall bounds the area. A row of evergreens does the rest. They provide privacy and seclusion, but by nature and not huge wooden slats.
It doesn’t mean no one can walk around from the side of the house. Ci’s mentioned his father has since I’ve been here. I slept right through that. He says Liam shows up on occasion as well.
But, for now, it’s just me. It’s me and the wind that pushes through the green spring leaves, cooling the warm sun on my skin. When the door to the terrace opens, I look up to Cian coming my way.
He takes the seat next to me and extends his palm for mine. “What do you need from me for tomorrow?”
I have everything ready. “Nothing. It’s all taken care of.”
“Gotcha. But that wasn’t what I was asking. I’m asking whatyouneed from me. Do you need one-on-one time? Do you need me to hang back? How do I love you tomorrow to make it the best day for you and Renée?”
