Page 114 of Beneath the Surface

He points to the woman in front, who I already know is Sandy from WSNC Oregon; the first person on our approved list of people. She was given the appropriate questions to ask before this event started. See, what most people don’t realize is that the majority of these conferences are nothing more than shows. A play put on for the masses. Unfortunately, for everyone else up on this stage, I’m not planning on following the script.

My stomach flips, nerves racing through me until my hands physically shake, hoping that Olivia doesn’t back out now. She was truthful up until this point, so all I can do is hope that she’ll stand strong with me up here and say what she needs to say.

“Hi, thank you, Senator. Sandy from WSNC. Wow. Alexander, Hi.”

I chuckle, grinning. “Hi, Sandy.”

“I guess we’ll start with... where have you been?”

I lean in, running a hand through my hair. “There’s a lot of story behind the past decade and not enough time to tell you all the details of what went on. I was young and scared, and while I made decisions in my life that I regret, other people’s decisions are what I’d like to talk about today.”

My father tenses as he stands next to me, his nostrils flaring.

“And I’m planning to answer all of your questions. I am,” I continue. “But first, I’d like to invite Olivia Sanderson to join me up here.”

My father’s spine goes rigid, his head snapping toward me.

I cover the microphone with my hand and let loose the firstgenuinesmile since being in his presence. “Careful, Father, your mask is slipping.”

Olivia comes to stand next to me, her hair falling on the side of her face, curtaining her eyes from my father’s view. Her fingers tremble as she grips onto the podium. The press box is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, the tension spiking higher with every second.

Olivia clears her throat. “When I was fifteen years old, Thomas Wells brought me into his home, took me up—”

My father springs forward, ripping the microphone from in front of her face. I push her so she isn’t hit by his elbow, my arm forcefully shoving him back.

Gasps sound from the audience, and I hold back a grin, because if anything, he’s making the situation worse. The innocence card is much harder to play when you try to steal the microphone to silence the girl.

From the corner of my eye, I see his security moving forward, but he seems to collect himself, running his hand down the front of his suit and slicking his hair back before he turns and shakes his head, waving them off.

“Are you kidding me?” he spits. “What the hell do you think this is?”

I smile wide. “This, Father, is justice.”

Olivia’s eyes are wide as they stare at us, and I nod my head, encouraging her to continue. “Olivia, go ahead. I won’t let him touch you.”

She nods, her teeth chewing her bottom lip. “Thomas Wells invited me into his home under the guise of wanting to matchmake me with his son,” she starts again. “It wasn’t much later that he brought me into his room, supplied me with alcohol and pills, and stoleeverythingfrom me.” She turns her eyes to him. “Thomas Wellsrapedme when I was fifteen years old and took pictures of the tearing. He...” Her voice chokes, tears streaking down her cheeks. She lifts her chin higher. “He made me pretend to be in love with his son so he could use me as histoy. He convinced me that what we had was love, and when he got me pregnant, he held me down, and he had a two-bit doctorcut her out.”

My chest burns from her words, sorrow swirling in my gut.

Olivia stands strong, her shoulders back and her head held high.

My father is stoic, his eyes blazing fire, but a mask still on his face. Ever the perfect fucking politician.

The press explodes, the sound of yelled questions and clicking of cameras so violent it makes my insides jump. Olivia ignores it all, turning to face her abuser, black tears marring her face. “I hope you rot in prison, and they show you all the mercy you showed me.”

And then she walks off stage and disappears into one of the cars.

I clear my throat, trying not to let the emotion show on my face as I make my way back to the mic. “There is evidence in my possession that I will be turning over to the appropriate authorities. Thank you for your time.”

Before I step off the stage, my eyes flash to my father one last time. His mouth is gaping, eyes wide and frantic. He has to know there’s no coming back from this.

Victory swims through my veins, and justice has never felt so fucking sweet.

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

53

Lily

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