Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter now—”
“You didn’t know he still had that crap.”
The way she says crap makes me squirm.
The thought that even after all these years, Harry had it stored somewhere, and why? Was he waiting for a day when he could burn me to ashes if we ever crossed paths again?
“He’s fucking disgusting,” I spit.
“We hate him! And I’ll never be ashamed to be your friend. The only one who should feel any shame at all is that pig. How can people be so stupid?”
“No one knows he leaked them deliberately,” I say dully. “Only we know. And Brady, too, maybe.”
“Lena, for the last time—it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter what other people say.” She eyes me sternly. “Have you been looking at shitty comments online again?”
“Hard not to when you have huge crowds of people yakking about your life.”
“I know,” she says gently. “The peanut gallery sucks, and being caught in it over something like this? Horrible. But he’s not going to get away with this, girl. Over my dead body.”
She looks fierce enough to make me believe it.
“I’d rather it was over his,” I say.
“That’s the spirit. How should we torture him first?”
Laughing bitterly, we hit the runway with a bump. I square my shoulders, drawing a deep breath.
Home, sweet home.
Truthfully, I don’t know how I’m going to survive this, but I will.
Elle watches me with sympathy, and she knows better than to break into a big teary-eyed pep talk.
“You’re going to get through this, boss lady. Spine of steel,” she whispers as she hugs me again. “Are you sure you don’t want that list of lawyers from Gruffykins? He’ll put you in touch ASAP. Give your name, and they’ll make room for you.”
Ugh, don’t remind me.
This is my first foray into the legal swamp, and it’s plunging into the deep end. But I nod like it’s not overwhelming to save face.
“I’ll figure something out, Elle. Love you,” I say as the plane rolls to a stop.
“You’re sure you don’t want to ride with me?”
“I’d better get home,” I tell her. “It’s just a short walk and an Uber ride. I’ll call you later.”
“Well, okay. Don’t do anything illegal, babe.”
With a rough laugh, I stand and shoulder my bag. We head for the exit, where a lady in uniform smiles at me. The flight attendants are almost invisible on these private flights unless you need them.
I wonder if she noticed me trying not to melt down for the entire two-hour flight back to Washington.
“Love you too,” Elle calls, staying in place as I exit the luxurious plane.
Back into the real world.
A light rain mists my face as I walk down the passenger stairs. To my relief, no journalists or cameras are waiting on the tarmac, but I guess that’s the advantage of flying private.
No gaggle of black cars waiting past the building with the tall fence either. At least no one seems to know where I am, although that probably won’t last.
Especially when I need to see Brady.
They’ll assume we’re broken up.
I try to feel like that’s a good thing, but it’s really just another nail through my heart. It makes it harder to focus when I get to the parking lot and try to hail a ride with the app.
Despite the fact that I didn’t ask, August texts me a brief list of lawyers’ names. Take a look at your convenience. Let me know which one you prefer and I’ll call.
That hits different.
For a man as outwardly grouchy as August—Elle is like the only one who can make that beast smile—he sure has a kind heart.
Mental note: Thank him properly later. Elle too.
They’ve been talking about getting a puppy, and you can hook them up.
I scroll through the list, idly flicking through a few of their websites. All of them seem comically overqualified for this, with their Ivy League degrees and impressive records unraveling real cases, but I guess that’s the benefit of having rich friends.
Right now, even though I hate, hate, hate the thought of August and Elle spending money on me, I know I’ll need a good lawyer or three to put Harry Jay down. Ideally, before I do something really illegal, after all.
Sorry, Elle.
If that means swallowing my pride, I will.
This isn’t about me, judging by those articles that told me how many people he’s screwed over. I have to do my part to make sure he never gets another chance to hurt anyone ever again.
And if it clears my name while I’m at it, cool. As Mom would say, if wishes were fishes, we’d be eating for a month.
More than anything, I need to be realistic.
I need to fight.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call, and for a second, my heart leaps.
Brady?
Then I remember what that number is, and my heart sinks to my knees.