Chapter 20

TWENTY

T he house is bigger than mine, and it screams old money. We were escorted in by a butler in a three-piece suit and directed to a sitting room with white couches perfectly placed before a coffee table displaying the latest fashion books. To the left of us is the fireplace with a painting, a portrait of the couple, hanging above it.

I'm surprised because when I knew her, she didn't have money. She was working for it.

Kage and I realized we needed evidence because if they won't stop the docuseries, I will expose the truth myself. To do that, I need more than my voice. No one would believe me without it, so I started writing a list of everyone who might be able to help me, and we began a search. She just happened to be the first person we found, though it wasn't easy. Kage called in some favors, which I didn't ask about since I'm thinking it wasn't legal.

"Are you sure this is right?" I murmur as I cross my legs. I'm wearing a short bouclé skirt and matching jacket, and my sunglasses are pushed up to hold my hair back. Kage looks like a demon in his all-black ensemble and dark makeup, but shit, he looks fine.

"I'm sure. She changed her name and tried to erase her past, but it's her," he promises.

I nod, shifting nervously, wondering if she will remember me. I certainly remember her. She was always at those parties my father and his band held. As one of their favorite strippers, she saw more than most and worked with most of the men there for extra services. If anyone can shed light on what happened behind closed doors, it's her.

The doors to the room open. We both stand as she sweeps in, smelling of Chanel and decked out head to toe, even for lounging at home.

She does a double take at Kage before her eyes land on me, and when all the color drains from her face, I know it's her. She's had work done. Her nose is different, as is her chin, and hell, her eyebrows have been lifted, but it's her. She has the same blue eyes and blonde hair, although it's in a bob now, and instead of a string bikini bottom, she wears a white power suit.

"Fallon?" she whispers before swallowing.

"Sit, please," I reply. She looks between us again before heading to the sofa and sitting down gracefully, crossing her legs. No doubt she's been trained in etiquette, but I remember her sprawled out on top of glass tables with lines on her chest. It's strange.

"Why are you here?" she whispers. "How did you find me?" There's panic in her eyes.

"You married a politician?" I ask incredulously.

"We met through my . . . old work and fell in love." My eyebrows rise, and she purses her lips. "Believe it or not, you can't help who you love. He helped me clean up my past, and we've had no issues until now. Please, Fallon, why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here." I scoot forward as she recoils. Standing, I walk around and sit next to her as she looks at me. "You always knew this was coming and have been trying to run from it. I need your help." I lay my hand on hers because she was a victim too. "It's time to tell everyone what happened back then and make them pay."

"Please, Fallon. I can't lose my husband or this life. Don't ask this of me. It would destroy us." She snatches her hand back and stands, pacing away from me as I rise too. "I'm married now, Fallon. That girl back then? She's dead. I was reborn. She's dead, I'm not. "

"I can see that," I snap, my anger taking hold now, although it isn't her fault. "I don't get to walk away from my past that easily. It eats me alive every single fucking day. I don't get to kill who I was and be reborn. I have to live with it. Even my name still makes me theirs. Every single day, I look in the mirror and remember everything they did to me, everything they did to us. You might have been paid for it, but we both know you didn't want it. I need you. I need everything you saw and experienced. Please, Sarah, surely you want them to pay for what they did."

"You think I don't want to?" she shouts, pushing her hair back. "You think I don't struggle to sleep, remembering it all? Even when I hold my kids, I wonder if I will have to protect them from men like them. I go to parties with my husband and they are there, eyeing me, and I feel sick and dirty all over. No matter how much I change or how much money I have, I'm still a whore to them." Tears spill from her eyes. "I can't outrun my past, but I'm trying, so don't ask me to do this. Don't ask me to risk my family, my children for this. I lived through it. I won't do it again. I can't." She sobs. "I can't, Fallon, not even for you. I'm sorry if that makes me weak, but I just can't."

Stepping closer, I take her hand. "It's okay. I'm sorry. I was being selfish. I get it. If I could run from this, I would."

"No, you wouldn't." She smiles sadly. "You were always so strong, but look at you now. I might not be able to help you, but there are others who can." She hurries away, scribbling something down and ripping off the paper before handing it to me.

I nod in thanks and step back. "I really am sorry, Sarah, for coming here. I didn't think it through. I don't want to take your life from you. You deserve to be happy and loved. I'm glad you found that. Not everyone has to live in the past, and I hope you know, whore or not, you've always been the woman before me."

"Fallon—"

"Mom?" The door bursts open, and a girl and boy come in and run to her, wrapping their arms around her legs.

"Hi, babies, did you have a good time with Daddy?" she whispers, crouching and looking into their eyes .

"Mom, you're crying. Are you sad?" the girl asks.

"No, baby, I'm okay. I'm just happy to see some old friends." She stands, looking at me.

"Your mom is an amazing woman. Take care of her for me," I tell them as I nod at Kage, and we head toward the door.

"Fallon?" I turn back to see her arms wrapped around her children as she watches us. "Make them pay."

Sarah reminded me that I'm not just doing this for me, but for every woman they hurt back then. I wasn't the only one, after all, and where there is one, there will be many. Men like this have a pattern of abuse, and it didn't stop with me.

The name she gave me isn't one I'm familiar with, but when we pull up at the cemetery, I'm shocked. We head inside, and after searching, we stop at a grave that matches the name on the paper.

LENNIE MILLER.

BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER

1990-2005

She died the year before my father died.

"Excuse me, who are you?" I turn to see an older, frail-looking woman. Her hair is gray, and her skin is slightly tan. She's short and round, but as she watches us with friendly brown eyes, I see a quiet strength in her. "Did you know my daughter?"

"Your daughter?" I turn back to the grave and then look at the woman. "You are Ms. Miller?"

The woman nods, clutching flowers, and I step back as she struggles to her knees. Kage helps her place the flowers and clean the grave, and then he assists her to her feet. "Thank you, my knees aren't what they used to be," she says, and then she glances between us again. "Did you say you knew my Lennie?"

"I don't think so."

She frowns at me in confusion, and I sigh.

"I'm Fallon?— "

"Fallon? Agille's daughter?"

I swallow as I nod, and she looks me over.

"Come with me."

We end up at a cute little two-story house after following her urgings. It's just a short walk from the cemetery, and it's immaculate. Ms. Miller hustles around the cute kitchen, where we sit at a round table. She quickly sets out tea and cookies before sitting and looking at me again. "You don't look like him, but you have his?—"

"Eyes," I finish. "You knew my father?"

"No, not really." She reaches over and pours me a drink, her hand shaking on the porcelain, and I cover it as she meets my gaze. "I only know him because of my daughter. I have been trying for years to expose the truth about what happened to her."

"Her death?" I ask.

"That and before." She nods, sitting back. She wraps her hands around the teacup and stares into it. "It doesn't matter how many times I tell it, it never gets easier. Most dismiss me as a grief-stricken old lady. They don't care about the truth."

"I do," I assure her. "I was given your daughter's name for a reason. Can you tell me what happened?"

She takes a deep breath, and I swear she ages before our eyes as she starts to speak. "My daughter was a model. She was a teenager, but they scouted her when she was young, and she was so determined because it was what she wanted." She smiles sadly. "She was so headstrong that we could only agree. We traipsed around the world with her, but it happened right in our backyard. Her manager took her to an awards party. He didn't mention an after-party, and we must have fallen asleep waiting for her to come home. She was gang raped." She meets my gaze. "At one of your father's parties. Her manager dropped her off at a hospital. She had her stomach pumped, and they patched her up before she had to find her own way home. We woke up to her crying. She was never the same after that night, and she never got any more jobs. Her manager quickly dropped her. She was forgotten, and no one cared about her or what we had to say. We went to the police, but no one cared." Tears fill her eyes as she pauses. "She eventually killed herself, unable to handle it."

She delivers that news with stoic coldness, but I can see the agony and grief in her eyes, and I know this woman has never and will never get over what happened to her daughter.

We watch her, silent and horrified, and she takes a sip of her tea. Shame fills me. It was my father's sin, but I blame myself.

"My husband blamed himself—we both did. We should have gone with her, should have protected her." She laughs bitterly. "We were fools, and he couldn't handle it. He killed himself just six months later, leaving me alone. I wanted to follow them, to be with them and hopefully find peace, but I couldn't. If I did, then there would be no one to fight for justice. I have been doing it every day since, not that anybody cares. Nobody listens. I'm forgotten just like her. I lost my daughter, my husband, and my life."

I take her hand as she starts to sob, and Kage takes her other one. As she cries, I look around the house. It's frozen in time, no doubt from the year she lost her husband and daughter. I bet nothing has changed. She's like a ghost, and I understand how that feels.

"You aren't forgotten. I'm sorry it took me this long to find you, but you aren't alone. Your daughter wasn't the only one who was hurt in that house, and I'm going to make them pay. I'm going to make everyone listen," I promise as she lifts her tear-stained face.

"We can't do anything. You are one person, and everyone ignores a small wave," she murmurs.

"But enough small waves make a tidal wave they can't ignore," I tell her, holding her hand tighter. "I will make them remember your daughter and what they did to her, to me, to everyone."

She watches me sadly before threading her fingers through me. "I heard rumors, but I didn't know if they were true. I'm so sorry, my child."

"It's not your apology I need to hear. They didn't destroy me then, and they won't now—plus, we aren't alone." I look at Kage. "There will be more of us out there, and I'm going to find them. I'm going to create an army of angry, vengeful women and shove it in their faces until they can't ignore it. Will you help me?"

"With anything you need. Let's bring them down," she replies before wiping her eyes. "Excuse me, let me clean myself up. Drink and eat, I'll be back." We watch her climb to her feet with a new strength in her steps.

Getting to my feet, I leave Kage sipping the tea as I wander into the attached living room, looking over the pictures displayed proudly above the fireplace. My eyes catch on one of a girl, her daughter. It's clearly from a model shoot, and she looks beautiful. Picking it up, I smile at the excitement in her eyes. Her deep brown eyes match her mom's.

The longer I stare into those eyes, though, the more horror fills me. My entire body turns cold as I stare into a face I've seen before. It was just once, but it was enough to stay with me even now.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" comes a voice, and I startle, almost dropping the picture, but I catch it and put it back. Ms. Miller watches me worriedly.

"Stunning." I nod, my voice hoarse as I glance back at the photograph again.

Memories claw at my throat, and I know we have to get out here. I won't dishonor her daughter any more than she already has been, nor will I traumatize this woman any further.

I won't give life to it here in a place of love.