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“I thought that was the sex.”
He grinned. “That was a bonus.”
I wrapped the sheet around me, suddenly wide awake. “Elias, what’s in L.A.?”
His smile faded into something softer, more serious. “The men who scammed your mom.”
I froze. “What?”
“The ones who drained her account.” He leaned forward, cupping my face in his hands. “I found them, Red. Two of them, at least. They’ve resurfaced. Different names, same playbook. And they’re running their scam again, targeting a new crop of vulnerable families.”
My heart thudded against my ribs. “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve combed through transaction histories, flagged email chains, and network metadata that nobody else bothered to follow. Because I’ve got contacts at a cybersecurity firm in Burbank who owed me favors. And because I know what it looks like when predators get comfortable.”
I stared at him, the reality of it settling over me like a weighted blanket. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack,” he said.
I exhaled, slow and shaky. “Why?”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you doing this? Going all-in like this? You’ve already done more than I ever could’ve asked for.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Because I know you. And I know you’ll never stop craving adrenaline. You’ll always have fire in your veins. But this—this is a way to use that fire. To build something instead of burn everything down.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“You don’t have to choose between passion and purpose, Vivi,” he said. “We can chase both. Together.”
And just like that, the earth shifted beneath me.
Because he was right.
I couldn’t erase the years I’d spent dancing on rooftops and running from my past. I couldn’t pretend I’d ever be someone content to live quietly behind a picket fence. But for the first time, I saw a way to turn that energy into something useful. Something healing.
“I want to make them pay,” I whispered. “For what they did to her. And to every other family they’ve destroyed.”
Elias’s smile was fierce now. “Then let’s start with that.”
I felt the tears sting before I could stop them. “You’re not scared of who I am?”
“Not even a little,” he said. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve met my share of warriors.”
I curled into him then, the sheet forgotten, our skin bare and honest. “This changes everything,” I murmured.
“No,” he said, brushing a kiss against my temple. “This begins everything.”
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of packing and planning. Elias made calls while I scribbled down questions I wanted answers to. Flight manifests, aliases, old court records—we compiled it all.
But not before I saw my mom one more time.
We stopped by the facility that morning, the sky barely brightening, dew still clinging to the flowers outside her window. Her nurse met us in the hallway and said she’d had a calm night, that she’d woken humming and asking about gardenias.
When I walked into her room, she was sitting up in bed, wrapped in a soft throw, her eyes tracking the sunlight as it spilled across the pale blue walls. She looked so small, so fragile—but peaceful.
She didn’t remember who I was at first. Not until I sang the first line of “You Are My Sunshine.”