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My jaw fucking locks.
“I didn’t even know he was there until he was walking into my studio,” she goes on, her words tumbling out now, frantic and broken. “He started saying awful stuff about you. About how dangerous you are. About the collar. He said I’m obviously just letting you use my body however you want. Then he said Iwas putting Sarah in danger, and that I’ve lost all good sense of judgment by letting you anywhere near us.”
I see fucking red.
“I told him to leave. I told him he was out of line. But he just laughed.” Her whole body trembles. “He said he’s documenting everything. That if I won’t protect Sarah, he will. He said I look pathetic. That I’m just letting you control me. That I’m making it easy for him to prove I’m unfit.”
A fuckinggrowlbuilds in my throat, but I force it down. Search for the calm she needs from me right now. Not that anything of what I’m feeling could be confused with calm, but for Amelia, I keep my voice as controlled as possible when I ask, “Did he touch you?”
Every muscle in my body tenses waiting for her answer.
“No.” A ragged breath catches in her throat. “God...I let him get in my head. I couldn’t stop it.” A sob tears from her. “He always gets in my head. Even now. Even when I know better.” Her voice cracks, like she hates that part of herself the most.
I drop to my knees in front of her even though I don’t kneel for anyone.
ForAmelia? I’ll kneel every damn time.
Today, she’s been stripped raw by a man who made her doubt her own worth, and I need her to know I will never tower over her. I will not be another man who makes her shrink.
I gently take her hands into mine, even as I feel the rage coiling tighter and tighter inside me. A storm waiting to break.
“Amelia, listen to me,” I say, voice rough. “You didn’t do a single fucking thing wrong. That man is a coward, a liar, and a manipulative prick who only knows how to control through fear. He doesn’t get to use your daughter against you. He doesn’t get to touch your peace. And he sure as fuck doesn’t get to touch your mind.”
She nods, eyes glued to mine, still panicked. But I see the breaths she’s now taking, the full fight-or-flight aftershock starting to ease.
“I’ve got you, Princess. You’re safe. He’s not gonna win this because I won’t fucking let him.”
Once her panic’s not choking her anymore, and she’s okay, I shift my focus to what needs to happen next. I get her home and stay for as long as she lets me. Which is no more than an hour because she’s worried she’s interrupted my work. But I dedicate every second of that hour to ensuring she’s grounded, safe, and not carrying this alone. That she knows she’s not irrational. That she knows she’s not overreacting.
Because fuck that.
I saw her face when she walked into my office. I saw what that asshole did to her.
And I need her to know I’m with her. And I’m not going anywhere.
After she forces me to leave, I get in my car and slam my door harder than necessary. My jaw’s clenched so tight it aches. My neck feels like fucking steel cable. I’ve been holding my shit together for two hours—steady voice, calm hands, keeping my fury on a leash so Amelia would feel safe.
But now?
Now that she’s out of my sight, safe in her home?
I can’t hold it back a second fucking longer.
I yank my phone from my pocket and call Jason.
“Forget everything else. I want your full attention on finding out who thefuckis behind the shit being posted about me online,” I grind out. “You said clean hands, dirty trail. I want the fucking trail. Mapped. Memorized. Burned into your brain. And I want the bastard at the end of it gift-fucking-wrapped with a bow.”
I’ve hit my fuck-this-line-in-the-sand point, and I don’t care how deep this goes—I want every digital fingerprint, every breadcrumb, every goddamn metaphoric drop of piss they left behind. And I want to burn them with it.
“Trail’s still dirty,” Jason says. “The bastard’s clean.”
“Then we scrub until we hit blood,” I growl. “Start digging.”
Fuck.
“And Jason? I don’t give a fuck what it costs. Pull your whole team in. Work around the clock. Bring in outside help if you have to. Just get this shit done, and get it done fast.”
I end the call and stare out the window of the car, breath tight in my chest, pulse a fucking war drum in my ears. I didn’t take the bad press seriously enough. Thought it was just noise. Nothing that could touch me.