Page 102 of Held-

“Exactly,” Joe agrees, tapping his pen against his pad. “The Kincaids are used to getting their way, which makes them arrogant. Arrogant people make mistakes.”

“What kind of mistakes?” my father asks, leaning forward in his chair.

“They overreach. They get sloppy.” Joe looks at me with renewed purpose. “This false accusation against you? That's an overreach. They're counting on their influence to overcome facts. But facts are stubborn things, and we have them on our side.”

I want to believe him, but fear tightens around my heart, squeezing until it’s hard to breathe. “What if it’s not enough? What if they’ve already poisoned the well? This is a small town, and people talk.”

“Then we’ll speak louder,” my father says, surprising me with the force behind his words. “From the pulpit if we have to.”

I stare at him, momentarily stunned. The thought of my father standing in front of the congregation and defending me against Ethan feels unreal—a glimpse of a world where the past five years unfolded differently, where he chose me over appearances.

“You'd do that?”

My father looks wounded by my doubt. “You’re my daughter, Cecelia. The only family I have left. I will not tolerate the Kincaids hurting you, me, or my church any longer. This ends now.”

“Dad,” I start. “I appreciate that, but I don't want to drag the church into this mess.”

“The church is already involved,” he says firmly. “When they attacked you, they attacked me. When they withdrew their funding to punish you, they punished the children who benefit from our charity drive.”

Brayden's hand tightens on my shoulder, a silent show of support that steadies me more than he knows.

“Thomas is right,” Joe says, surprising me with his use of my father's first name. “The Kincaids have made this bigger than a personal vendetta. They've weaponized their influence against both you and the church. That gives us more leverage, not less. We just have to prove it, and that is going to take some time.”

“So what do we do in the meantime, Joe? Sitting and waiting is not one of my strong suits,” Brayden asks.

Joe taps his pen against his legal pad, considering Brayden's question. “You keep on living your life, and we don't give them any ammunition to use against us.”

“That's the lawyer answer. I'm asking what we actually do while these assholes are out there painting Cece as some kind of psycho ex-wife.”

“We stay smart,” Joe replies. “The Kincaids want you to react, to do something rash that would justify their narrative. Don't give them that satisfaction.”

I twist my hands in my lap, the dull throb in my wrists a constant reminder of what happened. “Maybe we should just leave town for a while. Let things cool down.”

“No.” The word comes from both Brayden and my father simultaneously, overlapping in rare agreement.

“Running looks like guilt,” my father says, his jaw set in that stubborn way I know too well.

“And it gives those bastards exactly what they want,” Brayden adds, his hand squeezing my shoulder gently. “You gone, me gone, problem solved for them.”

I sigh, leaning back against the couch. “So we just pretend everything is okay?”

“Precisely,” Joe answers. “You need to be seen in public. Preferably still taking care of your duties at the church. We need to continue the narrative that you aren’t capable of the accusations.”

I stare at Joe, his words dropping into my mind one after another, heavy and unavoidable. Public appearances. Maintaining the narrative. It all feels like another performance, another role I’m supposed to step into. And God, I’m exhausted. I’m so tired of pretending, of shaping myself to fit what everyone else needs me to be.

“And what happens if Ethan shows up to taunt me? What if he corners me again? I can't exactly ignore him if he's in my face.”

Joe sets his pen down deliberately, his expression calm but serious. “If Ethan approaches you, you walk away. You don't engage, you don't respond, you simply remove yourself from the situation.”

“And if I can't?” The memory of being trapped against that bathroom wall makes my skin crawl.

“You won't be alone,” Brayden says immediately.

Joe holds up a hand. “Actually, that's not the best approach. Brayden, you need to keep your distance from Ethan. Any confrontation between you two plays right into their narrative.”

Brayden opens his mouth to argue, but Joe continues before he can speak.

“I'm filing for a protective order as soon as I leave here,” he says, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Given the evidence ofphysical harm,” he gestures to my wrists, “we have solid grounds for approval.”