Page 41 of Piggy

Charlotte

I race through the courthouse, passing plaques and empty offices until, ah-ha! There it is.

The lawyer’s office, Nevin.

I don’t knock. Just barge in, beaming. “Hi! Hello! Remember me? I’m Charlotte.”

He glances up, surprised.

“My brother is Brax, the drug trafficking case? My mom’s a whole mess, but I’m the one who begged for my little brother back!”

A smile tugs at his mouth. “Right. That was a big case for our office.”

I nod enthusiastically. “Well, I got Atticus back. I became an EMT. I pay bills. Like an adult. Life is still hard, but... better.”

He leans forward, elbows on his desk. “That’s wonderful. So what brings you here now, Charlotte?”

My fingers curl tightly around the phone in my hand. “I—I have a recording. A confession. I think it can help get my boyfriend out of prison. Or... well, ex -boyfriend. But I still love him and—”

He holds up a hand. “Easy. One breath at a time.”

I force a breath through my nose.

Then he drops the hammer: “I’m a prosecutor. My job is to keep people in prison. Not spring them out.”

“But he’s innocent. This time, I swear,” I say quietly.

“They all are,” he mutters, already looking bored.

“No, seriously. This evil woman set him up. Meghan. I have her on tape . She admitted it.”

He blinks, attention sharpened. “Let me guess. Rowen Grayson?”

I nod.

He exhales slowly. “We know Grayson very well. Charlotte, you seem like a smart girl. What are you doing with someone like that? The man’s record reads like a criminal resume. Robbery, assault, rape. A classic repeat offender.”

“He’s not who he used to be,” I whisper.

He tilts his head at me like I’m a hopeless case, then shuts the office door and sits down.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m showing you this,” he says, spinning his monitor around.

He types something fast, and a file opens on screen. Dark lines of text, then a thumbnail video.

“Rowen came to our attention when he was just six. A viral video showed his mother falling asleep at a bus stop. He caught her purse before it hit the ground. Held her phone. Sat next to her. Waited. Sweet, right? People loved it. Kid looking after his tired mom. Reality is his mother took drugs and passed out, leaving the child unattended in a very public space. He was simply accustomed to caring for his mother when she used drugs.”

He presses play.

On screen, a little boy sits coloring while a woman off camera asks questions.

“Rowen, do you want to live with your mom?”

“Yes.”

“She’s not taking care of you. You said you cook, clean. Do chores for neighbors to help pay rent. You’re just a boy. That’s a lot.”

He shrugs. “Dad left. She needs me.”

“Why does she need you?”

“Mom says if it weren’t for me, she’d have a boyfriend, so it’s the least I can do.”

The woman tries again. “Is your mother taking medicine, like pills—?”

He stops coloring, and his cute face twists into a scowl. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

Nevin pauses the video. “He shut down after that. Wouldn’t say another word. Happens a lot with kids like him. Protecting their own. Parenting their parent. Loyalty runs deep, even in hell.”

He clicks open another file. “There’s more. Want to see the high school footage? ”

My heart sinks as the second video begins. This time, I do recognize him.

Much bigger. The clenched jaw. The rage simmering in his teenage eyes. Yep, he’s younger, but unmistakable. One of my high-school bullies. The same guy that, years later, became my boyfriend. My sadist. My Grayson.

Only now, I see the storm that built him.

The social worker’s voice is soft. “Rowen... losing a parent is hard on anyone.”

“It’s fine,” he mutters, arms crossed tight, eyes fixed on the wall. “I haven’t lived with her for two years.”

“Yes, but you still spoke to her. Your foster parents said you stole money for your mom. Is that true?”

His jaw ticks. “Yeah. I gave it to my mom. Thought she’d use it for rehab so I can go home. She didn’t. Bitch lied. Like all women do. Bought more drugs.”

“She was sick. Addiction isn’t—”

“She didn’t give a fuck about losing me. Is that addiction or just being a selfish cunt?”

“Rowen,” she scolds, but speaks lower to calm him. “The State of Florida is worried you have an unhealthy perception of women. They are concerned you may need time in a correctional facility for juveniles. For example, your foster mom is a kind lady, but you pushed her down the stairs.”

“She wouldn’t shut up.”

“So you spat on her face? ”

“She gave me a look,” he retorts matter-of-factly, like it’s reasonable.

“Do you think your mother—”

“She’s dead now, so who cares? I pissed on her grave last week. Wish I could’ve done it while she was alive with that fucking needle in her arm.”

“Now, listen...”

“No!” he roars. “Fuck that woman. Nothing I did mattered. You know why? Because women are all the same. Lying and manipulative.”

She shakes her head.

“That’s who my mother was. Slept with every dick in the city while I had to sit there and wait. She got me drunk so I would be quiet while she was in the other room swallowing cock. Was that the addict in her? Or the whore?”

“She made a lot of mistakes, but…”

He slams his fist on the table and glares at the social worker. “She’s just like you. Trying to manipulate me to believe my mother was a good woman.”

He smiles, evil.

Then, a crash —

He knocks the woman’s bookshelf over and storms out.

I cover my mouth. Nevin stops the playback and watches me, smug. “He was sent to juvenile corrections after that. He didn’t rehabilitate, obviously.”

I hold myself. Knowing why Grayson hates women doesn’t bring the relief I imagined. I don’t know how to fix that .

“Still think he’s your misunderstood prince?” Nevin asks. “I don’t care what’s on that phone. People like Grayson don’t get redemption. The younger the trauma starts, the more evil they become. I have a prison full of Graysons. They don’t get better. They get meaner, more violent, more dangerous.”

My chin trembles, but I don’t cry.

Because I’m not just heartbroken. I’m furious.

This is what Meghan knew.

And he didn’t tell me.

The next day, I walk into the prison as Ashleigh, thanks to her ID. The guard barely glances up before letting me through.

I sit down and wait, twiddling my thumbs, rehearsing my speech.

Then I see him.

Grayson.

He’s walking in at the far end of the visitation room. When he notices me, his head tilts back, eyes to the ceiling as if he’s praying for an escape. Or forgiveness. Or for me to disappear.

My heart flutters, sick with longing. Is he really not happy? This is awkward. A disaster. I want him to be ecstatic. I know I lied to get him to meet with me, but...

Gosh , even in that orange jumpsuit, he looks beyond sexy. I blink .

The sleeves stretch tight around his biceps, veined and cut like he’s been bench-pressing rage.

His chest is thick, his waist lean. Dark stubble shadows his jaw, begging me to gloss my fingertips over its rough surface.

He’s cuffed, but nothing about him looks contained. He still looks intimidating.

When he finally unfreezes and moves toward my table, it’s not the confident prowl I remember. There’s a lag in his step, like he’s dreading this moment. He sits with a sigh.

But won’t meet my eyes.

“What do you want, Piggy?” he says sharply. “Brax finds out you visited me, he’ll have my skull kicked in by lunchtime.”

“Then I’ll make this fast,” I reply. I swallow hard. I am ready! I can do this!

I lean in, eyes narrowed as I make myself look tough. “Grayson... you are the dadless wonder. Not me.”

His gaze flicks up. Locked on me now. That deep voice snarls, “What did you just say?”

“I know about your mom.”

His face hardens. “What?”

“And you told Meghan. Not me. You trusted her with the one thing that damaged you. But not the girl who actually loved you. Me!”

He flinches. Subtle. But I catch it.

I can’t stop. Too hot. Too hurt.

“I asked you. So many times. I begged to know you. To learn about your past. You were so guarded and just threw me scraps. You asked about me to hide you. ”

“I didn’t want your fucking pity,” he growls.

“Well, I didn’t want a boyfriend who wouldn’t trust me!” I fire back.

Damn.

It’s strange how I can push back now. Maybe time away from Grayson has made me stronger on my own. Living completely single. Surviving without him. Taking care of my brother. Doing well in my new career.All by myself.

Yeah! I don’t need to worry what this liar thinks of me! Therefore, I keep going, stern and filled with pride.

“You know what, Grayson? It wasn’t about pity. You were just scared to tell me.”

He leans in, voice gravelly. “No, I wasn’t scared. Meghan could handle it. You couldn’t. Look how dumb you’re acting now.”

“Nope. You’re are just a coward .” I bite my bottom lip, holding back, but the words break free. “You like hurting women because you hate your mom! That’s why you’re a sadist!”

The whites of his eyes double, causing my breath to catch.

Did I say the wrong thing? Be calm, Charlotte. I’m getting too upset... But he deserves this! He didn’t let me in. He let Meghan in!

I shoot up to my feet, fists clenched. “And you think I’m too weak? You can barely look at me. And the fact you still talk to that awful woman! Over me? Well...” I suck in a deep breath, then blurt: “Fuck you, Grayson!”

He’s up in an instant, chair scrapping floor, cuffs clinking .

The guards turn, watching. Hands on holsters.

He’s towering, making my neck bend way back. His voice dips just enough for me to hear, dark and simmering with hatred.

“I dare you to say that again, you stupid fucking...”

Not this time. I can’t back down. A room full of guards is perfect. I’m safe. Thus, I square my shoulders and interrupt.

“Your name isn’t even Grayson. It’s Rowen. I didn’t know you because you wouldn’t let me. So guess what? That means I never loved Rowen, and I never loved Grayson. So I never loved you!”

The shift is instant.

His eyes go dead. Face blank, jaw muscles loose. Stunned. Gawking at me.

My heart races. I can’t breathe.

Then slowly, too slowly, his lip curls. A smile. But it’s not warm. It’s wicked.

“The bitch found her bite,” he murmurs.

Reflexively, I start to turn to add distance between us.

“Don’t.” His voice rasps. “Pray I don’t get out of here, Charlotte. Because if I do...” He leans in, eyes burning. “I’ll shut that fucking mouth of yours for good. Then you’ll know the real me.”

I shiver, because the person I am facing is not a boy, not a rebellious teen, and not even the man I fell in love with.

This man?

He’s the danger that lawyer warned me about.

My instincts scream: Hurry. Run. Now!