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“The doctors said she doesn’t need methadone. Look, Sophia won’t talk to anyone. For whatever reason, she decided she likes you.” I can only imagine the aged experts he has paraded in front of her that make me seem appealing. “Come down for a week. Stay with us. I’ll make it worth your while.”

This man is so sure of himself. I applaud his confidence. But this is one case where flashing a credit card won’t solve his problems. One week of nonstop therapy won’t buy him a cured daughter.

“You think I have a magic pill? I’ll fix her in one week? What are you? An insurance company?” I can’t help but throw that dig in. I hate insurance companies. The hatred comes with my line of work.

“How long would you need?”

“For what? Your daughter is going through recovery. It’s a process.

It will be a long process.” I could go on and explain more, but he strikes me as someone who wants the pill and doesn’t want to hear why a pill to solve this issue doesn’t exist. He’s the kind of man who would tell an employee to just get the job done without acknowledging any obstacles.

A part of me would very much like to throw him out of my office.

As the founder of Nueva Vida, my role is mostly administrative.

Other than some group therapy sessions, I mostly focus on the running of our center.

I am not the person he seeks. But this center wouldn’t exist without Mark Sullivan’s funding, so of course I will sit and listen.

“I’m low on trust these days,” he says.

The admission has me searching his features, and all I see is bare honesty.

“I don’t know how much Uncle Mark told you.

” His gaze falls to a spot on the carpet.

“Wayne Killington wasn’t just an employee.

He was a friend. A family friend. They raped Sophia.

Multiple times. I don’t know if Wayne raped her, or if it was only the men he hired.

She was drugged, and her memory is… The police couldn’t get much out of her.

Killington lives in our neighborhood. Sophia is—”

“Terrified.” The word rushes out before I can stop it. I should never complete sentences for him.

“He eliminated one person who could testify against him.” Jack turns to the window, arms crossed, hands balled into fists.

“And he got out on bail?” I need to go back and read more of those articles about this case.

“There’s nothing to connect him to the death. It looks like suicide. But we all believe he’s behind it.”

This case is unusual, but unfortunately, a raped woman is all too common.

She needs a practicing therapist. My skill set is drug addiction, and my passion is growing the capabilities of this much needed center.

Hell, if I don’t focus, we’ll close down before the end of the year unless Patrick agrees to ask Mark for more money.

“She won’t talk to anyone. Not really. But she likes you.”

I follow his gaze to my forearm and the string of wildflowers coloring my inner arm.

“I’m touched that Mark believes in me. But I’m not nearly as qualified—”

“Qualifications are not my biggest concern. Mark says he would trust you with his life. If my uncle trusts you, I do, too. Get Sophia to talk. To start the process. Then we’ll bring in whoever you say or do whatever…

I just need her to begin. She won’t talk to me.

And she said she liked you.” She spent two minutes with me.

And I wore long sleeves. “Come stay with us. A week isn’t long enough?

One month then. I’ll pay you…” He scans my office as if looking for a number sign on one of my affirmations.

“One hundred thousand dollars. For one month. That has to be more than you are making now.”

One hundred thousand dollars is more than twice what I make in a year.

Nueva Vida is a nonprofit. But my salary is not an issue.

I didn’t start this to accumulate wealth.

However, with one hundred thousand dollars, my plumbing issues disappear.

We wouldn’t need to go to Mark asking for another donation.

My head feels light, and I clasp the edge of my desk.

“My uncle said you do a lot of administrative work. You were the founder of this place?”

“Yes.”

“You can do administrative work remotely.”

“I have group therapy—”

“In the evening, twice a week.”

What the hell ?

He leans forward, arms resting on his thighs. The white of his dress shirt and gold cufflinks show near his wrists. Short, well-manicured nails adorn rugged, suntanned fingers.

“We’ll make arrangements for you to continue those sessions.”

“You know, we won’t have sessions every day. That would be… if you think you are going to expedite her recovery with my living in the house with you, that’s not… Therapy requires time. Think of it as an open wound. Healing requires time.”

“It’s fine. She’ll get to know you. Trust you. You can observe her. Even if she never opens up to you, you’ll be in a better position to make recommendations to me. And I can’t be at the house all the time. I need someone other than security to be in that house with her.”

Finally, the truth. He sees me as an expensive babysitter.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“One hundred thousand dollars.”

The manila folder on my desk taunts me. Why am I arguing? He’s offering rescue.

“One month.” He leans forward over the desk, and I breathe in his musky scent. When his cologne mingles with the conversation, it doesn’t feel like we’re still talking about Sophia. He’s so close, leaning into me, as if this discussion is about us. “For my uncle. He said you would do this for him.”

Everything I have, I owe to Mark and Patrick. Without Mark Sullivan, there would be no Nueva Vida.

This doesn’t make any sense at all, and from a therapeutic perspective it is an unorthodox solution. But if Mark Sullivan wants me to spend time with his niece, I will. Besides, what choice do I have? My alternative is to beg Mark for more money after denying this request.

“Okay. In exchange for an upfront payment of one hundred thousand dollars, I’ll live in your home for one month and spend time with Sophia.

I will work remotely during the day. But, you understand, she may not want to ever talk about what happened to her.

You may not see progress. Recovery requires time. ”

“I understand.”