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FIONA CARMICHAEL’S HOUSE of cards came tumbling down after that. A man was dead. A seventeen-year-old girl had been charged with criminally negligent homicide. It had all gone too far. And the kids involved were about to graduate, to leave home in most cases. Protecting a high school queen bee didn’t seem that important anymore. Liza, Sage, and Wyatt told the cops everything they knew. But as my daughter had claimed, they’d arrived late. By the time they’d sneaked in through the Lesters’ basement door, the devastation was already in progress.

But Lily Mathers had been there for all of it. She’d watched Fiona let Hugo in with his little bag of pills, stood by as Fiona cajoled a naive Abby into taking more and more. Lily had witnessed the overdose, saw Fiona urge the sick girl out of her clothes and stand by while Hugo laughingly recorded her. She was there when Fiona gleefully uploaded the video to Snapchat. Lily had wanted to come forward straightaway, but it would have been social suicide. Fiona could and would ruin her friend’s senior year. So Lily had submitted the video to the school portal, hoping that the administration would find out who was behind it. But we never did.

Lily told the police everything that happened that night, and Mysha Naz backed her up. But Fiona and Hugo stuck to their story, professing ignorance over who brought the drugs and blaming Abby for taking more pills than she could handle. Sadly, they had plausible deniability. There was no physical evidence against them. There were no recordings of Hugo bringing the pills, or Fiona pushing them on Abby. It was their word against Lily’s and Mysha’s.

The police weren’t interested in a spat between teenagers. They were too focused on solving Shane Miller’s death. And these kids were no longer students, so the school had no power to mete out punishment. But what Fiona and Hugo did that night was monstrous, unforgivable, and their peer group would not let them get away with it. Their social isolation was complete and total. Even Fiona’s most devoted sycophants turned against her, while all the kids she’d been unkind to delighted in her downfall. Hugo and Fiona became pariahs. They were harassed mercilessly online. I almost felt sorry for them… but not quite.

Fiona’s parents shut down her social media accounts and took away her devices. They booked her into a six-month wilderness camp meant to build character (and hopefully perform exorcisms). Last I heard, Hugo had decided to join the military.

But before the girl left, I was granted a sit-down with her. I needed to know Fiona’s role in the attacks on me, for my own peace of mind. Nancy agreed to reach out to the Carmichaels, and somewhat surprisingly, they allowed their daughter to talk with me. I’d expected them to accompany her to the school, and I’d booked a conference room that would accommodate us all. But Fiona showed up alone. Apparently, her parents felt comfortable letting us talk one-on-one due to our long-standing relationship. Or maybe they just couldn’t bear to hear any more of her evil deeds.

The girl who sat across from me at the conference table was not the pretty, confident teen who had ruled Maple Heights. Fiona wore no makeup, and her blond hair was flat and unwashed. A smattering of pimples dotted her jawline, from stress likely. She was thinner, too, and those eyes—wide, innocent, with a hint of mischief—were dull and dead. It should have made me happy, but all I saw was another child destroyed.

“Abby did all the online stuff to you,” she told me as soon as I closed the door. “She hated Liza, and she thought the best way to get to her was through you. That way, she wouldn’t risk getting Liza’s private school crew after her.”

I didn’t bother to point out that Abby only hated Liza because of Fiona’s lies and manipulation. I wouldn’t scold. I needed information.

“Abby’s super tech-savvy,” Fiona continued. “She’s practically a hacker. And she knows a lot about books and all that stuff.”

“How did Abby get the photos of Megan Prince to set up the fake accounts?” I asked. “She didn’t know Megan. And Megan’s account was private.”

“I sent her those from Hugo’s phone.” Fiona looked down at her hands in her lap so I couldn’t see her expression. “I never thought you’d be able to connect them back to us. Megan doesn’t even live in this country.”

Lingering shame reddened my cheeks at the memory of my trip south, but I pressed on. “You were spending time with Liza. Pretending to be her friend. Why?”

She looked up then, and I saw a glimmer of the cruel girl she had been. “So I could keep track of you and feed info to Abby.”

Info like my friendship with Martha and Felix. Like the names of my boyfriend and my ex-husband.

“You were supposed to be my counselor, Ms. Lane. But you were being such a bitch to me.”

Because I knew you were lying about what happened at Abby’s party. But I clenched my jaw to silence my words. “Did you squirt the shampoo all over my bathroom?”

“It was a prank,” she snapped. “Liza brought me home with her when you were out. She was packing some stuff, so I went into your bathroom.” Her eyes met mine, fearless, even amused. “Hugo and I sent you the pizzas. And the flowers. He sneaked into your garage and tagged your car. Got a friend to throw that burrito at you. And I called you a couple times.” She smiled that innocent smile. “We’re just kids. It was just fun.”

The girl was a psychopath.

“What about that nasty woman in the audience in Miami?” I asked.

Fiona looked bemused for a moment and then she shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess some people hated your book for real.”

A muscle in my temple throbbed, but I pressed on. “Why was Hugo watching my building?”

“When you showed up at his aunt’s place, he raced home to tell me about it. I was hanging out with Liza, so he came to get me. I ran down the fire stairs when you turned up. When Hugo saw you staring at him, he took off.”

It all made sense, but I had another question. “Was Hugo creeping around outside Liza’s dad’s house, too?”

“That was probably Wyatt.” Fiona smiled. “He hated that Liza was hanging out with me. He was always trying to tell her that I was just using her, but she was too stupid to listen.”

I remember the string of Wyatt’s texts to Liza, asking where she was. He had been looking out for my daughter all along, and I’d suspected him. But I’d been right about Fiona. She was still cruel and horrible under the fa?ade of contrition. My face was hot, and my voice trembled with anger.

“That’s all I need to know. You can go.”

Fiona stood, took a few steps toward the door, and then turned back. “Will you be writing another book soon, Ms. Lane?” Her eyes danced with humor.

“Have fun at your wilderness camp,” I snapped. “Hopefully they can turn you into a human being.”

Her mouth twitched, and I thought she was going to tell me to go fuck myself or worse, but she didn’t. Her features rearranged into their somber affect. And then she shuffled out of the room, returning to her fa?ade of remorse.

I believed Fiona that Abby had done the worst of it: hacked into my email, fomented online hatred, and doxed me. She even found the disgusting image of that exploited little girl to send to me. Her actions damaged my personal life and destroyed my writing career, but I couldn’t be angry at a girl so abused and manipulated. Unlike Fiona, Abby had been punished enough.

Abigail June Lester consented to a Not Criminally Responsible on Account of a Mental Disorder verdict in Shane Miller’s death. A court-ordered psychiatrist had diagnosed her with severe PTSD, and, thanks to her November birthday, she was still a child in the eyes of the court. But a man had died due to her actions, and Abby was given a brief custodial sentence at a forensic psychiatric facility. I knew from my research on Burnt Orchid that juvenile incarceration does not often lead to positive outcomes, but Abby will receive various therapies there. And I hope her stay will be brief enough not to have long-lasting effects.

Rebecca and Craig Lester moved away. No one knows where they went, which was likely their intention. When Abby is released, they can heal, start over without judgment. I hope one day, Abby Lester will get back the life she once had, the life she deserves. I hope the same for Liza. I hope the same for me.

My relationships have all been damaged: Jody and Martha didn’t believe or trust me. Navid shared confidences with Rhea. Tori has finally shown me her true feelings. But none are beyond repair except one. Theo and I were already over, but we make it official over a beer and a final conversation.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that mess with me,” I tell him, toying with my coaster. “But I think it showed us that we’re not meant to be together.”

“Yeah, I think I need someone a little less… complicated,” he agrees, but I hear the sadness in his voice. “I know I acted like a controlling jerk sometimes, but I loved you, Cam.”

“Me too.” I smile, a wistful lump in my throat. “But Liza needs all of me right now.”

We say our goodbyes then, our keep in touches, let’s stay friends, but we won’t. We’re too different. We want different things.

For now, all I want is to help my daughter deal with all she’s been through. She feels incredibly guilty. About what happened to Abby and Shane Miller. And about what happened to me.

“It was never about your book, Mom,” she sobbed in my arms. “It was about what I did. And now your career is ruined.”

“It’s okay, Liza.” I shushed her. “I still have my job as a counselor. I’ll be fine.”

“But you loved writing. It was your dream.”

I held her at arm’s length, stared into her tear-filled eyes. “All I care about is that you’re okay.”

It’s the truth. After everything that’s happened—the hate, the abuse, the tragedy—my career aspirations feel inconsequential. Being a published author feels too vulnerable, too exposed. And I can’t afford to drift away to a made-up world now. I need to stay present, to focus on healing Liza and our relationship.

And on healing myself.