Chapter 9
“Diane,” I breathed.
She looked different. Her perfect hair was messy, her expensive clothes were dirty, her eyes were wild, nothing like the polished woman I’d known. She looked crazy.
“Put the knife down, Diane,” Ethan said from behind me. He and Olivia had come in through the back. Olivia had her gun pointed at the big man’s head. Ethan had his crowbar raised.
Diane laughed. It was a high, sharp, terrifying sound.
“Or what?” she said, pressing the knife harder against Lila’s throat. A small bead of blood welled up. Lila whimpered. “You’ll shoot me? Go ahead. But if I die, the girl dies with me. I swear to God, I’ll slit her throat before the bullet even hits me.”
“Let her go, Mom,” Ethan said, his voice breaking. “Please. She’s just a kid. She hasn’t done anything to you.”
“She took everything from me!” Diane screamed. “Her, her mother, her whore grandmother! They showed up and destroyed my life! My husband left me! My son won’t talk to me! I lost my home! My money! My reputation! All because of them!”
“That’s not their fault,” Robert said, grunting as he tried to sit up. “That’s your fault. All of it. You did this to yourself, Diane.”
“Shut up!” Diane shrieked. “You don’t get to talk! You ruined everything! You were supposed to be mine! I set you up with Margaret! I built your company! I made you who you are! And then you throw it all away for some trailer trash whore and her brats?”
“Enough,” Olivia said, her voice cold. She took a step forward, her gun steady. “Let the girl go. Now. Or I shoot you in the leg. Then the other leg. Then I keep shooting until you let go of that knife. I don’t miss.”
Diane stared at her. For a second, I thought she’d back down. Then her face twisted with rage.
“Ray,” she screamed. “Kill them! Kill them all!”
The big man—Ray—turned and fired his shotgun at Olivia.
She dove out of the way. The shot hit a crate behind her, splintering wood everywhere.
Ethan charged. He swung the crowbar at Ray’s head. Ray ducked, dropping the shotgun, and tackled Ethan to the floor. They rolled around, punching and grunting.
Robert scrambled up and ran toward Lila. Diane saw him coming and raised the knife to stab her.
“NO!” I screamed.
I ran at Diane and threw myself at her. We both went crashing to the concrete floor. The knife skittered away across the floor.
Diane was stronger than she looked. She rolled on top of me, her hands around my throat, squeezing.
“You little bitch,” she hissed. “You ruined everything. You took my son from me. I should have killed you years ago.”
Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. I scratched at her hands, kicked at her, but she wouldn’t let go.
Then she was gone.
Ethan had pulled her off me. He threw her against a crate. She hit her head and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
I gasped for air, my throat burning.
Robert was already untying Lila. He pulled the gag out of her mouth. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed.
“Grandpa,” she cried. “I was so scared.”
“I know, baby,” he said, holding her tight. “I know. It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
Olivia had Ray on the floor, her knee in his back, his hands cuffed behind him with zip ties she’d pulled out of her jacket.
“Police are on their way,” she said, looking up. “I called them when the first shot went off.”
Ethan knelt down beside me, his hands shaking as he checked my throat.
“Are you okay?” he said, his voice frantic. “Can you breathe? Oh my God, Ava, I’m so sorry. I should have been faster. I should have—”
I pulled him down and kissed him. Hard.
“I’m okay,” I said when we pulled apart. “We’re all okay. That’s all that matters.”
The police arrived ten minutes later. They took Ray away in cuffs. They loaded Diane onto a stretcher, still unconscious, and took her to the hospital under guard. She’d be going back to jail after that, this time with kidnapping and attempted murder charges added to the list. She’d be lucky if she ever got out.
Robert was taken to the hospital too, to get the bullet graze on his shoulder stitched up. Lila refused to leave his side the whole way.
We got back to the hospital just as the sun was coming up.
Clara was waiting for us, sitting up in bed, her face pale with worry. The second she saw Lila, she burst into tears and held her arms out. Lila ran to her, climbing into the bed, and they held each other for a long time, neither of them saying a word.
Olivia stood in the doorway, watching them, a small smile on her face.
Robert came up beside her, his arm in a sling.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything. If you hadn’t been there…”
Olivia leaned her head on his shoulder.
“That’s what family does,” she said. “Right?”
Robert wrapped his good arm around her.
“Right,” he said.
A week later, we were all packed and ready to go.
Margaret was being released from the hospital. She’d agreed to come with us to Michigan. She said she wasn’t ready to forgive Robert yet, but she wanted to meet Eleanor. She wanted to hear her side of the story. She wanted to try to understand.
Clara’s doctor had cleared her to travel, as long as we took it slow. Olivia was coming with us, of course. Lila was bouncing off the walls, excited to meet her grandma Eleanor.
Ethan and I were going too. We’d decided to take a break from the city, from the press, from all the drama. We needed time to heal. Time to figure out how to be married again, without all the secrets and lies between us.
We got in three cars at five a.m., just like Olivia had planned. No press. No cameras. Just us.
As we drove out of the city, the sun rising over Lake Michigan, I looked at Ethan beside me, his hand on my thigh. I looked in the backseat at Lila, fast asleep, her head on Clara’s lap. I looked at the car in front of us, where Robert was driving, Margaret sitting beside him, not talking, but not fighting either.
I thought about everything that had happened in the last two weeks. The wedding. The slap. The secrets. The lies. The kidnapping. All the pain and heartbreak and fear.
But I also thought about the good things. Finding Clara. Finding Olivia. Meeting Lila. Ethan and I finding our way back to each other. Margaret and Robert taking their first tentative steps toward healing.
Family wasn’t about being perfect. It wasn’t about having no secrets. It was about showing up. Even when it was hard. Even when you were scared. Even when you had every reason to walk away.
We were a mess. All of us. But we were a family.
And as we drove north, toward Michigan, toward Eleanor, toward whatever came next, I knew one thing for sure.
May you like
Whatever happened.
We’d face it together.
