And then she’s out the door, too, her orange blossom scent lingering behind her.
Or maybe I’m the only one who smells it.
I grab a file the prosecutor sent us and fall back into my seat.
Lauren rolls her chair so that she’s facing me. “Ms. Bell needs a lot of prepping and we don’t have much time before the trial.”
We don’t.
Sandra reported the charges against her father a few months back after she ran away from home and lived off the trust fund her mother left her. Since they’re paid off by Matt and his defense, the police and the DA office attempted to sweep everything under the rug, but Sandra was smart and sent the report to the media. Considering her father’s public status, the press latched onto the case like hungry sharks after smelling blood. As a result, the prosecutor was obliged to file the criminal case against Matt Bell, but he’s been carefully backpedaling and hoping this whole thing will be old news so he can drop the charges.
But the press wouldn’t leave this alone. There are support groups and women organizations involved now and they all have their eyes on how the prosecutor will handle this case.
Sandra had a restraining order against Matt, but she got her recent bruises when she went back home to get something and he suddenly showed up and beat her again for daring to go against him.
Which is why she decided to sue him civilly as well.
Point is, the prosecutor could take the criminal case to trial any time now. Especially since Matt’s defense attorney used every trick under the sun and underhanded methods to push the civil case forward. I assume they’re counting on Sandra to freak out and handle the civil case poorly, which will give the prosecutor all the reasons to dismiss the criminal case.
I don’t trust the prosecutor. I don’t trust the whole f*cking system, which means in order for Sandra to get her justice in both cases, I need to twist his arm with evidence I will present in the civil trial.
“Let’s brainstorm, Lauren. We have to get more media attention and for that, we need to play harder on their emotions.”
Even though I’m sure Anastasia won’t like it. But this is what she asked for and this is what I’m going to give her.
And the world.
17
ANASTASIA
I step out of Knox’s office, but I couldn’t follow Sandra even if I wanted to. My legs shake so badly that they’re hardly holding me up.
So I lean against the wall in the corner to catch my breath. I really don’t think I’m fit for comforting people.
I’ve never been good at it.
Being raised to remain in the background put shackles on me—like never standing out. Never offering a hand or a shoulder to cry on.
My cousin, Rai, is the only woman who’s been by my side since Mom died, and while she loves me, she didn’t need any comforting from me. She’s strong, stronger than some men, and I’ve never seen her weak.
She also treated me with kid gloves as if one wrong touch would break me.
A twinge spreads in my chest when I think of her reaction to my disappearance. She must be so disappointed in me, so angry.
But I can’t afford to think about the family I left. Not now.
My fingers tremble as I retrieve my phone and scroll to one of the few pictures I have with Mom and Babushka. I was so young at the time, probably four, and I’m sitting on Mom’s lap, giggling uncontrollably.
I’m a carbon copy of her, whether it’s the white-blonde hair, the deep blue eyes, or the tiny features. But she always looked broken, tired, almost as if she was exhausted of existing.
Mom wasn’t the type to smile, but she has a small smile in the picture as she stares at me. Babushka is grinning, too, her entire attention also on me.
These two women loved me unconditionally and if fate had worked in different patterns, I would’ve been able to recreate this image.
The more I continue staring at the picture, the more it anchors me, giving me a sense of safety.
“I’ll always be with you, even when I’m far away, Ana.” That’s what my mother used to say and as a child, I could feel her close, near me.
Now, too.
And I have to do the right thing. I have to be there for Sandra, even while knowing who stands with her father.
Even while knowing that I could be compromised.
But I can’t just abandon someone who’s asking for help. How is that any different from abandoning my own mom?
After hiding the phone, I walk to the bathroom, where I expect Sandra to be. However, I find her near the window, grabbing her chest and leaning forward.
I hurry toward her, then stop a safe distance away so I don’t startle her. “Are you okay?”
She slowly lifts her head, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Uh…yeah…I think so.”
“I know he was harsh, but he’s really good at what he does, so trust the process, okay?”
“Maybe he’s right. If I…can’t handle this with people who are on my side, how am I going to do in court? In front of him? I’m going to make a fool out of myself, aren’t I?”
“No, don’t say that.” I approach her slowly. “You are a brave girl, Sandra. Not many are as brave as you and that deserves to be worn as a badge of honor.”
A small smile peeks through the tears. “Thank you for saying that.”
