After losing mom, he’d held our family together. Now, what? It was up to me, and I was barely keeping my head above water. I had no idea how he’d done this. When mom had fallen ill, he’d stayed upbeat, carried the weight of our fears on his back, and provided all the while. Kept the café open. Even after her death, he’d remained stoic.
My vision had gone blurry. I wiped my eyes on the sleeves of my sweater.
It was too much. Dad sick, Damien back, Kara…
My phone buzzed with a notification, and I picked it up. It was from one of my social media accounts. Another buzz went off, and then another. People commenting on my posts and sending me private messages.
“What on earth?” I set my bowl on the coffee table and unlocked my screen.
My social media profiles, all of them, were blowing up.
A message popped up on my screen from one of my distant cousins. “I’m so sorry he did that to you. Let me know when you want to talk.”
What the hell?
Another came through from a friend I hadn’t spoken to since middle school. “Hey, I know I haven’t touched base with you before, but I just wanted to say I’m so sorry. You know, I’m here if you need anything. Just let me know.”
“What is going on?” I asked.
Piddlywump meowed at me.
I hit my notifications and found that I’d been tagged in post by a national news broadcaster. I strangled out another expletive and hit on the notification. It took me to a social media post—a video. Which I was in.
Except I had never been interviewed by anyone before, and certainly not by one of the biggest newscasters in the country.
Hazel McCutcheon Tells All—One Woman’s Story of Abuse and Deceit at the Hands of…
“Of what?” I hit play.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to an interview, Miss McCutcheon,” the newscaster said, turning to face Kara. Because of course it was Kara.
She was dressed modestly for once, wearing a neat buttoned blouse and a pair of my earrings, but it was still Kara. “I thought the world deserves to know the truth. There are so many women out there who suffer silently at the hands of their abusers, and I figured that if I stepped up and spoke out, it would give them confidence to do the same.”
That was all good and true, but I had a sinking feeling about this. A horrible swirl of fear in my gut. What was Kara doing? Why was she doing it?
“Tell us about your relationship with Mr. Damien Woods.”
My vision grayed out, and I forced myself back in the chair, sucking in breaths.
“Well, he wanted me to fake an engagement with him so he could trick his poor father into making him the CEO of his company,” Kara said. “And I was an idiot. I was manipulated by him because he promised me affection, kindness, love, and money. He said that if I did what he wanted, he would make my dreams come true.”
“No, no, no, no, no. Kara!” I shrieked at the screen. “What are you doing?!”
Lying. Damaging not only Damien but every other woman who had a story of abuse to tell. When the truth about this came out, it would set victims back.
My sister was a piece of shit.
“And how did the relationship progress?”
“It was fine at first,” Kara said, “but then the abuse started. Verbal at first, and then—”
I paused the video because I couldn’t take another second of this. She was evil, wretched, horrible. She was lying on camera, for what? Fame? Had someone paid her to do this? She was ruining my life, Damien’s, and countless others’ by lying. She was invalidating real abuse victims everywhere.
My heart thudded in my chest.
I navigated to my settings and muted notifications from all apps, then pulled up my sister’s phone number and hit the button to call her. The phone rang and rang then went to voicemail.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Kara’s message was breathy. “Leave me a message, and you can bet I will get back to you.” The tone sounded.
“Yeah, you’d better fucking get back to me,” I thundered, and Piddlywump jumped and streaked under the sofa. “What the hell are you doing? Have you gone mad? Did you really think you would get away with this? Kara, the first thing I’m going to do is tell everyone the truth. I’ll contact every station, every paper, every online fucking e-zine thing, and tell them you lied! You—” The phone clicked, and I hung up, blind rage coursing through me.
This was a disaster. I’d thought things couldn’t get any worse. I’d been wrong.
38
Damien
I’d formulated a plan for helping Hazel and proving to her that I cared. Two birds with one stone. Christ, that was a distasteful saying.
All I needed was the right contact to help me get the information I needed. My suspicion had always been that my father was dealing with people he shouldn’t have. How many clandestine meetings had he held in his office at the top of that tower? If I could use that to my advantage…
My phone buzzed, and my brother’s name flashed on the screen.
“Seth,” I said. “I’m doing it. I’m going to bring Dad back down to earth while I’m—”
“Have you seen the news?” Seth asked.
“No. Look, that’s—”
“Turn on the fucking news, right now, Damien. This is serious. Shit is going wild.”
I frowned but picked up the remote and hit the button. I cycled through the channels but stopped when an image of Hazel bloomed on the screen. No, not Hazel. Kara. The mannerisms were different to Hazel’s. More gauche.
A scrolling banner at the bottom of the screen carried the headline:
HAZEL McCUTCHEON SURVIVES ABUSE AT HANDS OF BILLIONAIRE
