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“Hungry?” I ask.
“Marks is grabbing takeout.” York holds up her phone. “Should be here soon.”
“Drink?”
“I’d just really like to know what’s going on with Daniel.”
“Daniel?” I gasp.
“That’s what D stands for.”
I look at Gwen, trying to find an anchor, because Daniel? He’s truly a monster using Chloe’s husband’s name.
“It’s in the message chain. Cora let me read it last night.”
“I wanna see,” I say, holding out my hand that is now shaking.
“Cora doesn’t want anyone to read the?—”
“It’s embarrassing,” Cora cuts her off. “I was dumb. I sent pictures and?—”
“It’s okay,” I interrupt, noticing her eyes tearing up. “I don’t need to see them.”
“I just feel so stupid. I’ve never done that kind of thing before and?—”
I take her hands and move us to sit on the couch. “It isn’t your fault. Sit, please.”
She sits down.
I pull my phone from my hoodie pocket, unlock my photo vault screen, where I still have pictures from back then, and click on the mug shot of William. I hand it to her. “This is horribly uncomfortable to talk about, but the man in the photo, he’s my father.”
“Oh my God,” she gasps. “Oh my freaking God.”
“He was recently paroled from prison in the state of California for sexually and physically abusing and raping a minor.”
When my eyes blur, Gwen sits beside me and takes my hand. “I can do this if you can’t.”
“He hurt you? He?—”
“Chloe,” Gwen thankfully continues. “Her half-sister, Chloe. Soon after their mother died, he started abusing her. When she realized it wasn’t her responsibility, that she wasn’t supposed to take care of him like he had groomed her to believe, she fought back and threatened to go to the police. He had her thrown into a detention center for unruly youth and told her he’d kill Cecilia if she told anyone.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“None of this is your fault.” I feel my lip quiver as the first tear falls.
“That’s—oh my God, that’s him. He’s using me to get to you? He’s going to kill the people closest to you? I’m so confused.”
“Cora,” I say, and it sounds all garbled, so I clear my throat. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine,” Gwen assures me.
“This is going to be so hard,” I whisper as I take Cora’s hands and look into her eyes. “Chloe was fourteen, almost fifteen, when the medical staff at the facility found out she was pregnant while she was locked up.”
“Oh my God,” comes out in barely a whisper.
“She kept her mouth shut about the baby’s father, even lied and said it was a boy from school in order to keep me, her, and that baby safe.”
“That baby,” she whispers.
