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"Layana," the attorney’s deep voice crackles through my cell and I step away, into the hall.
"Hey Damon. I need your help."
* * *
Jillian’s brigade shows up before Dr. Renhart has finished. As Brant sits by the fire, a needle in his arm, I flip the TV channels to the security channel and watch the camera outside of the main gate. Our guards are by a trio of Black Escalades, their stance aggressive and I watch as the second vehicle’s door opens and one of Jillian’s security guards gets out. There is a heated conversation and I click the volume higher out of habit. There’s no sound and I sigh in frustration.
“Relax,” Brant says, his head back on the chair, his eyes closed. She’s taken six vials of blood so far and I watch as she twists the final test tube onto the rubber stopper. “She can’t touch us, babe.”
She already has. This game feels like one that we’ve been playing on her board, with no instructions and a pair of trick dice. I had thought that I had stolen Brant from her all of those years ago. But now I’m questioning everything. How much of her manipulation I played into.
There is movement on the cameras and I turn back to them, watching as the three SUVs do a quick U-turn through the cul-de-sac outside our gates. I need to understand the woman we’re at war with.
“You know," Brant says, and now he’s sitting up, the doctor undoing the tight orange band from his upper arm. “Her heart is in the right place. She’s just trying to do the right thing.”
“For what?” I sputter. "For you? BSX? Or to help herself?” I shake my head.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need to get these to the lab.” Dr. Renhart stands and loops her stethoscope over her dark curls.
“Sure. How long will it take?” Brant moves to his feet and flexes his forearm, pressing on the place where she had taped a bit of gauze.
"The results of the blood tests won't be available until tomorrow. I'll call you with the findings as soon as I have them. Anything you were injected should pass through your system in the next twenty-four hours. In the meantime, take in lots of liquids and eat fairly bland foods.” She fishes her cell phone out. “I'm going to drop you the contact for Dr. Henry Terra. He's the foremost authority on DID in California, if not in the country. I would suggest you call him immediately, if not for your own psychological needs, then to get his legal advice or support for trial." She turns to me and reaches out, wrapping me into a firm hug. "Once you sort this out, I expect to see you at HYA."
"You know me, I can't stay away." I smile at her, and there’s a tinge of pity in her eyes that I hate. Brant and I are fine. We’re strong. I broke down the wall of lies and we survived and are fighting back, any negativity focused on Jillian. We have love, the rest will get better or worse, and I would rather have worse than any more lies.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” she promises.
She walks away and Brant wraps his arm around me and pulls me close, his mouth soft as he presses a kiss against my neck.
It was a moment of peace and unity in the craziness, a moment of calm in the storm, a reminder that we were one and together, we could make it through anything.
I roll in Brant's arms and press my chest against his. I wait for the familiar spark of chemistry but there is nothing there. We’re both exhausted—mentally and physically—and I cling to him and press my cheek to his chest, listening to the reassuring thump of his heart.
I had told myself, for two years, that I was dealing with Lee out of necessity. This doctor—Dr. Henry Terra—he might have a cure, something that might kill off the other personalities and leave only Brant.
Just Brant.
No Lee.
That will be perfect, right? I tighten my arms around his waist, and push the question away. I ignore the small voice in the back of my mind, shouting out the truth - that a part of me loves Lee. Needs Lee.
A tear ran down my cheek.
Chapter 77
On Tuesday morning, Jillian's injunction to push Brant's custodial motion through is stopped, courtesy of our new team of legal representation. Currently, we have three attorneys who are rigorously opposing any and all attacks on Brant Sharp's character, and all billing an enthusiastic eight hundred dollars an hour.
It’s worth it, especially since Jillian has both the funds and the means to put up a fight. So far, she's slunk away, and I won't be surprised if she drops the incompetence battle and comes back to the table with her hat in hand, determined to make amends.
That would be the smart thing to do, and while I don't have many nice things to say about Jillian—she is an intelligent woman. Months of legal battles will only hurt the public image of BSX, throw Brant’s credibility into question, and destroy any chance of a family reunion between her and Brant. Plus, there was the evidence of his blood test results—a cocktail of illegal drugs administered under her watch. Add to that the misinformation about his medication over the last two decades … she should be arrested, along with his doctor. I feel adamantly on the point, but he is just as resistant to the idea.
He is, as he has frequently pointed out, a billionaire. CEO of one of the most powerful tech companies in America. Engaged to a gorgeous and brilliant woman (okay, I couldn't argue with that). His life, under her control and medication, had gone well, in his mind. And he believed that her heart was in the right place.
I don’t understand it. I don't understand justifying any of it but I’m keeping my mouth closed and trying to support him through a time when he is barely holding everything together.
I keep waiting for Lee to make an appearance, given the stress he is under, but I’ve only seen Brant. That's a good thing, of course.
I swipe through the screen on Brant’s car, softening the lumbar support and turning on the seat heater. The car bounces gently over a bumpy section of the highway as we head back from the office, my ring finger now heavy with the weight of my new acquisition. It’s beautiful, of course, glistening from my fourth digit and I finally feel worthy of it.
