Page 30 of Twisted Redemption

For a moment, I contemplate leaving. A movie night with Soph and Alex was supposed to be good for me. But this? I can’t imagine this doing anything but harm.

Even so, I have a feeling that if I try to leave, Alex won’t let me. And everyone will definitely know something is up then. So I settle in, staring at the screen but not really comprehending the story flashing before me.

I’ll just leave the second it’s over.

After god knows how long of me trying to concentrate on the movie, my phone buzzes. My heart practically stops when I see David’s face staring at me from the screen.

Picking up my phone, I angle it so no one can see who’s calling me. If Felix finds out—hell, if any of the guys find out—who it is, I’m toast.

I rush outside, stepping onto a patio. The stone is cold against my bare feet, but it’s nothing compared to the panic coursing through my veins.

For most of our relationship, I didn’t have the strength or confidence to stand up to him. Any progress I made in therapy would be obliterated the next time he talked to me.

Now? With some space, and consistent progress, I’m stronger than ever. And this man needs to be put in his fucking place.

I finally answer, taking a deep breath. “You need to stop trying to contact me. We’re finished, David. I don’t want to hear from you again.”

Even though I’ve already told him those exact words months ago, it’s like ripping open an old wound. He was my everything—before he broke me into tiny little pieces.

“What a way to greet the person who used to be the love of your life.” His deep voice is dripping with cold, hard, bitter amusement.

“Listen, David—”

“No, you listen. I just stopped by. I realized I still had some stuff over at your place, and I wanted to come and grab it. But I can’t find what I’m looking for.”

Chills run through me. He was in my house? I changed the locks before I moved out specifically so he wouldn’t be able to get in. And, for once, I actually remembered to set my damn alarm. “How did you get inside?”

Is he lying?

He has to be lying.

Ignoring my question, he snaps, “Where is it, Brooke?”

At the harshness of his voice, the blood in my veins turns to ice. I’m a little girl again, bowing my head to hide my tears as Francis berates me for some trivial little thing.

Disappointed.

Not good enough.

Why couldn’t I have had another son?

How did David go from drunk-texting me that he still loves me to treating me exactly the way my father did?

How can he still make me feel like this?

No. No, don’t give him the satisfaction. He doesn’t have any power over you again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say with such a steady voice that even I’m surprised.

“Don’t lie to me, my love,” he grits out.

“Whatever it is, you’ve gone without it for two months. Doesn’t sound like you really need it.”

He lets out a yell, and I hear something like glass shattering in the background. “I know you stole my hard drive,” he shouts.

My stomach sinks. I figured that’s what he was looking for, but I was hoping maybe it was something else. In the right hands, the contents of that hard drive would be the end of him.

And thankfully, the drive is in the right hands.