Chapter
I turned my phone back on at noon.
I had forty-seven missed calls. One hundred and twelve text messages.
Most were from my family. Some were from people I barely knew—neighbors, old classmates, people who’d been at the party.
I called Jennifer first.
“The story’s blowing up,” she said. “TV stations are picking it up. Your father’s company just released a statement denying everything. Ethan’s company says they’re launching an internal investigation.”
“Good,” I said.
“Natalie, you need to be careful. People like your father don’t go down easy. He’s going to fight back.”
“I know,” I said. “Let him.”
I hung up and called my best friend, Sarah. She’d been the only person I’d told about my plan.
“Are you okay?” she asked immediately.
“I will be,” I said.
“Your cheek looks terrible in the photo they used. Did you go to the hospital?”
Jennifer had convinced me to go to an urgent care clinic after our phone call. The doctor had documented my injuries—contusion, split lip, possible mild concussion. That medical report was part of the story too.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just sore.”
“Come over,” Sarah said. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
I went to Sarah’s apartment. She made me tea and hugged me and didn’t say “I told you so” even though she had told me, many times, not to go to that party.
We watched the news together.
A local reporter was standing outside my parents’ house. Cameras were set up on the lawn. Neighbors were peeking through their curtains.
“Richard Brooks has not yet commented publicly on the allegations,” the reporter said. “But sources tell us that the Ohio Attorney General’s office is already reviewing the evidence presented in today’s newspaper report.”
Sarah squeezed my hand.
“They’re going down,” she said.
I nodded, but I felt something tight in my chest. This was what I wanted. What I’d worked for. But watching my family’s life unravel on live television was harder than I’d expected.
Not because I felt sorry for them.
But because I realized how much of my own life I’d spent tied to their secrets.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.
I was at the party. I saw what happened. I’m so sorry. I want to help.
I stared at it.
Sixty-eight people. And now one of them was reaching out.
I didn’t reply. Not yet.
That afternoon, there was a knock on Sarah’s door.
Two police officers stood on the other side.
“Natalie Brooks?” one of them asked.
I nodded.
“We’re here to take a statement about the assault last night,” he said. “And we have some questions about the allegations in the newspaper.”
I let them in.
For two hours, I told them everything. Again. The assault at the party. The fraud. The embezzlement. The years of abuse.
They took notes. Asked questions. Were professional and kind.
When they left, one of them turned to me.
“Thank you for coming forward,” he said. “This kind of thing doesn’t stop unless someone brave enough speaks up.”
Brave.
No one had ever called me that before.
That night, I stayed at Sarah’s place. I couldn’t face going back to my apartment, where I’d probably find reporters waiting.
I lay in her guest bed and stared at the ceiling.
My phone buzzed one more time before I turned it off.
Another text from that unknown number.
I know people who can testify against your father. Please call me. 555-0142. My name is David.
David.
I thought about it. Then I saved the number.
Tomorrow, I’d call him.
Tonight, I just needed to sleep.
May you like
For the first time in years, I didn’t have nightmares.
I slept like the dead.
