Chapter 3

April POV:

The threat hung in the air between us, transmitted through the cold, impersonal characters on the screen of my burner phone. My brother. He was always my weakest point, and Hamilton knew it.

My fingers trembled as I typed back, the words a jumble of fury and desperation. "You wouldn' t."

His reply was instantaneous. "Wouldn't I? April, I was the one who put him there. I am the only one who can get him out. You know this."

Tears I didn' t know I had left to cry began to fall, hot and silent, onto my hands. I hunched over, a sob catching in my throat. "You monster," I whispered to the empty hotel room. "He was your friend, Hamilton. He was your brother."

The phone buzzed again. "The legal system is a labyrinth, my love. And I designed the maze your brother is trapped in. You can wander around in the dark, trying to find another guide, or you can come back to the man who holds the map. The choice is yours."

I squeezed the phone so tight I was surprised the screen didn't crack. He was right. After the high-profile conviction he had so masterfully secured, no reputable lawyer would touch Dudley' s case. It was career suicide to go up against Hamilton Jones. I was trapped. He had me, and he knew it.

A wave of utter powerlessness washed over me, so profound it left me dizzy. "What do you want from me?" I typed, my thumbs clumsy.

"I want you to come home."

I let out a bitter, humorless laugh. Home. The word was a mockery. "I won' t fall for it again, Hamilton. You promised before."

"Then find another lawyer," he taunted. "Go on. Make some calls. See how many of them hang up on you when they hear my name."

I didn' t need to. I knew he was right. He had built my prison with meticulous care.

A low, guttural sound escaped my lips, a sound of pure animal pain. "Are you trying to drive me insane?" I typed, the tears blurring the screen.

"Don' t be so dramatic, April," his reply came. "I' m simply reminding you that begging me is far more effective than begging anyone else. I know where you are, by the way. The St. Regis, Room 1408. A little predictable, don' t you think?"

My blood froze. He knew. Of course, he knew. He had eyes and ears everywhere. My pathetic attempt at hiding was a child' s game to him.

The fight drained out of me, replaced by a hollow, aching resignation. For Dudley. I had to do it for Dudley.

I took a shaky breath, my pride turning to dust in my mouth. "Please, Hamilton," I typed, the words tasting like poison. "Please help him."

There was a long pause. I could almost feel his satisfaction radiating through the phone.

"Be ready at seven," he finally replied. "My driver will pick you up for my mother' s gala. And April? Try to look less like a tragedy. It' s a party, not a funeral."

I didn't reply. I just dropped the phone onto the bed and stared at my reflection in the dark television screen. The woman looking back at me was a stranger, her eyes wide and haunted, her face pale and drawn. I splashed cold water on my face and began the grim task of applying makeup, layering foundation and concealer over the evidence of my tears, creating a mask of normalcy.

One last time, I told myself. I will trust him one last time. For Dudley.

At seven o'clock sharp, a black town car was waiting for me. Not Hamilton. I remembered a time when he would never let anyone else drive me, insisting on picking me up himself, his hand always finding mine on the center console. Another memory to be buried.

The gala was in full swing when I arrived. The ballroom of the Pierre Hotel was a sea of glittering jewels and fake smiles. And in the center of it all was Hamilton. He stood with his arm possessively around Brittany' s waist, a proud smile on his face as he listened to her speak to a circle of his admirers. She was wearing a stunning red dress, her hand resting on his chest in a gesture of casual intimacy. She looked like the lady of the house.

"Your new secretary is a marvel, Hamilton," one of his partners was saying. "She organized this entire event flawlessly."

"Brittany has always been exceptional," Hamilton said, his voice laced with pride. He squeezed her waist, and she preened under his touch.

Someone else chuckled. "Be careful, Ham. People might start to think there' s more than just a professional relationship there."

Hamilton didn' t deny it. He just smiled, a silent confirmation that sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.

Then he saw me. His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he composed himself, detaching from Brittany and walking towards me.

"April, darling," he said, his voice a smooth performance of husbandly concern. "You look pale. Are you feeling alright?"

"I' m fine," I said, my voice flat. "Looks like you were... busy."

He reached for my hand, his fingers cool against my skin. "Don' t be like that." He tried to lace his fingers with mine, but I instinctively pulled away.

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into my wrist. He leaned in, his voice a low, menacing whisper in my ear. "We had a deal, April. Do not make a scene."

I had intended to play the part. I had rehearsed it in my head a hundred times in the car. Smile, nod, pretend. But seeing her, seeing them together, so comfortable, so public... the carefully constructed dam inside me began to crack.

The air in the ballroom suddenly felt too thick to breathe. I could feel the familiar panic rising, the walls closing in.

"I need some air," I mumbled, pulling my wrist from his grasp and turning on my heel, desperate to escape the suffocating performance.

I didn' t get far before I heard his friends talking, their voices loud enough to carry.

"What is her problem? Hamilton is a saint for putting up with her."

"Honestly, after her family' s scandal, she should be grateful he didn' t just dump her. Instead, she' s always causing trouble."

The words were like slaps to the face. I stumbled out of the ballroom and into the deserted hallway, leaning against the wall as my stomach churned. The panic was a physical entity now, clawing its way up my throat.

I just needed my medication. Just one pill to quiet the screaming in my head.