Updated Oct 22, 2025 • ~15 min read
Paige ignored Vincent’s calls for two days.
Two days of the burner phone ringing at all hours. Two days of text messages that went from concerned to desperate to angry to pleading.
V: Please talk to me.
V: At least tell me you’re safe.
V: I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But we can’t do this alone.
V: Paige, please. I’m losing my mind.
V: I’m sorry. For everything. For the tracker. For not protecting you better. For being a Hartley. For all of it.
She read every message. Deleted none of them. But she didn’t respond.
Because Marcus’s words had burrowed under her skin like parasites. Vincent always chooses family in the end.
And the terrible thing was, Paige believed it. Why wouldn’t she? She’d chosen herself when she took the money. Why wouldn’t Vincent choose blood over a woman he’d known for barely two months?
On the third day, Zoe showed up at her apartment unannounced.
“Okay, intervention time.” Her best friend pushed past her into the apartment. “You’ve been weird for weeks, you’re barely eating, and Derek called me worried because you keep calling in sick. What’s going on?”
Paige closed the door and locked it. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You look like hell.” Zoe’s eyes were kind but firm. “Is this about the trial? About withdrawing your statement?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Paige sank onto the couch. She was so tired. Tired of lying. Tired of carrying this alone. “I made a mistake, Zoe.”
“What kind of mistake?”
The words were on the tip of her tongue. I took a bribe. I’m falling for the wrong man. I’m in way over my head and I don’t know how to get out.
But she couldn’t. Vincent had made her promise. No one could know.
“I just… I thought withdrawing would make things easier. But it’s made everything worse.” Technically true. “And now I’m questioning everything.”
Zoe sat beside her, taking her hand. “Have you talked to Dr. Martinez?”
“No. I’ve been avoiding her too.”
“Paige.” Zoe squeezed her hand. “You need to talk to someone. You can’t carry this alone. Whatever this is.”
“I’m okay. Really.”
“You’re not. But I can’t force you to open up.” Zoe stood. “I’m making you dinner. And we’re watching terrible reality TV. And you’re going to eat and relax and remember what it’s like to be human for a few hours.”
Paige wanted to protest. Wanted to be alone with her misery.
But the thought of company, of normalcy, of pretending for just a few hours that her life wasn’t imploding—
“Okay,” she whispered.
They ordered pizza and watched a dating show where people made terrible decisions and Paige found herself laughing despite everything. Zoe didn’t press. Didn’t ask questions. Just sat beside her and provided the silent support of presence.
By the time Zoe left at ten, Paige felt almost human again.
The burner phone rang at eleven.
Paige stared at it for a long moment. Then answered.
“Don’t hang up,” Vincent said immediately. “Please. Just listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“Thank god.” He sounded wrecked. “Paige, I’m sorry. For the tracker, for not telling you, for—”
“Stop apologizing. I’m not mad about that.” She curled up on her bed. “I’m mad because Marcus got in my head and I let him.”
“What did he say to you?”
“That you’d choose family when it mattered. That I’d be left with nothing.” Her voice was small. “And I started thinking… he’s right, isn’t he? When your father dies, when this all comes out, you’ll have to choose. And I’m not family. I’m just the woman your brother destroyed.”
“No.” Vincent’s voice was fierce. “You’re not just anything. You’re—” He stopped. “Paige, I know I’ve given you no reason to trust me. I know my family has done nothing but hurt you. But I need you to hear this: when the time comes, I’m choosing you. Not Marcus. Not the family name. You.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I do know that. Because I’ve already chosen you. Every time I called. Every time I warned you. Every time I gave you evidence that could destroy everything I’ve ever known.” His voice cracked. “I’ve already burned those bridges, Paige. There’s no going back now.”
Tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m scared.”
“Me too. But we do it scared. Together.” He paused. “My father’s in hospice now. They’re saying days. Maybe a week at most. It’s almost over.”
“And then what?”
“Then we release everything. The evidence, the letters, all of it. Marcus goes down. The family name gets destroyed. And you and I figure out what comes next.”
“What if there is no next for us? What if this only works because we’re in crisis?”
“Then we’ll find out. But Paige, I’d rather know than spend the rest of my life wondering what we could have been.”
She closed her eyes. “I missed your voice.”
“I missed yours too. So much it physically hurt.” Vincent’s voice softened. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’ve been doing for three days besides avoiding me.”
So she did. She told him about Zoe’s intervention, about the terrible reality show, about the pizza and laughter and brief moments of normalcy.
And he told her about sitting with his dying father, about the things left unsaid between them, about the guilt of loving a man who’d enabled so much damage.
They talked until after midnight, rebuilding the connection that had fractured in the parking lot of that storage facility.
“I need to see you,” Vincent said finally. “I know we can’t. I know Marcus is watching. But I need—”
“I know. Me too.”
“When this is over, I’m taking you somewhere. Anywhere you want. Paris. Tokyo. A cabin in the woods. Anywhere we can breathe without looking over our shoulders.”
“I’d settle for coffee without fear.”
“You’ll have that too. I promise.”
After they hung up, Paige felt lighter. Not fixed, but better. Like maybe she could survive this after all.
She fell asleep with the phone on her pillow and dreamed of Vincent taking her hand and leading her somewhere safe.
The call came at four a.m.
Paige jolted awake, heart pounding, grabbing the burner phone.
“He’s gone.” Vincent’s voice was hollow. “My father. He died an hour ago. I’m at the hospital now.”
“Vincent, I’m so sorry.”
“Are you?” His laugh was bitter. “Because I’m not. Not really. Is that terrible? That I feel more relieved than sad?”
“No. It’s human.”
“I need to handle arrangements. The funeral. The will reading.” Vincent’s voice strengthened. “This is it, Paige. In a few days, everything changes. Are you ready?”
“No. But I don’t think I’ll ever be.”
“Good. Because neither am I.” He paused. “I have to go. Marcus is here. Playing the grieving son. I can’t stomach looking at him right now.”
“Be careful.”
“You too. This is when he’s most dangerous. When he has nothing left to lose.”
They hung up, and Paige lay in the dark, processing. Charles Hartley was dead. The countdown was over.
Now came the reckoning.
She couldn’t sleep after that. Got up at five and made coffee she didn’t drink. Watched the sun rise over Los Angeles and wondered what the next few days would bring.
The burner phone stayed silent all day. Vincent was busy with death and family and the elaborate dance of grief.
Paige went to work—finally—and Derek pulled her aside.
“Everything okay? You’ve been gone a lot lately.”
“Family stuff. It’s complicated.” Not entirely a lie. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more consistent now.”
“Just take care of yourself, okay? You’re a good employee but you’re no good to us if you burn out.”
If only he knew how close to burnout she actually was.
That night, the burner phone rang at seven instead of eleven.
“Funeral’s Saturday,” Vincent said without preamble. “Will reading is Monday. By Tuesday, we can release everything.”
“So fast?”
“My father planned it all before he died. Efficient to the end.” Vincent sounded exhausted. “Paige, I need a favor. A big one.”
“What?”
“Come to the funeral.”
Paige’s heart stopped. “What? No. Vincent, I can’t—”
“I need you there. I know it’s insane. I know Marcus will be there. But I need to look across the room and see you and remember why I’m about to do what I’m about to do.”
“This is crazy. Marcus already knows we’ve been meeting. If I show up at your father’s funeral—”
“Then let him know. Let him see that I’m not backing down. That you’re not afraid.” Vincent’s voice turned pleading. “Please. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”
“Vincent—”
“You can sit in the back. Wear sunglasses. No one will even notice you. But I’ll know you’re there. And that’s all I need.”
Paige knew she should say no. Knew this was reckless and dangerous and exactly the kind of thing Marcus would use against them.
But Vincent sounded so broken. So lost.
“Okay,” she heard herself say. “I’ll be there.”
“Thank you. God, thank you.” Relief flooded his voice. “I love—” He stopped abruptly. “I have to go. Marcus is calling. I’ll text you details tomorrow.”
He’d almost said it. I love you.
Paige sat with that knowledge, turning it over in her mind. Did she love him back? Could she? Should she?
She didn’t know. But she knew she was about to walk into the lion’s den for him, and that had to mean something.
Saturday arrived grey and overcast, which felt appropriate for a funeral. Paige dressed in a simple black dress and heels, pulled her hair back, wore oversized sunglasses.
Anonymous mourner. That was her role today.
The funeral was at a church in Bel Air—expensive, exclusive, full of LA’s elite coming to pay respects to a man who’d covered up his son’s crimes for decades.
Paige slipped in late and sat in the very back pew, partially hidden by a column.
The church was packed. She spotted Marcus in the front row, playing grieving son perfectly. And beside him—Vincent.
Even from the back, she could see the tension in his shoulders. The way he held himself apart from his brother.
The service was exactly what she expected. Eulogy after eulogy praising Charles Hartley’s business acumen, his philanthropy, his dedication to family.
No one mentioned the women he’d paid off. The secrets he’d kept. The monster he’d enabled.
Paige sat through it all, hands clenched in her lap, fighting the urge to stand up and scream the truth.
But not yet. Soon, but not yet.
When the service ended, people filed out slowly. Paige waited, letting the crowd thin. She was about to leave when she felt eyes on her.
She looked up.
Vincent stood at the front of the church, looking directly at her. Even with the sunglasses, he’d known. Had found her in the crowd.
Their eyes held for a long moment. Then he nodded. Just slightly.
Thank you.
Paige nodded back.
I’m here. I’m with you.
She slipped out before anyone else could notice her.
But as she reached her car, a voice called out.
“Paige Carter. What a surprise.”
She turned. Marcus stood ten feet away, funeral-perfect in his black suit.
“Paying respects?” His smile was sharp. “How touching. My father’s funeral. The father of the man you tried to send me to prison.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Wait. I want to talk to you.” He came closer. “See, I’ve been thinking. About you and Vincent. About what he gave you that night at the storage unit.”
Paige’s blood ran cold.
“And I realized something. My brother isn’t trying to protect me. He’s trying to destroy me. And you’re helping him.” Marcus’s eyes gleamed. “What did he give you, Paige? Evidence? Proof? Names of other victims?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. And here’s the thing—I don’t care. Because whatever Vincent thinks he has on me, I have something better.” He leaned in. “I have the truth about what really happened between you and me. And I’m willing to tell it.”
“Everyone knows what happened—”
“Do they? Or do they know your version?” Marcus’s smile widened. “See, I have texts. Photos. Evidence that you were a willing participant in our relationship. That the ‘abuse’ you claim was actually just rough sex you enjoyed until you decided you could profit from playing victim.”
Paige felt sick. “That’s a lie.”
“Is it? Prove it. Because I have receipts. And when I release them, everyone’s going to see you for what you really are—a woman who took my brother’s money to stay quiet because you knew your story wouldn’t hold up in court.”
“You’re insane.”
“No. I’m prepared.” Marcus straightened. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to give back whatever Vincent gave you. You’re going to disappear. And in exchange, I won’t destroy your reputation and credibility so thoroughly that no one will ever believe another word you say.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I release everything. And instead of me going to prison, you get exposed as a fraud. A liar. A woman who cries rape for profit.” His voice dropped. “Your choice. You have until the will reading on Monday.”
He walked away, leaving Paige shaking in the church parking lot.
She made it to her car before the panic attack hit.
Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only sit in her locked car, hyperventilating, while her vision tunneled and her heart raced.
Marcus had evidence. Fake or real, it didn’t matter—he had enough to make people doubt her. To make her look like a liar.
And if he released it before they could release the truth about him—
The burner phone rang.
“I saw him talking to you.” Vincent’s voice was tight with fury. “What did he say?”
“He has evidence. Says he can prove I’m lying about the abuse. That I was a willing participant.” Paige was crying now. “He’s going to release it unless I give back everything you gave me.”
Vincent swore viciously. “He’s bluffing. He has to be.”
“What if he’s not? Vincent, what if he destroys my credibility before we can destroy him?”
“Then we move faster. We release everything tomorrow instead of waiting for the will reading.”
“That’s not enough time—”
“Then we make it enough.” Vincent’s voice was fierce. “Paige, listen to me. Marcus is desperate. He knows his time is up. He’s throwing everything at the wall hoping something sticks. But we have real evidence. Letters from our father. Victim statements. Bank records. The truth is on our side.”
“The truth didn’t save me before.”
“It will now. I promise you, it will now.” He paused. “Where are you?”
“My car. Church parking lot.”
“Stay there. I’m coming to you.”
“Vincent, no. Marcus might see—”
“I don’t care anymore. I’m done hiding. I’m done letting him terrorize you.” His voice was steel. “I’m coming. Ten minutes.”
He hung up before she could protest.
Paige sat in her car, shaking, watching the parking lot. She should leave. Should go home. Should not let Vincent risk being seen with her.
But she couldn’t move. Could only sit and wait and try to remember how to breathe.
Nine minutes later, Vincent’s car pulled up beside hers. He was out in seconds, pulling open her passenger door, sliding in beside her.
“Hey. Look at me.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
“He’s going to destroy me.”
“No. He’s not.” Vincent’s eyes were fierce. “We’re going to destroy him first. Together.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know. But you don’t have to be scared alone anymore.” He pulled her into his arms, and Paige let herself collapse against him.
They stayed like that for long minutes, Vincent holding her while she shook, whispering promises and reassurances she desperately wanted to believe.
“Tomorrow,” he said finally. “We do it tomorrow. I’ll call the press. The DA. Everyone. We release everything and let the chips fall.”
“And us?”
“What about us?”
Paige pulled back to look at him. “When this is over, when Marcus is arrested and your family name is destroyed and everyone knows what we did—what are we?”
Vincent was quiet for a moment. Then he kissed her. Soft and gentle and full of promise.
“We’re whatever we want to be,” he whispered against her lips. “Because we’ll finally be free.”
Paige kissed him back, desperate and needing, pouring everything she couldn’t say into that kiss. All her fear and hope and the love she wasn’t quite ready to admit.
When they broke apart, both breathless, Vincent rested his forehead against hers.
“I need to go. People are looking for me.” He touched her face. “Go home. Lock your doors. I’ll call you tonight and we’ll plan everything.”
“Be careful.”
“You too.” He kissed her once more, quick and fierce. Then he was gone, slipping back into his car and driving away.
Paige sat alone, lips still tingling, heart still racing.
Tomorrow. They’d do it tomorrow.
Either they’d win, or they’d lose everything.
But at least they’d go down fighting.
And somehow, that felt like victory enough.
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