My hands are shaking so bad I can barely grip the steering wheel. The GPS tracker on my phone shows Shane's location moving further away from the restaurant, and my heart is pounding like it's trying to escape my chest.

  "What the hell are you doing, Shane?" I mutter, yanking the wheel hard as I follow the blinking dot on my screen.

  After that nightmare at Crown Steakhouse with Stephanie, I've been calling Shane non-stop for the past twenty minutes. Straight to voicemail every time. The st thing I saw was him leaving with Olivia, Stephanie Bckwood's daughter. Jesus Christ. My son is dating the daughter of the most dangerous client I've ever had.

  The same client who just threatened my children.

  I press harder on the gas pedal, weaving through traffic like a madman. My mind races with horrible scenarios, Stephanie using Olivia to lure Shane somewhere isoted, using her daughter to get to me, to get to my family. The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

  "Please be okay, please be okay," I chant under my breath like a prayer.

  The GPS shows Shane's location moving toward our house in Revere.

  "It’s not eleven yet…"

  I make the turn onto our street, knuckles white against the steering wheel. And there it is, Olivia's sleek BMW parked right in my driveway, looking absurdly expensive next to Diane's beat-up Toyota.

  I sm on the brakes, park haphazardly behind the BMW, and practically fall out of my car in my rush to get inside. My breath comes in short, painful gasps. Cssic panic attack symptoms. I've had enough of them over the years to recognize the signs, but I can't stop to deal with it now.

  The front door is unlocked. I burst through it like the house is on fire.

  "Shane? SHANE!" My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, high and desperate.

  "In the kitchen, Dad!"

  I stumble through the house, nearly knocking over the side table in my haste. When I reach the kitchen, I freeze.

  There they are. Shane, Olivia, and Diane, sitting around our kitchen table, surrounded by Burger King wrappers. All three of them look up at me with startled expressions, mid-bite into their Whoppers.

  "Dad?" Shane asks, setting down his burger. "Did you leave early?"

  I rush over and wrap my arms around Shane first, then reach for Diane, pulling them both into a crushing hug. My heart's still pounding like a jackhammer, but I try to keep my breathing steady so they don't notice.

  "Dad, you're squeezing too hard," Diane protests, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

  I release them reluctantly, my hands still trembling slightly. "Sorry, just... gd to see you both."

  Olivia sits awkwardly at the table, her eyes downcast. She looks nothing like the confident girl who drove Shane home that first day. Now she seems small, vulnerable.

  "I'm really sorry about my mom, Mr. Gray," she says quietly. "She's really... intense."

  The fear in her voice sounds genuine. I study her face, looking for any sign that she's pying some role in her mother's schemes, but all I see is a scared young woman. The knot in my chest loosens just a fraction.

  I let out a long sigh. "It's fine, Olivia."

  I can't tell them what's really happening. Not yet. I don't even fully understand what I'm dealing with myself. If I tell them Stephanie threatened them, it might just make things worse.

  "Your mother had a meeting," I say instead, keeping my voice casual. "We ended up leaving not long after you two."

  Shane looks up at me, his brow furrowed with concern. "Ah, dang, I'm sorry, Dad. I would've gotten you something if I knew you were coming home."

  "That's okay," I assure him, finally managing to calm my breathing enough to sit down at the table with them.

  I look between Shane and Olivia, their faces so young, so unaware of the danger circling around them. "I know what I walked in on the other day was uncomfortable..."

  "What did you walk in on?" Diane interrupts, her eyebrows shooting up with interest.

  "Shut up," I snap, harsher than intended. Diane blinks in surprise but doesn't push it. "Sorry…"

  I turn back to Shane and Olivia. "But I want you both to know that you're always safe here, okay? This house is open to you whenever you need it."

  If I can keep them here, under my roof, I can keep an eye on them. Better than having Shane go to Olivia's house where Stephanie might be waiting.

  Shane gulps hard, his eyes darting to Olivia then back to me. "Dad, I'm sorry I haven't really talked to you about any of this stuff tely. I was just... so embarrassed about everything."

  "It's fine, Shane," I say, reaching across the table to touch his arm. "I just want you to feel like this house is a safe space, you know? Whatever's going on, whatever you're dealing with, you can always come to me."

  "You're not mad?" His voice sounds so small, like when he was little and worried about breaking something.

  "No, Shane. You're a good kid. I trust your judgment."

  Diane clears her throat loudly. "I really feel like I'm missing out on something important here."

  I turn to look at my daughter, seeing the concern behind her annoyed expression. "This is also a safe space for you too, Diane. Always has been."

  "I know, Dad..." She studies my face, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "Yeah, I'm fine." The lie comes easily, but I can tell she's not buying it. "I just... I gotta go make a quick phone call. Excuse me for a minute."

  I push back from the table, the chair legs scraping against the linoleum. My legs feel like rubber as I make my way to the front porch, closing the door firmly behind me.

  Once I'm alone, I finally let out a real breath, sucking in the cool night air like I've been underwater. My hands are still shaking as I pull out my phone. There's only one person I can call right now.

  I dial Lara's number, praying she picks up. One ring. Two rings. Three. Four. Five...

  "There's my best whore," Lara's voice finally comes through the line, casual as if we're catching up over coffee.

  In the background, I hear something. A woman's voice, desperate and pleading. I press the phone harder against my ear, wondering if I'm hearing things.

  "Hold on a sec," Lara says cheerfully. Then, muffled but still audible. "I'M ON THE FUCKING PHONE!"

  A scream tears through the speaker, followed by wet, gurgling sounds.

  "So what's up?" Lara asks, her voice returning to normal volume.

  I swallow hard, my mind barely registering whatever nightmare I just overheard. Right now, I have bigger problems.

  "Stephanie Bckwood just tracked me down," I manage to say, my voice cracking. "She threatened my kids."

  "Wait, what?" Lara's tone shifts instantly, that dangerous edge I know too well creeping in.

  "It's a long story, but..." I run a hand through my hair, gncing back at the house where my children sit unaware of the danger. "She said if I don't marry her, she could 'hurt my children very easily.'"

  "That rich cunt," Lara hisses, venom dripping from every sylble. "I'll send someone over for the night to watch your house."

  "I appreciate that," I say, relief washing over me despite the circumstances. "Can you talk her down?"

  "Will," she says, her voice oddly gentle now, "even if I can't, she's not taking La Reale's best whore."

  I close my eyes, letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Alright... thank you."

  "Gotta go, Will. I'll talk to you ter," Lara says abruptly, and I hear what sounds like metal scraping against concrete before the call ends.

  "Yeah..." I mutter to the dead line, slowly lowering my phone.

  I colpse into the porch chair, my legs finally giving out beneath me. The night air feels cool against my cmmy skin as I take several deep breaths. For the first time since I left that restaurant, I feel like I might actually survive this nightmare. Lara's got my back. She's sending someone to watch the house. Whatever Stephanie is pnning, she'll have to get through Lara first.

  I'm so lost in thought I don't notice Erin approaching until she's halfway up my walkway.

  "Hey, neighbor," she calls out, her tall frame silhouetted against the streetlights.

  "Hey," I reply, trying to sound casual despite the emotional tornado I've just weathered.

  Erin stops at the bottom of the porch steps, concern etched across her features. "You looked terrified when you walked into your house. I figured I'd check in on you."

  I can't help but chuckle at her directness. "What, were you watching for me or something?"

  "No," she says, shaking her head with a small smile. "You kinda just came to a screeching halt when you parked so I figured I'd look."

  I nod, appreciating her concern but knowing I can't drag her into this mess. "It's nothing to worry about."

  She climbs the steps and leans against the porch railing, unconvinced. "Will, come on..."

  "I don't want to get you involved, Erin," I say firmly, meeting her eyes.

  She nods slowly, understanding in her gaze. "I don't mind."

  The temptation to tell her everything is overwhelming. To share this burden, to have someone else know what I'm facing. But I can't. I won't put her in danger too.

  "It's for the best if I don’t."