Chapter 10: Eleven Months

At five in the morning, I sat on the exam table in his shirt and told him I wasn't going to the police.

Quincy had been pacing in his trousers with his phone in his hand.

"They drugged you for a year," he said. "That's a crime."

He held up his phone. "Give me an hour and a detective, and they'll be in handcuffs by lunch."

"And then what?"

"Then they're in prison."

"And then Colin gets a quiet arrest and his mother gets a lawyer."

I held the cuffs of his shirt in my fists. "Lacey cries on the news and says it was a misunderstanding."

"You have a better plan."

"I want a public one."

He stopped pacing.

"They filmed me on a boardroom floor," I said. "Everyone saw it. Everyone laughed."

I lifted my chin. "I want the same people in the same room when it's their turn."

"That may take weeks."

"Then it takes weeks."

He rubbed his jaw. "To do that, you'd have to go home. Sleep in that house. Pretend to drink the tea."

"I know."

"I don't like it."

"You don't get to like it."

It came out sharper than I meant.

"Quincy, last week my paycheck, my medical leave and my diagnosis all sat under your signature. I was a file on your desk."

His face went still.

"I know what that was," he said quietly.

"Do you? I've spent a year with a husband deciding what I felt and a best friend deciding what I swallowed."

My voice shook. "I can't be the woman whose life sits in someone else's hand again. Even yours."

He crossed the room in three steps and stopped in front of me.

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