“Court of law, it wouldn’t have mattered. If they had a mom who said, instead, that her daughter attacked her, stuffed her in a car, and had her taken away by strangers, and she waltzed into a court to testify to that, that’s all they would’ve needed. Quinn would get off. Her charges would be dropped and there’d be no hold for why she couldn’t still see her kids, and that means, she’d still have an opening to get back in with Peter.”

  “But why?”

  I was ignoring the bullshit about setting Bailey up and focusing on the endgame.

  Chase shook his head. “It’s simple. Money.”

  Jesus.

  All the pieces. My grandfather had thought of it all.

  But there was one more piece missing.

  “Who’s the other inside person?” I asked.

  Chase gave me a hard look. “The next person who I’m fairly certain is about to be called as a character witness for Quinn, who’s supposed to also collaborate against Bailey’s case, saying she saw Peter’s estranged daughter doing weird shit, maybe even attacking her personally.”

  If they had been successful in turning Chrissy, then added a second witness to testify to the same argument, it would work. Quinn would walk free. Bailey would be implicated, at least in public opinion, because those transcripts would get out. Press was there. Quinn’s lawyers would throw a press party.

  “Who is it?”

  “Quinn’s sister. Payton.”

  FIFTY-FIVE

  Bailey

  “All rise.”

  We rose as the judge came in, then sat when we were allowed. I didn’t understand why today was the day Chrissy insisted we come to Quinn’s trial. I’d not been allowed in the other days, and most of it had been kept hush-hush. They talked about it on the local news every day, but that’d been the extent of my knowledge. But today, for some reason, was the day Chrissy was adamant we attend. She put everything in motion, arguing with the lawyers until finally it was allowed. On any other day, yes. I would’ve loved to go. I would’ve been curious about what was being said, what was happening. But today? Peter was arrested the day before, and not for something he did but for something I did.

  That was more important.

  Chrissy was arguing with our lawyer for us to come here, and right behind her, I was arguing with him about why he wasn’t doing more to get Peter released from custody.

  Apparently, the whole thing took time. Those were his words.

  But we were here, in court, definitely not sitting behind Quinn’s side.

  Since I was here and thinking on all of this, I gave my mother a side-eye, because when had she decided to take up the torch for anything? I mean, post her not-murder/kidnapping? Because she hadn’t been like this since Kash brought her back home. She’d been traumatized and quiet. Now I saw it in the way she was sitting firm and upright. I saw it in how her eyes were fierce and focused. Her mouth was set and determined.

  Her chin was tight.

  Her focus was entirely on someone else.

  I followed her gaze, until it landed on Payton Callas.

  That made me pause, too, because why? Why would Chrissy suddenly care about Seraphina and Cyclone’s aunt so much? As far as I knew, there’d been no interaction between them at the house. If Chrissy came into a room, Payton left. Whatever the case, I had a feeling the whole building could burn down around Chrissy and Payton and still my mother’s attention wouldn’t waver from Quinn’s sister.

  Weird.

  Eerie, too.

  The first witness was called.

  “The defense calls Payton Callas to the stand, Your Honor.”

  “Motherfucker,” Matt hissed next to me. He shot me a look. “We let her go. She met Quinn and we didn’t say a word.”

  Matt leaned forward next to me, his elbows on his knees.

  Quinn’s team, not the prosecution, had called Payton. What was happening?

  She walked up, and I hadn’t noted what she was wearing earlier. I hadn’t cared. But I sure cared now. A trench pencil skirt. The colors were dark orange. Her blouse was the same color, with a black blazer over the top. Her hair was up in a bun, set behind her head. Her makeup was on, but muted. She had the natural look going on. She was demure.

  Then again, Payton was often like that. She was a quiet, in-the-background kind of person and always had been.

  That was, until she got on the stand.

  When she climbed up there, was sworn in, there was something more to her. A spark? No … I was thinking on it, watching how she looked at my mother and swept her gaze to Quinn. Looking at her sister, her head lowered back down. Her shoulders slumped forward.

  “Miss Callas, what is your relationship to my client?”

  Payton wet her lips, leaned forward, and spoke into the microphone. “She’s my sister.”

  It was the expected answer. The lawyer nodded, looking down for his next question.

  “Um…” Payton’s throat moved as she swallowed. Her mask faltered, just for a bit. Some of the strength slipped, but as if she needed to think of something to harden her again, she did. Her whole face grew tighter, more resolved. She cleared her throat, speaking more clearly into the microphone. “We don’t get along.”

  The lawyer went rigid.

  Someone gasped. A whole buzz went through the room.

  Quinn shot forward in her seat, but I couldn’t fully see her face. Two of her lawyers blocked her from view.

  I glanced at my mom. Her eyes were trained on Payton. They were narrowed now.

  “Excuse me?” This from the lawyer. He clipped out those words. “Can you reiterate?”

  “We don’t get along.”

  He stared at her, hard.

  She stared right back, just as hard.

  A power battle was unfolding right before us.

  “Miss Callas, didn’t you agree to testify today on behalf of your sister?”

  “I did, yes, but that doesn’t mean we get along.”

  The lawyer turned, looked at Quinn, then glanced at the rest of his team, which was having a silent conversation about whether he should continue questioning her.

  But one of the lawyers gave a small nod, and the questioning lawyer turned back to Payton. “Miss Callas, isn’t it true that you have chronic depression?”

  She bit down on her lip before jerking her head in a nod. “Yes, I do.”

  “And it’s so bad that you’ve had to be hospitalized a dozen times over the last ten years.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Twenty times?” God. He was so condescending.

  “No. Twenty years.” She wasn’t affected, still speaking clearly. There wasn’t a flicker of remorse on her face. “Since I was a child, I’ve struggled with depression. I’ve been hospitalized for it thirteen times over the last twenty years.”

  “And is that something you’re proud of?”

  Her nostrils flared, just slightly. “It’s who I am. I can’t change me. I’ve been trying; that’s the purpose for those hospital visits. I’m proud that I’ve sought help.”

  “Right.” The lawyer sounded dejected, as if he wasn’t sure where to go from there. A cough. He leaned forward on the podium. “Miss Callas, tell us about your relationship with Bailey Hayes.”

  Another rip cord of reactions snapped through the room, and I knew it, because I felt it. It landed on me, smacking me hard in the chest.

  This whole case was about me, but a trickle of dread slid down my spine, pooling at the bottom.

  Payton found me in the room. Her eyes narrowed, briefly, before sliding to look at my mother, and whatever look they shared, Payton suddenly looked like she was on a mission. Her eyes grew keen. The corners of her mouth turned up, just slightly.

  “I don’t really know Miss Hayes. Bailey Hayes.”

  The lawyer’s head jerked back, and his hands clenched around the sides of the podium. He didn’t look at his team this time. His head inclined. “Excuse me?”

  She repeated, “I don’t really know Bailey Hayes.” She went on to explain, “Bailey wasn’t living at the Chesapeake when I was first called to come and help take care of Seraphina and Cyclone.”

  “Cyclone?”

  “Curt Francis. Cyclone is his nickname.”

  “And the Chesapeake is in reference to…”

  “To the Francis family’s main home. It’s a large estate and it was given a name.”

  “I see.” But the lawyer’s tone wasn’t sounding sure. His head twisted, taking in his team once more. His papers were in his hand, his fist clenching around them for a moment. “Your Honor, we’re done with the witness.”

  The judge nodded, turning to the prosecution. It was now their turn to question her, and they did. The district attorney hopped up, and her first question was out even before she got behind the podium. “Miss Callas, please tell us more about your relationship with your sister.”

  “Objection!”

  Before the judge could rule, the district attorney spoke. “It was introduced in their questioning. I can explore it.”

  The judge nodded, looking as if he was going to say the same thing. “Overruled. Proceed, counselor.”

  She cleared her throat, taking on the same posture that the defense lawyer had used—hands tight on the podium, head forward—but with her, it was a whole different feel. She was eager. Her next question came out and you could hear her salivating for the answer. “Payton, please tell us about your relationship with the defendant.”

  “Quinn and I have never gotten along.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s not a good person.”

  “Objection!”

  The two sides argued over this point until the judge sighed and asked Payton to keep her personal opinion of her sister from her answers. “Only facts, Miss Callas. That would be more helpful.”

  She nodded, her eyes earnest. “Okay, well then … fact. My sister would lock me in the closet when she wanted to spend time with her friends.”

  “Objectio—”

  The judge raised his hand. “She can testify. It’s why you called her here.” He nodded to Payton. “Proceed.”

  “Fact.” She didn’t miss a beat. “Our father was a gambler. He was old-school. To pay off his debt, he sent Quinn and myself to live in Greece with someone, and when we were there, Quinn became a big partier. That’s when she’d lock me in a closet, but…” Her mouth parted and she faltered.

  “But what, Miss Callas?”

  Payton’s eyes were glued to Quinn now. “But…” She blinked rapidly and her head raised up. “But I think she did it somewhat to protect me.”

  Quinn’s lawyer had started to stand, but hearing the rest, he sat back down.

  The DA glanced over, her eyebrows up. “Protect you from whom, Miss Callas?”

  “From the men who were there where we were staying.”

  Oh no.

  I got it.

  It was all coming together, and I slid down in the bench.

  I didn’t think I wanted to hear this.

  My stomach began tightening up, knotting.

  “Miss Callas, whose place was it that you and your sister were staying at?”

  She didn’t answer.

  A look came over her. It was a slow slide, and her eyes closed, but I saw it. Everyone saw it. Terror. I knew who she was going to say, but for a moment I didn’t think she was going to do it. It was all leading there, to him.

  “Calhoun Bas—”

  “Objection! This line of questioning has nothing to do with Ms. Callas’s case. I move for the entire line of questioning to be stricken and tossed out.”

  The DA didn’t waste time, either. She shot back, “Miss Callas was brought as their witness. They opened the line of questioning by asking about her relationship with the defendant. I think it bears exploration, Your Honor.”

  The judge was silent, taking in both lawyers before his gaze searched the room.

  He found me, his eyes narrowed. His head raised. He was scanning the entire room.

  Matt leaned over, whispering, “I think he’s looking for Kash.”

  Right. My lover, who was now “on the run,” though I hadn’t had time to digest that, either. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t respond.

  “I’m going to allow it.”

  “Your Honor!”

  He raised his hand up, silencing the defense. “I want to see where this goes.” He nodded to Payton. “Keep going, Miss Callas, but bailiff, I’d like more security guards added to the room.”

  Two men left the room and Payton closed her eyes.

  “Miss Callas.” His tone was gentle.

  She opened her eyes.

  He nodded, his entire demeanor softening. “You’re safe. You can say what you need to say in here.”

  Her head dipped in an abrupt nod back, her eyes glistening. She closed them, then reopened them, and she swiped at her cheek quickly before leaning forward.

  She started, and once she got going, she told everything.

  She and Quinn were “sold” to Calhoun when they were young.

  They were raised in Calhoun’s main house, but he treated them almost as if they were his daughters.

  Quinn had been angry, rebellious. She partied, acted out.

  Not Payton. She withdrew.

  She learned that Quinn had begun working for Calhoun. She was taken from the home and she didn’t see her sister for two years.

  “Where did you see your sister again?”

  “In California.”

  The DA’s head straightened at that information.

  Even the judge looked shocked.

  Payton continued, “I was sent to live with her, but Calhoun asked me to watch her.”

  A chair scraped against the floor over at Quinn’s table. There was a hissing sound, and the judge fixed them with a glare. “Silence, Ms. Callas. Counsel, control your client.”

  He gave Payton another nod.

  “She—uh—Quinn was different when I went to live with her. She was more smooth, I guess. More seductive. We lived there for a few years, and that’s when she met Peter Francis.” She stopped, a sudden stricken look coming over her. She jerked back in her seat.

  “Miss Callas?” This from the DA. “How was your sister when she met Peter Francis?”

  “Um, my relationship with my sister was almost nonexistent once she married Peter. I remained behind in California and she moved to Chicago to be with him.”

  “Miss Callas, weren’t you instructed to watch your sister for Mr. Bastian?”

  “I was, but Quinn wouldn’t let me come with her, and Calhoun never contacted me. I don’t think he really put much stock in me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he never did. He only gave Quinn attention.” Her cheeks got red and her head ducked down briefly. “She’s prettier than me. That’s mostly all Calhoun cared about, a woman’s looks.”

  No one commented on that, though to be fair to Payton, she wasn’t not pretty. She was. She just wasn’t stunning like Quinn, but if she’d said this in a room where I could’ve spoken up, I would’ve told her it was more than that. Payton looked submissive. She was submissive. Someone like Calhoun Bastian would’ve disregarded her as anyone or anything useful to him.

  “Miss Callas, I’d like to ask the reason the defense called you as a witness today. What were you supposed to say for them?”

  “Objectio—”

  “Overruled.” The judge’s tone was flat and final. He wasn’t messing around.

  “I—” A sheen of tears came into her eyes, and she searched me out. Me? I felt zapped by her look, not understanding it. An almost apologetic look flared before she looked at Quinn, the same sheen of tears just thickening then. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I know you thought I was going to come in and testify for you, but I can’t.” Her voice grew hoarse. She looked at the DA. “Quinn’s team wanted me to testify that I’d seen Bailey Hayes abusing her mother.”

  Shock spread through me, piercing me in the chest.

  I couldn’t breathe for a second.

  A whisper went through the room, but Payton was continuing. “Since Chrissy Hayes was found alive, I was given orders to discredit anything Chrissy Hayes would say. I was supposed to talk about how I saw her daughter hit her on three different occasions. I was supposed to talk about the language Bailey would use with her mother, how I had overheard Bailey blackmailing her mother into being a loving and doting mother.”

  The DA didn’t respond at first. She was just as stiff as I was. Then she coughed, and her voice came out strangled. “And for the record, have you observed any of these events?”

  “None. Not one.”

  “And what was the reason you were given for providing those lies to the court today?”

  “I wasn’t told the reason, just that that’s what I was supposed to say.” She flinched, her eyes so bleak for a moment, before she turned to her sister and said, “I can’t do it, Quinn. I can’t say it. I can’t incriminate Bailey or Chrissy because you and I both know that you did try to kidnap Bailey Hayes. Calhoun was upset with you, I get that, but he also doesn’t know the truth. You shouldn’t have lied to him, and you shouldn’t have underestimated a mother’s love for her son.”

  “Shut up!” Quinn sprang up, starting to go over the table. “Shut up—”

  All hell broke loose in the court.

  Guards streamed in from every corner of the room. Four of them surged on Quinn, getting her under control.

  “Miss Callas, can you please explain your last statement to the court?”

  “Quinn was always supposed to seduce Peter Francis for Calhoun Bastian. But he didn’t trust her to keep her ‘charge’ in control until she had Cyclone, Curt Francis.” Both head lawyers were standing, but Payton took over. She dipped her head down so she could be heard better through the microphone. “Calhoun Bastian only sees males as important, but Quinn couldn’t get pregnant after Seraphina. She lied to Calhoun when she told him that Cyclone was hers. He wasn’t.”

  A pause.

  A surreal feel came over the room, as if everyone knew what she was about to say was going to change lives, and an awareness spread. Everyone quieted. Everyone waited.