Naomi listened, then said, “Emily, I’m glad the fundraiser reacted. That’s leverage. But you need to understand: if you go too far publicly, his attorney will argue defamation.”
“I’m not lying,” Emily said sharply.
“I know,” Naomi replied. “But defamation cases aren’t about truth alone. They’re about proof and damages and resources. He can bury you in court even if he loses.”
Emily’s throat tightened. “So I’m supposed to just let him—”
Naomi interrupted gently. “No,” she said. “I’m saying we do it smart. If we can identify the woman, we can warn her privately without violating the order.”
Emily’s pulse spiked. “Privately?”
Naomi continued, “Not you. Someone else. Hannah, for example. Or a community advocate. Or a clinic social worker. Someone who can say, ‘Be careful,’ without it being you contacting him or engaging directly.”
Emily exhaled. Her hands shook from adrenaline. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. How do we find her?”
Naomi paused. “Hannah’s already looking,” she said. “If she can identify her, we can figure out the safest way to warn her.”
Emily hung up and sat at the table, staring at the worn wood.
Ruth walked in slowly, wrapped in a sweater. “You look sick,” Ruth whispered.
Emily swallowed. “He’s already courting someone else,” she said.
Ruth’s face crumpled, grief and anger mixed. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, honey.”
Emily clenched her jaw. “I sent the statement to the fundraiser committee,” she said. “They pulled him.”
Ruth blinked, surprised. “You did that?”
Emily nodded. “Yes.”
Ruth’s hands trembled. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
Emily stood and wrapped her arms around her mother gently. “Me too,” she whispered. “But I’m more scared of staying quiet.”
Ruth held onto her, fragile but fierce in her own way. “You’re brave,” Ruth said.
Emily shook her head. “I’m just done,” she murmured into her mother’s hair. “I’m done being used.”
A week later, Hannah texted with a name.
Her name is Lily. Lily Sanderson. She works at the grocery store in Sun Prairie. She’s nineteen. Her mom’s sick. People say her dad ran out.
Emily’s chest went tight.
Nineteen.
Sick mom.
Dad gone.
It was Emily’s story with different faces.
Emily typed: Do you know if she’s seeing him?
Hannah replied: I think he’s pushing. He picked her up in that black car yesterday.
Emily’s pulse hammered.
She could picture it: Lily stepping into Thomas’s car because it was warm and expensive and promised safety.
Emily’s fingers flew:
Can you talk to her? Please. Tell her to be careful. Tell her he lied to me. Don’t mention me if you don’t want. Just—warn her.
Hannah paused, then replied:
I will. But she might not believe me. He’s charming.
Emily stared at the screen, swallowing panic.
He’s charming.
That was the problem. Thomas didn’t need force. He had polish. He had money. He had a story that made women feel noble for sacrificing.
Emily typed: If she doesn’t believe you, tell her to ask him for proof. Ask for the doctor report. Ask for a diagnosis in writing. If he’s really dying, he can show her.
Hannah replied: Okay.
Emily set the phone down, hands trembling.
That night, Emily sat with Ruth at the kitchen table. Ruth was trying to eat soup, but her hands shook.
Emily couldn’t stop watching the road through the window like she used to. Only now, she wasn’t waiting for hopelessness.
She was waiting for answers.
Around 9 p.m., Hannah called.
Emily answered immediately. “Hannah?”
Hannah’s voice was low. “I talked to her,” she said.
Emily’s heart pounded. “And?”
Hannah exhaled shakily. “She’s… she’s already halfway in,” she whispered. “He’s been telling her the same thing. One year. Wants a son. Wants to ‘leave something behind.’”
Emily closed her eyes. Her stomach churned.
Hannah continued, “At first she got defensive—said I was jealous, said I didn’t know him. Then I told her to ask for proof. I said if he’s dying, he can show you. She got quiet. Really quiet.”
Emily’s throat tightened. “Did she listen?”
Hannah hesitated. “She said she’d ask him,” she whispered. “But Emily… she also said her mom’s meds are behind. And he offered to pay.”
Emily’s chest felt like it was being crushed.
That was it. The hook.
Hannah’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know if I helped.”
Emily swallowed hard. “You did,” she said, though she wasn’t sure. “Thank you.”
She hung up and stared at the table, numb.
Ruth watched her carefully. “What happened?” Ruth asked.
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