I slap her across the face so hard my palm is stinging.

I have no idea how I got so close, but I slap the shit out of that bitch. The whole place gasps as I remove my mask and my wig.

“What the fuck?” the Carey woman says as she palms her red cheek.

“That’s enough.” I say it with confidence, one hundred percent in control.

“Grace,” Vaughn whispers. I smile up at him and he gives me a small one back. And then I step forward until I’m right in front of him, so close that I have to tip my head back to look him in the eye. I nod my head to the line of women. “I’ve seen that man they describe, but that’s not the man I married.”

“Grace,” he says again. But the screams from the movie cut him off. We both look up at the scene to see teenage Daisy get smacked across the face and fall to the floor. “Let’s go.”

He takes my hand and starts to lead me away, but I plan my feet firm and pull him back. “No. I’m not leaving.” I turn to look up at that film and I watch. I make the whole room watch as I am hit and kicked, and they really chose an Oscar-winning segment for this teaser, because just before it ends, I piss myself from fear.

“Please, Grace,” Vaughn pleads. “Let’s go.”

I turn to face the crowd instead. “Did you all enjoy that?” I ask them. “Is that what you came to see? Are you satisfied now?”

Vaughn takes my hand and leads me away. But when I pass the Carey person responsible for this, I stop again. “You got that film from him, didn’t you? My kidnapper contacted you before he took me and offered you that film.”

“I don’t reveal sources,” she says flatly.

“Well,” I say, turning to the crowd, “I’m so glad you were all so entertained by the images of me being abused as a little girl. You must all feel mighty superior right now.”

This time when Vaughn tugs on my hand, I let him lead me away.

We take the elevator to the roof and the blonde girl Vaughn came with, who is no longer wearing the houndstooth suit, but a slinky 40’s looking flapper dress, is waiting by his car.

“Did you get all that?” Vaughn asks her.

She smiles widely. “I got every second.”

“Grace, this is Marjorie. She’s a reporter for Everyday Celebrity Magazine.”

“Holy shit. I love Everyday Celebrity. When I lived in Denver I had a weekly subscription. I read you guys every week.”

“We like to call ourselves the ‘Real Celebrity Magazine’ because we deal in truth, not rumors,” the pretty blonde reporter says. “People trust that our stories are accurate. And this tonight, what Vaughn did… what you did… well, let’s just say, most of these people won’t have jobs this time next week, let alone be putting on this kind of show next year. Some of them might even go to jail.” She winks at Vaughn. “That’s your good news I promised, Vaughn. I have a detective friend with LAPD who’s been looking into some hacking cases and this footage I got tonight will certainly give him leverage with a judge when he starts asking for warrants.”

“Thank you. You’re a good friend, Marjorie. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but you’re fair with me. And that’s all I can ask for.” She smiles in response but his attention is already back to me. “Where’s your car, Grace?” Vaughn asks. “We need to get out of here.”

“Level three.”

“We’ll leave it here and pick it up tomorrow.”

And then I am ushered into the Porsche and I buckle myself in as Vaughn makes his way around to his side. He gets in and starts the engine as he drags his own belt across his shoulder.

“I just want to say—”

“No.” I stop him with a hand on his leg. “Please, don’t apologize. I love you, and that’s all there is to it. My love is not conditional on how you acted in the past. Just like your love is not conditional on what happened to me in the past. This is us, Vaughn. Like it or not. This is us. I am that little girl who watched her parents murdered in front of her and was brutalized for eight months by a crazy man. And you are that asshole who used women for sex and treated them like possessions. But that’s not who we are right now. People grow and learn. I don’t see you as the controlling asshole I met on the beach. I love you for the man you are today.”

He puts his hand over mine and squeezes, picking it up in the process. He raises it up to his mouth and presses his lips on my palm, ever so softly. “I love all parts of you, Grace. There is nothing about you I’d change. I love all the parts.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

#LifeIsTooShortToBeMiserableLikeYou

THREE WEEKS LATER

OF all the words Vaughn Asher has given me over the course of our relationship, it’s the ones back in his Porsche when we were leaving the Black Bash that stick with me. He loves all my parts.

I love all his parts too.

I know it was wrong for him to keep that video of DeeDee Cisco being abused from the police. But Marjorie and Everyday Celebrity Magazine took possession of it and used it to reopen the case of her death. Frankie Miller and Carey Keefe were both arrested last week.

Buzz Hollywood filed for bankruptcy.

The article Marjorie wrote for her magazine went to print two weeks ago and boy, you could almost hear the cheer coming from every Hollywood star who’s ever been hounded by the media.

That’s not to say they are all bad. Marjorie, for instance, is not bad. And Amy Stratton, the woman who hated Vaughn so much and who went to extraordinary lengths to ambush him with those ex-girlfriends at the Black Bash… she’s not evil either. She was looking for justice.

I hope she gets it with a new trial.

As for me?

I’m still looking for my purpose, but I’m getting closer. Rosa, that pregnant girl I picked up when I was lost in LA, inspired me. She made me think of all the times when I felt desperate as a teen. I was never pregnant and single at eighteen. And I got really lucky with a new family and a new life.

But it was a struggle. And there were many times when I just needed a little extra help. Bebe, of course, was that help most of the time. But I got other help too. Scholarships, for one. Obviously I never sold our farm to pay for college. I told that lie about selling a house to shut people up.

The truth is, I got a scholarship from the Colorado Sibling Fund. They are a non-profit organization who provide support for people whose siblings have been lost due to violent crime. They came to see me in the hospital that first year I was back. Before I ever got adopted, even. In fact, they were the ones responsible for bringing me out of my funk. People came to see me and talked about how they lost their siblings too. I wasn’t very nice to them, but they came anyway. And looking back, that was a turning point for me. They kept in contact with me, offering me that college scholarship when I was doing my senior year of homeschool.