I catch the warmth in her tone. An invitation layered with more than scheduling. Marcella follows Ronni into the hallway.
Connor waits a beat. Then turns to me. Before I can say anything, he hauls me into a hug—tight and solid, like he’s holding me together with sheer force of will.
“You’re my wee baby brother,” he mutters. “You’re not going through this alone.” He pulls back and plants his hands on both my shoulders. “Ronni and I are covering this. Legal, PR, whatever else comes down the line.”
“Connor, I can’t—”
“You will,” he says definitively. “Later. When you’re through it. When you’re not working sixteen-hour days on a resident’s salary and staring down a wall of student loans. You pay me back when you’re steady. When you’re standing on your own feet.”
I nod. Unable to speak.
His expression softens. “You’re not the first McGloughlin to weather a scandal, you know.”
“Feels different when it’s your entire future on the line.” I let out a half laugh.
“Aye, True.” He doesn’t flinch. “You’ve got us.” He looks toward the hall, where Marcella’s deep in conversation with Ronni. “Marcella. Having her by your side matters.”
“It does,” I agree. “Shedoes.”
Connor gives me one last pat on the back. “Then let’s make sure you come out of this with everything intact.”
I nod again, firmer this time. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
For the first time since I found out what Caldwell was planning, I believe I might actually have a chance.
I’m not alone in this. Not anymore.
Marcella. Connor. My family. My future.
Caldwell can come for me—he’ll find all of us.
I feel empowered to reclaim everything Caldwell tried to steal.
I’ve never felt stronger.
thirty-three
Marcella
“Let’sstealaminute?”
Ronni’s hand touches my arm—light, but purposeful.
It’s phrased like an invitation. I know better.
She’s offering something—wisdom, maybe a lifeline.
I’d be a fool not to take it.
I follow her out of the sitting room, taking a glance back at Seamus who is talking to his brother, Connor. They’re angled slightly away from us now. Seamus is nodding, his expression tight, like he’s forcing composure he doesn’t actually feel. His hand grips the armrest like he might crack it. Whatever Connor’s saying, it’s hitting deep.
My man is unraveling, quietly and with restraint. I feel helpless.
Ronni gives my arm a small tug, leading me through the open doorway and into the kitchen, polished and warmly lit. There’s purpose behind her unhurried steps. This isn’t small talk. She wanted me away from Seamus for a reason.
Or, more likely, she wanted to give the brothers space for a one-on-one. Older brother to younger.
Ronni stops by one of her kitchen islands and leans back against it, arms folded loosely across her chest. Her posture is relaxed yet her eyes are sharp. “Tell me the truth. Are you okay?”
