My eyes snap up to find Judge standing in the doorway, his concern evident on his face.

“Nothing new,” I remark dryly.

He enters the room and examines the space. The scattered folders on my desk. The scotch from my breakfast and lunch. The monitors streaming a steady pattern of figures in front of me.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” he says solemnly.

When I don’t respond, he takes a seat across from me, studying me.

“Mercedes is fine,” he assures me. “She couldn’t be in better care.”

“I didn’t ask for a progress update.”

My fingers tap the glass of amber liquid. Judge watches me with the precision he is known for. He has always had an eerie ability to get under your skin, as if he can see into your soul and read your secrets like an open book. It’s what makes him so effective at his job.

“You may not have asked, but I believe it would do you well to know. She is healthy and safe. In time, I have no doubt she will blossom in my care.”

I nod tightly, unwilling to admit that he’s right. It does relieve me to hear it. But that relief is temporary at best because it changes nothing. Nothing will ever be the same again.

“Have you been to see Eli?” Judge asks.

“No.” I bring the glass tumbler to my lips, drinking the liquid in one long swallow.

“You always knew it was going to come down to this,” he says. “Why put it off any longer?”

When I look up at him, the torment must be evident on my face.

“Oh.” He frowns.

“Whatever you think you see, you don’t. Don’t make something out of nothing.”

“I didn’t say a word.” He scrubs his hand along his stubbled jaw.

“You never have to.”

He chuckles a little, but his mood sobers after a moment. When he rises to his feet again, he glances at the open sketchbook on my desk. The image of Ivy left half-finished.

“It seems you have a lot to consider, so I won’t waste any more of your time. But if I may…”

When I glance up at him, he offers me the closest thing to solace I have ever witnessed on his face.

“The choices are clear. But I think the question is, which can you live without? Your revenge… or your wife’s affection?”

He doesn’t wait for me to answer, and long after he’s gone, I’m still staring at the door, that question hanging over my head.

32

Ivy

It’s been two weeks since he locked me in here again. The light blocked again. I know because I’m counting meals. Three a day.

I’m angry. I’m tired. I’m tired of being so fucking angry. So confused. Heartsick.