Chapter 42: Sleepless in Seattle - Christian's POV

Standing on the tarmac and watching Anastasia's plane depart the following afternoon was bittersweet. I knew she needed to get away and that the retreat she would have in Hawaii would be good for her, but damn, I was going to miss her. How was I ever going to get a night's sleep without her?

I still wasn't happy with the small quantity that Ana was eating, which I let her know at breakfast that morning. Gail had cooked her famous egg white omelette, which she'd filled with red and yellow peppers, great for Ana's recovery. Ana hadn't even eaten half of it. She insisted that she couldn't eat another bite. I was worried that she was losing weight. She needed to eat to regain her strength.

"Geez, Christian, I'm not even gone yet, and you're already acting like an angry tyrant," Ana quipped.

I whispered in her ear, so nobody else could hear, "Careful there, princess. Even vanilla relationships can have spanking. And I'll be very happy to prove it to you when you're healthy enough and back from your trip." This brought a smile to my girl's face. She thought I was joking. I'd show her how serious I was when the time came if she didn't start eating more.

Christina was another story... that child ate like a horse, which I was delighted to see. She ate her bowl of oatmeal all by herself, which Ana praised her for. Christina responded to the praise by throwing her blueberries at Ana, which Ana surprised her by catching in her mouth. It was adorable. Both of them were so fucking adorable. Ana didn't realize what a wonderful mother she already was. She was going to be OK. She just needed time to heal, but then she was going to be OK. I could see how saying goodbye to Christina choked her up. Leaving hadn't been easy for her. I wish I could have convinced her to stay, but I knew she needed the time away for her own peace of mind. When she'd had the meltdown and destroyed the library, and then didn't even remember doing it, I knew that she needed to leave Seattle for a few days, for her own mental health.

I wasn't sure how she was going to receive her new CPO that I had Taylor hire for her. For one thing, he wasn't nicknamed "De'Andre the Giant" for nothing. He was at least six and a half feet tall, and he was built like a freight train. For another thing, he was from East Saint Louis, Illinois, and had the accent... and the street-smarts... to prove it. Taylor had vetted him very thoroughly, so I knew things about his background that he probably thought nobody knew, like the fact that he had been involved in a gang war when he was only nine years old. He'd been shot in the leg, and two of his brothers had been killed. He'd determined from then on to stay away from gangs, no matter what kind of shit people said about him. He'd graduated at the top of his class, and then gone straight into the Marines. Taylor knew some of his superiors, and according to them, he had a stellar reputation. Clean as a whistle and sharp as a tack. Yes, he'd do well for Ana.

Their introduction went off without a hitch. They both seemed respectful of the other. Time would tell how well they got along. The hitch, surprisingly, came with my own new CPO, which Ana had insisted that I hire. Taylor needed to go with Ana to Hawaii to vet local security for her house there... I insisted on having guards patrolling the property in addition to her two CPOs... so that left me with the new guy, whom I hadn't even met yet, until that morning. Nicholas Peres didn't look much older than fifteen or sixteen.

"How old are you?" was the first question I asked when Taylor introduced him.

"I'm twenty-five, sir," he answered. I considered asking to see his drivers license to verify, but that would have insulted Taylor's intelligence, since he'd been the one to hire this kid. However, I did spend the next half hour questioning him on his experience, which he actually seemed to have, despite his young age.

Finally, Taylor interrupted us. "Sir, do I need to remind you... Mr. Peres is only two and a half years younger than... you."

"I get it," Peres said. "It's the baby-face. I get carded everywhere I go."

"Carded for what?" I asked suspiciously. I didn't want an alcoholic or a gambler in my private security force.

"Last time... it was for a rated-R movie," he laughed. I didn't like this guy's informality. I didn't like this guy. But I didn't have much of a choice, since I needed Taylor in Hawaii more. Ryan was in charge of Christina now, and Reynolds was dead. All the rest of my staff were new, and they were all already assigned to other family members, whom I didn't trust this guy to guard safely. I was stuck with him for the next day or two, until Taylor returned.

I had three other major tasks to take care of for Ana before she departed. First, I needed to talk her nurse into going with her to Hawaii, which I wasn't sure was even possible because I didn't know what other responsibilities Mrs. Alifo had in addition to Ana. Besides that, I needed to talk to Dad about that fucker Jose Rodriguez before I left to take Ana to the airport. And then, I needed to get rid of the fucking paparazzi who were constantly at the gate of Grey Manor.

Veronica Alifo turned out to be an easy person to convince. It turned out, Ana was her only patient at the moment. She spent the rest of her time helping her son run his restaurant. I recognized the name of the restaurant and knew the food there was decent. Mrs. Alifo was a good cook. She could make sure Ana ate properly. And she was more than willing to go, because she said that she had grown fond of Ana. I knew the feeling was mutual, so this was a major win.

Talking Dad into giving me Jose Rodriguez's work address turned out to be a much more difficult task.

"What are you planning to do, Christian?" Dad asked suspiciously.

"I'm not going to commit murder, if that's what you're afraid of, Dad," I assured him. "I just want to... shake him up a little. And I want to make sure he doesn't sell those fucking photos. She's been through enough, Dad. No more."

"I agree with you there, son, but I'm not convinced that your confronting Mr. Rodriguez is the best approach."

It took me over an hour to convince Dad to let me have the address. I had to swear an oath that I wouldn't touch a hair on the fucker's head. I also had to promise Dad that I would tell him every detail about the meeting afterwards. He still wasn't happy to share the information, but he knew I wouldn't give up until I got it.

That done, the last major task to accomplish before getting Ana to the airport was getting the fucking paparazzi off her tail. I used my own PR staff and GEH plane to help stage a fake departure. Even Kate helped plant the rumor that Ana was headed to Arizona... or New Mexico. Anyway, when we left, it appeared to anyone still watching that it was just me headed into work, like I did everyday. With the tinted windows in the back of the SUV, nobody could see Ana seated next to me.

Once Ana's plane was in the sky, I didn't waste another minute going to pay a visit to Jose fucking Rodriguez. When we pulled into the parking lot of McKinley Gallery, I instructed Peres to stay in the car.

"Is that the best idea, sir?" he questioned me.

"Excuse me?" I asked. Who the hell did this kid thing he was? What was Taylor thinking hiring someone who would question his boss's orders on the very first day on the job?

"Pardon me, sir, but it's just that... I gave Taylor my word that I wouldn't let you kill this bastard. Wouldn't blame you for wanting to. Sir. But I'm supposed to protect you from getting arrested. Taylor's words... if the boss ends up in the slammer, I'm fired."

It was almost funny, but I didn't have much of a sense of humor at the moment. "You will stay in the fucking car. If I am not back in twenty minutes, then you have permission to come looking for me."

"Yes, sir," he responded. He looked straight ahead, no eye contact. I liked this response better, except I felt like the kid was making fun of me. Damn it. I hoped it didn't take Taylor long to work out the security details in Hawaii and get his ass back here. At the very least, this kid needed some on-the-job training.

I expected to be greeted by a receptionist when I entered McKinley Gallery, but no such luck. The front reception area was deserted. There was mail in two piles on a desk, and it looked like someone had been interrupted in the process of going through it. There was an open can of diet soda next to an ancient desktop computer. The office was clean, but the furniture was cheap and uninviting.

At first, I wondered if I was at the wrong place, but I knew this was the address where Dad had sent the courier this morning, who reported that Rodriquez had personally signed for the letter. Dad hadn't wasted any time serving his ass. As I walked towards the hallway, I almost called out for someone, but before I had a chance, I heard voices coming from a back office.

A female voice was angry. "Jose, how could you? You took the pictures without her knowledge? And you never even told her? Then you lied to Playboy and told them you had her permission? Did I get all that correct?"

"When you put it all like that, it sounds..." he started, but she cut him off.

"It sounds low. Really fucking low. I didn't think you were the kind of person to do such a thing. I respected you. I helped you get this job because I thought you had a strong work ethic. But you've just blown all of that out of the water."

"I'm sorry, Shelly. I was... desperate. My career is going nowhere. I've got college loans that I can't pay. I'm about to be evicted from my apartment. I thought... if Playboy had bought my photos, it would have given me the boost I needed. And I honestly didn't think she'd care. She's into... kinky shit. And her picture is in all these other magazines. I thought maybe she'd welcome..."

"You can't be fucking serious!" the woman shouted. "She's Anastasia Steele, you idiot! She's one of the most powerful business leaders in the world, and you thought she'd welcome naked pictures of herself in Playboy? Are you really that stupid?"

"Hey, Playboy publishes some pretty good articles," he objected.

"Oh, my God!" the woman exclaimed. "You really are that stupid. And... on top of sending them photos of her... you had to choose the worst timing you possibly could! Didn't you know that she'd just been raped?"

"I didn't know," he answered. "I sent the email before I saw any news about that. It took some time for them to get back to me, and all the news about that came out in the meantime."

"And it didn't occur to you that you should call Playboy and let them know you'd made a mistake?" she asked incredulously.

He mumbled something but then said clearly, "I needed the money. I still need money."

I decided it was time to make my presence known. I walked to the open doorway and demanded, "How much?" I wanted to know what he'd thought they were going to pay him, not that I intended for the bastard to get a red cent.

Both of them were startled as they looked at me in alarm. And then I saw the alarm on the woman's face turn to shock. "Holy shit! You're Christian Grey!"

"Oh, shit," Jose muttered under his breath.

"Yes, and you are?" I asked the woman impatiently.

"I am Shelly Tang, and I run this... gallery. And this person here... I'm guessing he's why you're here. So... I'll just... leave you to it." She gave Jose one last look of disdain before she left the room.

We were in a small conference room, with just a cheap rectangular table and a few metal chairs. Both of them had been standing when I walked in, but after Shelly left, I took a seat at the table, sat back, and stared at the idiot.

"Jose Rodriguez," I spat, not as a question but more as a demand. "I have one question."

He stood there, paralyzed, staring at me in fear. Yes, fear was good. I hoped he pissed his pants. My Dom voice still came in handy, even if I wasn't a Dom anymore. He swallowed hard before he asked, trying to sound brave, "What would that be?"

"How do you sleep at night?" I asked. I continued to stare at him. Yes, this face had intimidated some of the strongest business leaders in the world. And it was doing the job now.

His eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"How do you sleep?" I repeated. "Knowing that you had a chance to be with one of the most powerful, most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing women in the world? And she actually chose to be with you. And you... you couldn't even make her come. Is your dick really that pathetic, that you couldn't even bring her to orgasm, not even once? How do you live with yourself, being that pathetic? And even if your limp excuse for a dick was too small to get her off, you could have used your hands or tongue, you idiot, but you chose not to. You've got to be one of the most selfish pricks in the world."

"Hey... just a minute!" The little shit was getting defensive. "What's this about? What the hell did she tell you?"

"You selfish asshole, you didn't even try to satisfy her, but instead, you took advantage of her goodness, and you violated her trust by taking pictures of her while she slept. She slept in your bed... after getting you off... and you couldn't even meet her needs, but instead you violated her! You're just as bad as that fucking monster that raped her as he held a knife to her throat!"

Now he looked terrified. "I would never...!"

"But you DID!" I shouted, as I rose to my feet. "YOU VIOLATED HER!" I got in his face as I continued, "Tell me this... why didn't you ever tell her that you'd taken those photos of her?"

"I d...d...didn't think..." he stuttered.

"YOU DIDN'T THINK!" I shouted again as I slammed my fist on the table. I wanted to hit him, but I held back. I'd promised Dad. There would be no physical violence here today, no matter how badly I wanted to hurt this fucking moron.

"Sit down, Mr. Rodriguez," I demanded. He obeyed me without hesitation. "Let me do some thinking for you, since you're incapable of doing it yourself." I took the seat across from him and continued, "Number one, you are going to delete all of the images you have in your possession of Anastasia Steele. All of them. The nude ones as well as the clothed ones. I am a very powerful man, Mr. Rodriguez. I have resources that you can't even imagine. I will know if you held anything back."

"What if I..." he said in a challenging tone.

"Don't even think about it, you stupid shit," I interrupted. "No... do it. I dare you. I'd love to have a reason to end you, Mr. Rodriguez. It sounds like you don't have much of a career as it is. You won't be able to get a job bagging groceries at Safeway if you cross me."

The fear in his eyes showed that he believed me. "Fine. I'll do it," he muttered.

"See, you actually are capable of thinking. Second, you will hand over any printed photos you have of Anastasia Steele. Again, this includes not only the nude ones but all of them."

"How will you know...?" he tried to challenge me again.

"Mr. Rodriguez, you're forgetting to think again. I know you aren't accustomed to being around powerful people, and even when you had one as special as Anastasia Steele, you didn't even know what to do with her, but let me assure you, powerful people have resources that you cannot even imagine. Someone like you should NEVER try to cross someone like me. I'll end you before you can even take your next breath."

"Are you threatening my life, Mr. Grey?" he asked with a mixture of fear and threat.

"Why would I do anything so ridiculous?" I asked him tauntingly. "Your life is not worth threatening."

My words seem to shake him, and the stupid shit got teary-eyed. "I needed money," he told me with defeat.

I stared at him without an ounce of empathy. "So you tried to sell naked pictures of your ex-girlfriend to Playboy Magazine? Your ex-girlfriend, who happens to be one of the most powerful business minds in the world... and you didn't think she'd want to know about it first? Just how stupid can one person possibly be?"

"You're right... I should have told her," he admitted.

"Hell, you could have at least tried blackmail first. Although it wouldn't have turned out any better for you. But if you'd been nice about it, I might have bought them from you, just to prevent her the pain you've caused her."

"I wasn't trying to hurt her," he objected. "I didn't..."

"YOU DIDN'T THINK," I shouted again. "Yes, I know. You have shit for brains. I know. You thought that since she admitted to the country that she likes sex that she'd want to put herself on display for the whole country."

"It wasn't like that!" he insisted.

"Well, how the hell was it, then? You saw her interview with me, and you thought, 'hey, she's talking about sex, and I have sexy photos of her.' You thought she was your cash cow. But didn't you ever wonder why she always dresses the way she does, with her modest business suits, her hair pinned up, and those hideous glasses she used to always wear? Did you never stop to ask yourself what kind of image she wanted, and whether she'd want to show her body off to the world? And even if she did... should that not have been her own choice, not one for you to make for her?"

"I wasn't trying to..." he tried to say, but I stopped him.

"And you couldn't have chosen a worse time, you fucking moron. She was RAPED! Did you see it? Did you watch the fucking live-stream?"

"No!" he insisted. "I didn't know anything about that!"

"It's been all over the media for the past couple of weeks! How could you possibly have missed it?" I challenged him.

"No... I heard about it... after it happened. It's awful. I feel sorry for her. But I didn't have anything to do with it."

"But you still thought there was nothing wrong with selling her naked photos?" I asked him incredulously. "Right after a very brutal, very public rape?"

The asshole pretended to grow some balls, right there in front of me. "Just where do you get off, anyway? I saw what you did to that other girl. Are you telling me you don't do the same thing to Ana? I know she likes that kind of shit because she wanted me to do it to her, but I refused. You act so high and mighty just because you're rich, but you're not any better."

I was losing patience with this moron. "Except for one small detail," I replied with deathly calm. "Consent. What I do with my fiancee is none of your fucking business, but you can be sure that I have her consent in everything that we do. You, on the other hand, tried to publish photos without her consent. You invaded her privacy and betrayed her trust. You are worse than the scum on my shoes, Mr. Rodriguez. Now, I am a very busy man, and you're wasting my time here. I want those printed photographs. I want all digital photos deleted. And I want your word that you will never breathe the name Anastasia Steele again."

"And if I refuse?" he challenged.

"Then you're even stupider than you look," I answered. "You have 24 hours to deliver the photos to my office. Send them to GEH, to my attention, and mark the package as confidential. Google me for the address." I didn't wait for him to respond. I stood up and stalked out of the office. I made a mental note to text Ros and make sure she accepted the package for me.

When I passed the reception area, Ms. Tang was sorting through the pile of mail. She glanced up at me as I passed by. "Have a good day, Ms. Tang," I told her politely. She nodded at me in surprise.

As I exited, I bumped into my greenhorn CPO, Peres. I guess it had been twenty minutes. "He's still breathing for now," I told him just before I ordered him to take me to Ismintis International.

In the car, on the way to Ismintis, I was surprised to get a phone call from Isaac. "It's my mom," he told me. "I'm really worried. She... never was a very good judge of character."

"What are you talking about, Isaac?" I asked. "What has she done to make you feel worried?"

"I heard her talking to Joseph," he told me. "There's only one Joseph who she'd be talking to in that... tone. Scared shitless. She's always been scared of him. Even when she divorced him, she was scared out of her mind. He's the reason she never remarried. She's too afraid of him. And throughout my life, whenever he showed up, she'd give him anything he wanted. He never did shit for either of us, but he took whatever he wanted from her."

"So... you think he's threatening her?" I asked.

"I know he is," Isaac told me. "I know he's into some heavy shit and that the FBI is investigating him. I think it's for human trafficking. I'm not sure what all they have on him so far, but... I know he's into that. And Mom knows more than you realize... And now I've said too much. Just... do something, OK?"

I shared Isaac's concerns with Dad and with my FBI contact, but beyond that, I wasn't sure what I could do. Besides, between communicating with Ros to keep up with everything happening at GEH and running Ismintis International for Ana, I was very fucking busy. Thankfully, it didn't take Taylor too long to sort out Ana's extra security, and he was back by the end of the second day, giving Peres the on-the-job training the kid needed.

Taylor's timing on his return couldn't have been better, because I fucking needed him here in Seattle. I was doing overtime at Ismintis, just as Ana had done before her attack, to make sure things ran smoothly. So far, I had made sure she hadn't lost a single deal. I was also communicating diligently with a couple of businesses in Addis Ababa because I knew how important getting into Ethiopia to start her schools was for Ana, and fucking Hyde had slowed that down for her. In the midst of all this work, there were employees at Ismintis who clearly didn't trust me, and I didn't trust them either. Were they loyal to Ana, and that was their issue, or was there more to it?

Amidst my suspicions, there were two Ismintis employees that I quickly began to rely on without wavering. Hannah Smith, Ana's PA, and Samantha Gilbert, who I began to think of as my own personal witch. I brought Andrea from GEH to continue assisting me, and together she and Hannah kept me updated on everything going on at any time, which in itself was a feat. The two of them got along well, and Andrea helped smooth things over with Hannah for me when I was direct and to the point. Yeah, angry tyrant. Whatever.

Samantha was the one I turned to when I suspected that certain employees were untrustworthy. The chick had a keen sense of discernment. Thanks to her intuition combined with my own, I ordered background checks on four different employees, followed by an internal audit, and I uncovered the beginnings of a conspiracy. They were working together to embezzle from Ismintis, but since I caught them so early, they hadn't had time to steal more than a few hundred dollars. I brought the scheme to Ana's attention, and then I fired their asses. Throughout this process, I grew more respectful of Samantha Gilbert.

I was busy, but not too busy for my girls. Every evening, I made it home in time to read Christina a story and tuck her into bed. And every night, I Skyped with Ana for an hour or two. She seemed to be doing well. She was continuing her therapy sessions with Dr. Patel via Skype, and she felt like they were making progress. Things seemed to be working out well with her security too, which made me feel relieved. She said that she had been taking daily walks on the beach, and I was glad that she was able to find the serenity that she needed there.

I also wasn't too busy for my own therapy sessions. Flynn had suggested that we meet three times a week, and I had been diligent about keeping the appointments. I did it as much for Ana as for myself. I wanted to be healthy, and I wanted to help her get healthy. Flynn was amazed by the progress I was making. For the first time in years, I wanted to talk about my birth mother. We continued talking through my feelings of guilt over Leila, especially now that she was dead, and had died saving the life of my beloved. We talked extensively about my doubts regarding the lifestyle. Was I still a Dom? Was I ever really a Dom? I still didn't fucking know. Talking about all this with Flynn was exhausting, but I felt that I was gaining a better understanding, and I felt better about myself even with all the unanswered questions I still had.

I also hadn't been too busy to shop for a house for my family, and I found what I believed to be the perfect property. It was a large gated property between Hunt's Point and Kirkland, right on the shore of Lake Washington. The main house had ten bedrooms and eleven and a half bathrooms. It already had a five-car garage, and there was room to add on if we needed it. Over the garage was a three-bedroom apartment. It also had a boat dock and boathouse. Best of all, it was already wired with a high-tech closed-circuit security system. Really, it was perfect. I knew I should ask Ana first, but I decided to surprise her with it. If she hated it, we could always sell it. Or give it to one of my siblings as a wedding gift.

Nights without Ana were miserable. She was right, I really was an angry tyrant without her. I couldn't fall asleep without her, and when I finally did, my dreamcatcher wasn't there to keep the nightmares away. I often found myself in the music room of Grey Manor in the middle of the night. Throughout my teenage years, I'd often ended up here when I couldn't sleep at night. At some point, Dad had gotten it soundproofed so it didn't disturb the rest of the family when I played the piano during the night.

So on my fourth night without Ana, I didn't think about the rest of the people sleeping in the house when I went into the music room and began to play. I found some sheet music on the piano that Mia must have left there. It was some modern pop music, which I didn't normally waste my time with, but the lyrics were good. They reminded me of Ana, of course. I looked at the cover. John Legend. I'd heard his name. I sight read the piece, and then played it through again. I recognized the tune from the radio. By the third time, I had it down, and I started singing it, thinking about Ana. When I got to the line, "Even when you're crying you're beautiful," my own eyes got teary. My girl had so much to cry about lately. I wanted to be able to dry her tears and protect her for the rest of our lives. I sang through the chorus as if I were singing the words directly to her, "All of me loves all of you..." When I sang about her perfect imperfections, I wasn't sure she had any. She'd probably think of her still healing wounds from Hyde's attack as imperfections, but they weren't. They were signs of her strength, of her survival. She was just as much a goddess with or without scars or wounds. She was everything to me.

I was startled to hear someone clapping as I finished the song. Once I'd memorized the song after playing it through three times, I'd been playing and singing with my eyes closed, so I didn't know until I looked up that my mom had been standing there listening to me.

"Sorry, Mom! I didn't mean to wake anyone," I told her.

"You didn't wake me, Christian. I was already awake, and I saw the light on in here. That was beautiful, son. I didn't know you could sing like that."

I thanked her, not wanting to make a big deal about my singing.

"You really miss her, don't you, dear," Mom said.

"More than you can imagine," I answered.

Mom had tears in her eyes when she confessed, "I wasn't sure you'd ever find someone to love like this, but I can't tell you how happy it makes me. Of all my children, I worried most about you. And I probably failed you most."

"Mom, you didn't fail me," I objected.

"I let that evil woman sink her claws into you. I'll never forgive myself for that, Christian," she said sadly.

"Mom... don't," I insisted. I really wanted to change the subject. Thinking about Elena was even more depressing, and I already felt depressed enough without Ana. I thought about the conversations I'd been having lately with Flynn, which were also just as depressing, but I felt like I was at a place now where I actually wanted answers to questions I'd never been willing to ask before. "Can I ask you something?" I asked Mom.

"You can ask me anything, darling," she answered.

"When I was little... I mean before you adopted me... What did you know about my life before? I mean, when you were in the process of adopting me, were there things you found out about my birth mother? Besides her profession and drug habits?"

Grace nodded. "Wait here," she said. "I have something for you."

When she left the room, she was wiping her eyes. I didn't have long to wonder what she was getting, because she returned in just a couple of minutes. She sat down on the sofa and placed a shoebox on the coffee table before she motioned for me to sit next to her.

She started speaking as soon as I was seated. "Your dad and I decided when we adopted all three of you children that we would always answer any questions you asked us about your life before adoption, but that we wouldn't tell you unless you asked. Elliot and Mia both had questions when they were in their early teens. You... never did. Cary and I had more than one argument when you were in your teens, when you were acting out, getting into fights, because I wanted to go ahead and share this with you, even though you hadn't asked. I thought you were angry because you were trying to find yourself, and giving you this would help with that. Cary disagreed. He insisted that you had to ask first. It was what we'd agreed to. He was concerned that reminding you that you were adopted would make you feel even less like you belonged in our family, and we didn't want that. It was a very difficult decision for both of us to keep this from you until you asked."

"What is it, Mom?" I asked curiously. Her nervous behavior made me feel a little nervous.

She lifted the lid on the box and took out a photograph of a woman who looked to be in her late thirties and two teenage identical twin girls. I recognized them... at least one of them, but I didn't know which one. An older version of this face was on the bulletin board in my room. It was my birth mother.

Grace explained, "This woman is your grandmother, Elizabeth Carter. I met her at one of the hearings during the process of adopting you. When a child is in the foster care program, the state always tries first to reunite him or her with their family. If their parents aren't an option, then the court looks for grandparents or aunts and uncles. They found your grandmother. She lived in Flint, or in a small town near Flint, but she drove down to Detroit for your hearing. Cary and I invited her for coffee afterwards. That was how we learned what happened to your mother, and your aunt."

"My birth mother," I corrected her. "She's one of these girls. I recognize her from the photo in my room."

"Yes, I put that there when you were little, thinking that you'd ask about her when you were ready."

"She had a twin?" I asked.

"Yes," Grace answered. She pointed to the one on the right. "This is Ella, your birth mother. I remember that because she's wearing blue. The other girl, wearing pink, is her identical twin sister, Evelyn. This picture was taken when the girls were in high school."

"Was there a... father? My grandfather?" I asked.

"He was killed in a skiing accident when the girls were younger. I think your grandmother said they were ten or eleven when it happened. Both of them had been very close to their father. None of them were the same after his death."

"Wow!" I said. "My birth mother had a family." I'd always pictured her as alone.

"She was loved," Grace agreed. "But when the girls were in high school, something terrible happened to your aunt Evelyn. I'm not sure about the details. It was difficult for your grandmother to talk about it. Whatever it was... your aunt never recovered. She started doing drugs and got addicted. She overdosed a few days before she was supposed to graduate from high school. Your mother never recovered from losing her twin."

"But... why would she start doing drugs herself if that's how she lost her sister?"

"Grief is a strange monster," Mom answered. "And also... your birth father might have had something to do with that."

"My... birth father?" I asked in shock. "You know who he was? Is?"

"Was," Mom corrected. "Your grandmother knew him. He was your mom's high school sweetheart. He apparently, in your grandmother's words, tried to help Ella cope. She didn't approve of his way of helping her cope."

"Drugs," I filled in.

"Drugs, alcohol, sex. Unprotected sex."

"Which is, of course, where I came into the picture," I said.

Grace nodded. "Yes, and shortly after she found out she was pregnant, she almost died, and so did you. They were driving drunk. Your birth father was killed, and everyone in the car that he hit head-on was killed. Ella was the only survivor. Well, other than you."

"What was his name?" I asked. "My father. What was his name?" I suddenly had to know. I'd always assumed he was a john who hadn't given a shit about her. But he'd been her high school sweetheart? This changed everything.

Mom looked in the shoe box and picked up another photograph. "Thomas Norwood. And you look a lot like him." She held out the picture for me to see.

"Holy shit," I muttered. He looked just like me. I had a birth father. Would he have loved me if he had lived to see me born? Would things have turned out differently?

"Christian, language," Mom reminded me.

Sorry, Mom," I replied. "So... Ella lost her father... then her twin... then her boyfriend... all within just a few years."

"The twin and boyfriend were just within a few months of each other. And she didn't recover at all from losing them. She... ran off to Detroit before you were born."

"And became a hooker," I added.

"No, Christian," Mom corrected. "Ella wasn't a hooker. You make it sound like she had a choice."

"Didn't she?" I asked. "Mom, I remember the pimp. The man who burned me. He was her pimp. And I remember hiding in the closet when we had... visitors. Male visitors."

Mom nodded. "I know, honey. That man... he was a loan shark. When you were an infant, Ella went to him to borrow money. He... to make a long story short, he seduced her. He got her hooked on crystal meth. And then he pimped her out."

"And... my grandmother told you all this?" I asked.

"Yes," Grace answered. "Your mom contacted her shortly after she met that man. But your grandma had her own... problems."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She was an addict too, Christian. An alcoholic. It was why she couldn't take you. She told us that she wanted to, but she didn't think she would be able to care for you. Anyway, when Ella contacted her, she... basically told her she was on her own. She never forgave herself. When we met her, she blamed herself for Ella's death, and for forcing her into that lifestyle."

"Good God," I muttered.

"There's more, Christian," Grace warned me.

I glanced in the box before looking back at her face. "What do you mean?"

She followed my glance. "Yes, more in the box too, and I'll get to that, but I mean that there's still more to the story. Now that you're an adult, I think you can handle the whole thing. Your grandmother is still alive, Christian. She's in the state penitentiary in Michigan."

"What!?" I asked in shock.

"After your adoption... she found that man, the one who'd abused you and Ella. She killed him. Then she went straight to a police station and turned herself in."

"Holy shit!" I said again. This time, Mom didn't admonish me for my language. "My grandmother killed the pimp!?"

Grace nodded. "She did. She shot him at point blank range."

I wasn't sure what to say. I needed time to process all of this information. But Mom continued, "Christian, the other things in the box..." She picked up a stack of letters bound with a rubber band. "These are letters from your grandmother. I've been corresponding with her since you were little. I didn't learn about all this over coffee with her one afternoon. I learned it over a few years. She wrote a lot about your mom and aunt Evelyn, stories about things they did when they were growing up. She wrote about her love for your grandfather and what kind of man he was. He was a brilliant businessman too, so you come by it naturally. Your grandmother... has a way with words. She's a good story-teller. She even described the shooting in one of the letters... when she killed that man. I saved these for you, Christian."

I took the stack of letters from Mom and stared at them. I saw that the return address was indeed the Michigan state penitentiary. My God! I had a living blood relative, a grandmother. And she was serving a life sentence for killing, of all people, my tormentor, the man who had still been tormenting me in my nightmares for my whole life. There was something... freeing... in that knowledge.

Mom held up something else that she'd taken from the box. "She wanted you to have this too," Mom said. "It was her wedding and engagement rings. She said... you might want to give them to your bride. But I think you might be more likely to want to give them to Christina someday."

I opened the ring box and looked at the rings. The engagement ring was a classy and simple diamond solitaire. Both rings were yellow gold. Together, they were probably worth several hundred dollars, possibly even a thousand or two. My family hadn't been penniless like I'd assumed. Ella had come from a normal middle-class background, before tragedy had struck.

I looked at my mom and said, "Thank you."

"Your welcome, son," Grace said. "Are you OK? I know... it's a lot to process."

"Yeah, it is. But yes, I'm OK. I think I'm going to go up to my room now. Can I... keep this?" I motioned to the shoebox.

"Of course, Christian. These things are yours," Grace answered.

When I got to my room, I got into bed with the box, and I examined its contents again, beginning with the photographs. There were a few more inside that Grace hadn't gotten out, including one of my parents together, dressed in formal attire and smiling happily. High School Prom? It must have been. My mother was wearing a baby blue formal dress. Blue must have been her favorite color. My father was wearing a tuxedo with a blue bowtie the same color as my mother's dress. In another picture, she was wearing the same dress but standing next to her twin, who was wearing a gold dress. They were both beautiful.

I picked up the stack of letters and noticed that Mom had organized them chronologically, with the most recent on top. Elizabeth Carter had printed her name neatly before the address for the penitentiary, and I looked through the stack to see that they all looked exactly the same. This most recent letter was dated only a few months ago. All these years, they'd kept in touch, and I had no idea. Wow.

I decided to begin with the oldest, so I took the letter from the bottom of the pile dated when I was only five or six years old. But before I got very far, my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Ana. It was almost 4:00 a.m. in Seattle, which meant it was only 2:00 a.m. in Hawaii. Why was she calling in the middle of the night?

"Ana?" I answered.

She was crying. "Christian!" she wept my name.

I felt a stab of panic. "What happened!? Are you hurt?! Do I need to call 911?!"

"N..n..no. I... Are you OK, Christian? Oh, God! I need to see your face. Facetime me!" With that, she hung up on me.

I called her back immediately via Facetime. When she answered, and I saw her tears, it broke my heart. "Ana, what's going on?" I asked her. "Did somebody hurt you?"

She stared at me, examining my face carefully. "You're OK. You're OK. Thank God, you're OK."

"I'm OK, Ana. I'm more than OK. I mean, I miss you and can't sleep without you, but other than that I'm fine. What's going on, princess?"

"I had a nightmare. An awful nightmare. He had you, Christian. He... hurt you."

"Shh..." I tried to comfort her. "I'm fine, princess. He's dead. He's never going to hurt me or you again. It was just a nightmare. If there's anything I understand, it's nightmares. But it's going to be OK, my love. You're going to be OK."

"God, Christian, I need you. I need you here. There are so many things we need to talk about. Things I've decided over the past few days."

"Like what, princess?" I asked. Since it was Friday... well, early Saturday morning now, I didn't need to go into work. I had planned to work on a few of Ana's deals from home, but I could do that on the airplane. If she wanted me there, I'd grow wings and fly there by myself if I had to.

She smiled, and even through her tears, it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. "I'll email you a list," she said.

"You are so beautiful," I told her.

She snorted, which wasn't graceful but cute. "I'm snotty-faced and sleep deprived. Far from beautiful at the moment."

"You are still the most beautiful woman in the universe," I insisted.

She shook her head, but she was smiling. "How soon can you get to Hawaii?" she asked. "I wasn't joking, Christian. I really need you here. The wedding is only a few days away... so... do you think you can come early and go with me from here to Fiji?

"Absofuckinglutely," I answered. "The flight takes about five hours, right?" I asked.

"Maybe a little more," she answered.

"Then I'll be there in seven or eight hours," I told her. "I need to wake up my staff and pack a bag. I can hardly wait to see you, princess. I have a lot to tell you, too."

When we ended the call a few minutes later, I texted Taylor. "Go repack and tell the boy scout to pack. We're going to Hawaii."

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, but I've travelled across the ocean due to family stuff, so I don't know how much I'll be able to keep updating this week.