Like Mother, Like Daughter (Season 4)

by originella

Eighteen-year-old Iana Milkovich is contending with a broken heart, along with her brother's arrest, and two different men in her life that just won't let go. Not to mention the notion that Yev's arrest just seems off, and secret are being kept, so Iana must consider if she'll throw herself into detective work, she deals with attending college and raising her daughter as well.

4. Dark Horse

Chapter Four: Dark Horse

"It's been two days," Franny said, wiping off one of the menus and handing it over to me to put into its little wooden bin. "The last thing I need is you continuing to give me the silent treatment whilst we do the closing shift."

I muttered under my breath, inspecting the latest cleaned menu for any offending stains of chili, avocado, or ice cream—among other things—before placing it in its proper place. "Didn't know that 'whilst' was still a common word in the English language…"

Franny scoffed, tossing her red hair before she dropped the rag, putting her elbows down onto the counter, and stared at me with those blue eyes of hers, before at last I turned and looked over at her. "Iana, this is me you're talking to," she said, pouting at me. "Godmother to my son, my best friend since you were in diapers and I was in pull-ups, my secret-keeper and confident when I got pregnant with Ezra, and when shit went down with Colin. And ever since my marriage went on the rocks, you've been there for me constantly."

I sighed. "And news on the Clark front?"

Franny sighed, knowing that, maybe if we talked about her for a little while, that I'd eventually allow myself to be opened up. "Not a whiff of anything fresh," she replied, turning back to her task of menu-cleaning.

"Yeah?" I asked, swiveling around on my bar stool as I waited for her job as menu-cleaner to be over, whereupon my job of inspector would begin. "You sure? I know that you're letting him get Ezra from school on some days when we're slammed here."

Franny sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "I want Ezra to have a relationship with Clark, because he's the closest thing he's ever had to a father," she said quietly. "Plus, Clark and I agreed that if we allow him to continue seeing him, Ezra won't think it's his fault that the marriage didn't last more than five fucking minutes."

I blinked. "What?"

"Yeah, it's a common trait with children," Franny replied, shrugging it off, and I shook my head, never having heard this common occurrence more than I had these past several weeks. "I mean, I don't want it damaging him…"

I shook my head. "No, of course not," I said quietly. "How does Ezra react after these visits with Clark? Happy? Sad?"

"Worried, mostly," Franny said softly, making a face as she smelled the rag, before tossing it into the employee locker room with that incredible arm of hers, and fetching another one from the bin below the counter. "The first thing he asks me whenever he comes in the door when he spends an afternoon with Clark is, 'Mommy, when are you getting back together with him?'"

I sighed. "And, I take it, you don't have an answer for him?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not," she said. "The last thing I have time to think about is my husband, living in his childhood bedroom, back in his parent's house. I mean… Do I still love him? Of course I do. Can I get over the notion that he could've sent my technical cousin to prison? I don't know. I just don't know. And that's the problem. I don't think my love could outweigh this lie. I already forgave him for a lie…"

"About him being undercover as Jay, an Italian restaurateur?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. Too bad I didn't see him for what he was at the beginning—a Chicago cop who came from the same kettle that we did."

I sighed, smiling slightly then. "You do realize that he would've told you the truth, if he could, right?" I asked her. "And, if I remember correctly, he immediately told you that he was always in love with you, and kissed you in front of everyone?"

"I don't need reminding of our courtship, Iana," she said quietly. "I remember everything. Of course, I wouldn't have said or done certain things if I knew he was a cop…"

I smirked. "You were being yourself."

"Yeah," she said, shrugging. "What of it?"

"That's why he fell in love with you in the first place, Franny," I said, my tone gentle. "Had you not acted like yourself, Clark likely wouldn't have fallen for you."

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"What don't you know?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe if I'd kept my legs closed a bit longer, he wouldn't have thought of me as ghetto trash…"

My mouth fell open. "Hold up. Did he actually say that?"

Franny bit her lip. "Not in so many words…"

"Okay," I said, crossing my arms. "What was said then?"

She looked away. "I shouldn't say it…"

"You've already said too much already," I said, leaning forward. "So, tell me right now what was said about our family, Franny. I won't stand for trash-talk."

She swallowed visibly then, flattening her hands before placing them on the countertop between us, in a deliberate effort to steady herself. "It was the last time we went over for dinner at his parent's house, before I kicked him out," she said quietly. "I got all the information I needed that night, to know what his family…well, his mother, really thought of me…"

"What happened, Franny?"

"I was out on the back patio with Ezra and Mason, and things were going amazing," she went on then, her voice soft. "Mason was immediately accepting of both of us, and we'd never had a problem with him, ever. Ezra was eating the lemon ice for dessert, but I declined, because, like you, we're the only members of the family who can't stand lemon on anything other than some kind of chicken meal," she said, her eyes meeting mine, and we smiled at one another. "So, I excused myself to use the bathroom, and Mason said he'd watch Ezra. I went inside, and I had to walk by the kitchen, which is when I heard them talking…"

"What'd Sarah say?" I asked.

"In short, Sarah said that Clark had made the biggest mistake ever by marrying into a 'ghetto trash' family," she said quietly, lowering her eyes.

I gasped. "You're kidding!"

"No," Franny said, shaking her head. "Clark defended me, and that warmed me to him, of course, because, as his wife, he's supposed to be on my side."

I nodded. "Of course he did! He did well."

"Not for long," Franny informed me. "Sarah went on that the Gallagher's were trash, and then said that Aunt Murphy had been a thirsty, homewrecking bitch, and that she was the one who had gone after Mason, while they were separated, and while Uncle Nicholas was on the run from the law, while we know that it was Mason who…"

"Oh, fuck no!" I said, pushing up from my place at the counter, and marched into the employee locker room, getting my keys and other things from my locker, whereupon I walked over to the door, and let out an exasperated noise when Franny blocked my way. "Move!" I ordered her, and crossed my arms.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Franny demanded, searching my face. "Are you off your meds again, Iana?!"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I am not off my fucking meds, Franny!" I shot back. "Now, let me out so I can teach that bitch a lesson!"

"Stop it right now," Franny said, taking ahold of my shoulders and propelling me back to the dining room, and sitting me down at the counter. "Don't move," she ordered, going behind the counter and getting me a glass of ice water, which she placed in front of me. She watched me as I lifted the glass to my lips, taking a drink. "There. Better?"

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "Whatever."

Franny sighed. "Iana, fucking talk to me," she said, doing her best to attempt to get me to meet her eyes, but I wasn't budging. "You've gone full-silent on your life, except for Yev's trial and any new developments about Hailey or college."

I shrugged. "So what?"

"So what?" she cried out. "So what?! Iana, look at me!" she demanded then, and my eyes seemed to automatically snap to hers. "You can't keep going on in this zombie state for the rest of your life!"

"Why not?"

"Why not…?" Franny sighed, shaking her head at me. "Because it's not healthy!"

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"It does fucking matter, Iana! You fucking matter!" she said, taking ahold of my shoulders, and my eyes looked up at her. "Ever since you got back this summer, you've been holding everyone by Yev at arm's' length. I know you think that he really needs you right now because of the trial he's going through, and that's fine. But you've got to understand that the rest of us, we're your fucking family, too, and we'll do anything to make sure that you're happy."

I sighed. "I'm perfectly happy, Franny. See?" I said, forcing the smile onto my lips, but felt the tears enter my eyes simultaneously. "Happy as can be…"

"No," Franny said, her grip on my shoulders suddenly turning gentle. "No, you're not," she went on then, circling the counter and sitting beside me. "Iana, please. Talk to me. I know I've got my own shit going on for me, but who gives a damn, at the end of the day? You are my best friend and I can't stand to see you like this. Please… Tell me what's going on."

I looked away from her. "It's hard," I said, the words escaping my mouth before I could call them back, the tears suspended on my lashes.

"What's hard? Being a mother with an important job? Of course it is. Having a brother who could go to prison? That's damn hard, too. Not to mention the fact that your cousin and best friend keeps dumping her marriage drama on you, despite the fact that you yourself seem to have some crap going on, too," she said, and I turned to look at her again. "I'm right, aren't I? I mean, something has to be up here…"

I swallowed. "Yeah," I said.

She nodded. "Talk to me, then. And don't give me the, 'Franny, it's fucking complicated' speech, because I've heard that over and over from you. It's officially an unacceptable answer, Iana. I was there for you when you got arrested and put on trial at fourteen, when you got your heart broken that same year, and when you realized you were pregnant with Iana. I've always been there for you, Iana, because I'm your best friend, and your cousin. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you if it's in my hands. Let me listen to you now. Please. I want to help."

I sighed then, knowing that I had to give her something. "It's fucking hard…"

She blinked. "What is?"

"All of it," I whispered.

"All of what?" she wanted to know.

"On top of everything—motherhood, job, college—having to lie," I whispered, the last word slipping out of my mouth, barely a whisper.

"Lie?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Lie."

"Lie about what?"

"About my real motivation for getting back together with Axel," I whispered, my voice shaking then, as I allowed these words to be spoken. "I'm a terrible person…"

"Iana…"

"No, I am," I told her, the tears streaming down my face. "I acted like I was still in love with him and that I wanted him back, but I really just…"

"You didn't want to be alone," Franny said quietly, and I nodded, throwing my arms around her then, sobbing. "Liam… He really hurt you, didn't he?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, my voice muffled.

Franny held me to her. "I'm sure seeing that fiancée of his didn't help…"

I shook my head, pulling back from her and wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. "I mean, it wasn't easy…"

She shook her head. "I can't imagine."

I nodded. "Not many people can," I whispered, raising my eyes to hers. "And while I don't fully understand it, I think that's why I got back with Axel."

She blinked. "Because of your pasts?"

I sighed. "Yeah," I said, hunching my shoulders. "He's one of the few people who understands what I went through, on the level and all…"

"I'm sorry, Iana," she said quietly. "I wish I'd known…"

I shook my head. "You couldn't have known, Franny, and you couldn't have done anything anyway. You were young, too. I don't forget."

She sighed, taking my hand in hers. "Just… Promise me something."

"What?"

Her eyes locked with mine. "Don't make compromises when it comes to love," she said softly to me then, and I knew she was talking about Colin. "No matter what happens, just always be on the lookout for the right person. Don't sacrifice your ideals for the love that might be an idealist thing; remember to always look for it."

I nodded. "I will," I replied, and we shared a smile.

. . .

I had the day off the following day, and took Hailey to the park, content on her skipping a day of daycare, and permitting myself to spend my day as a mother. I was ahead on my essay work for my classes, as well as the math assignments that were a daily ritual. I ignored Axel's attempts at a reconciliation through phone calls, and instead took Hailey to Pops and Uncle Ian's place after we'd finished at the park that afternoon.

"Things good?" Pops asked, taking Hailey automatically from me after I stepped inside.

I shrugged, making my way over to the kitchen and retrieving a bottle of beer from the fridge. I threw a smile in Uncle Ian's direction, who looked concerned as I opened the beer and chugged it effortlessly, leaning up against the doorframe of the kitchen. "I should say that I can't complain, but it's more than that…"

"Axel still texting you?" Uncle Ian guessed.

I scoffed. "You don't know the half of it," I said, hunching my shoulders. "He called me three times while I was at the park with this one."

"What'd you do at the park?" Pops asked, turning and looking at Hailey, and I smiled, pleased that the question was directed at her.

"Swings," she replied, clapping her hands. "Swings Hailey's favorite."

"They're your mother's favorite, too," Uncle Ian said, putting an arm around my shoulders, and I automatically leaned back and into him. "Grandma Murphy and I went to the park so much with her when she was little, and she loved the swings."

I rolled my eyes, sipping at my beer. "Except this one had to grow up, and move on with her life eventually," I said, kissing Uncle Ian on the cheek as I crossed the room, sitting next to Pops on the couch. "But, it's a living."

The front door opened then and Yev stepped inside, carrying a box. "Oh, good, you're here," he said, flashing my a smile as he kicked the door shut behind him.

"What's that?" Pops asked, nodding at the box.

"It's addressed to Iana," Yev explained casually, crossing into the living room and handing it over to me. "I was just walking back from my shift at Patsy's and saw the mailman across the street. I told him about my connection and he just handed it over to me without asking any questions, so, here we are."

I smiled, turning the box over and over in my hands, just managing to make out the return address in the upper left corner of the package. "Oh, it's from the optometrist!" I said, getting to my feet and dashing to the kitchen. I pulled a box cutter out of the junk drawer, slicing open the box effortlessly and taking out one of the smaller boxes from inside it. I let out a shriek, before opening the inner box I held and walked over to the bathroom. I opened the door, washing my hands in a frenzy before I took out one of the things inside the box. I leaned in closer to the mirror then, opening my contact lenses, and popping them both into my eyes. I let out a slight gasp then, as the outlines of things far away and close to me, became sharper, and the canvas painted in front of me consisted of no blurred lines.

"You okay?" Yev asked, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, and he automatically stepped backwards as I stepped towards him, but let out a chuckle as I threw my arms around him. "Hey, hey, what's all this about?"

"I can see," I said, my voice breathless as I pulled away from him. "I can fucking see again! My head isn't pounding, and my eyes aren't working double-time anymore…"

"Hold up, you can see?!" Uncle Ian demanded, crossing towards the two of us and getting a good look at me. "Wow! I don't even detect a difference, other than the obvious."

"The obvious?" I asked, cocking my head to one side. "What do you…?"

"He means you look happy, Iana," Pops explained, stepping into the kitchen with Hailey still in his arms. "You haven't looked that happy in a while."

Yev turned and regarded me again. "He's right," he replied.

I laughed then, crossing my arms. "Well, let's just hope this happiness sticks around for a while, then," I said softly.

. . .

"Guess now that the jury's been picked, we'll finally see some action," Yev said, rolling back on the balls of his feet, in his new pair of patent leather shoes that Dad had bought him. "Guess you could say I'm ready to get the story straight."

I sighed, reaching up and smoothing his jacket and adjusting his tie. "Now, remember, Yev, you've got to appear professional and above suspicion at all times when in public," I told him, my voice quiet. "The last thing you want is the judge, twelve jurors, witnesses to the trial, reporters, bailiffs, or the opposing side coming up with dirt against you. Dad's good at his job, as you know, but you can't risk anything."

Yev nodded, rolling his shoulders and turning to look around the conference room that Dad had had reserved for him to be in before and during court proceedings. "What do you think the significance behind that painting is?"

I turned, following his eyes. "It's The Water Lily Pond by Claude Monet," I said, and Yev turned to look at me, his eyes wide. "What?" I asked him, shrugging. "A girl from the South Side can't know about artwork?"

He shook his head. "No. I just didn't know you did."

I laughed. "We took a trip to the Chicago Museum of Art junior year," I said. "It was the junior class trip, and it was amazing."

"So, you like art?"

"Paintings, sure," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I guess you could say my favorite painters are probably Waterhouse, Vermeer, and Holbein."

Yev grinned. "I'll have to check them out," he replied.

I nodded. "You should," I told him.

"Hey, kids," Dad said, coming to the room a moment later, his briefcase in hand as he shut the door behind him. "You all set for the opening arguments today?"

Yev sighed. "Yeah. I mean, I guess I am. Have to be, don't I?"

Dad smiled at Yev. "You're going to be just fine," he assured him. "I'm sure you're nervous, but anyone would be in this situation. And, not to worry, it's just opening arguments. The opposing side is going to make you look bad, but they can't say or ask you anything yet, as you are not on the stand. That won't come for a while."

Yev nodded. "Okay. I think I can handle that."

The door opened then, and Desmond stood on the threshold, and Yev visibly relaxed when he saw him standing there. Dad squeezed Yev's shoulder good-naturedly and gently pushed him towards Desmond, while he opened his briefcase on the table of the conference room and went over his notes for the opening arguments.

"I'll give you two some time," I said, smiling at Yev. "Hey, Desmond," I said, walking past him and into the hallway.

"Hey, Iana," he said back.

I stepped out into the hallway and made my way down it, heading outside to get some air. It was a cool October day, and I welcomed the cool air on my skin. I was wearing a skirt suit that day, always wanting to be appropriate, and as I lowered my eyes down the staircase, I very nearly lost my footing when I saw who was standing there. "Axel?" I asked.

"Hey," he said, coming up the rest of the stairs and standing opposite me. "How are you?" he asked, handing me some flowers.

"I…" I cut myself off then, staring at the bouquet he'd given me, and found that I was unsure of this sudden turn of events. "Fine, I guess. Desmond just got here. He's calming Yev down in the wake of preparation for opening arguments."

He nodded. "That's why I'm here," he replied, his tone unsteady. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night, Iana. Knowing what I know about your past, I shouldn't have tried to push the issue. I know you'll tell me when you're ready."

I nodded. "You're right, you shouldn't have tried to push the issue."

"It feels like I'm always apologizing to you," he said, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "I fucking hate it, even though you've deserved every apology."

"You're right. I have." I hesitated for a moment, taking in his gesture of flowers, as well as the humble attitude he was presenting. "But it means a lot that you showed up here today."

Axel smiled. "Thank you."

"Are you staying?" I asked. "For opening arguments?"

He blinked. "Do you want me to?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I mean, if you want…"

"I'd like to, yeah."

I reached out then and took his hand. "I'm glad," I said, standing on my toes and kissing him on the cheek. "They should be calling Yev's case any minute. Let's get in there."

As we stepped inside the courthouse, Axel hesitated in the foyer. "Iana…"

I turned and looked at him then, questioning of his motives. "Yeah?"

He sighed. "I really do feel bad about the other night…"

I nodded. "I know, Axel. You didn't mean it."

"I really want to make it up to you…"

I shook my head. "That's really not necessary…"

"It is necessary," he said firmly, "because you deserve it."

I swallowed then. "What did you have in mind?"

"A do-over."

I blinked. "A what now?"

"A do-over. Of our first date. I want to take you to dinner."

I sighed, forcing a smile to my lips. "Okay, Axel. You can take me to dinner," I said, and we walked towards the conference room together.

. . .

There couldn't have been enough showers in the week that followed to absolve me of the guilt I felt, or how dirty I was feeling emotionally after my dinner date with Axel. I couldn't tell you how many times I washed my mouth out, or my hands, in the days that went by. I kept my head down in my laptop, or my hands focused on my work at Patsy's, just trying to keep my head out of the gutter, so to speak, even after what Axel and I had done after dinner, because I'd been so tired of the way he was looking at me. As the week carried on, all I could think about was that the end of the month was coming, and the trial went on.

"Iana."

"Shit!" I said, very nearly spilling my bottle of water on my laptop, where I'd been working in the conference room at the courthouse on my latest essay. "Dad, sorry," I said, saving my document and closing it up. "Just feeling a little on edge lately."

Dad sighed, shutting the door behind him. "Well, what I need to say won't help…"

"It won't?" I asked, looking around him, but seeing no one. "Where's Yev?"

"Desmond just showed up to take him to dinner," he replied. "Want to grab a bite?"

I sighed. "Can't," I replied. "I had the day off today, and Hailey's been at the daycare far too long for my liking. But I had to finish my latest Business 101 essay," I said, shrugging my shoulders as I got to my feet.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Yeah, but Franny's working at the diner today, so Mom'll probably be cooking," I said, and gave him a small smile as I put on my coat. "So, what won't help me?" I asked him, putting my hands on the table. "You seem to think that whatever you have to say likely won't ease the tension I'm feeling, so let's hear it."

Dad sighed. "The opposing side and I talked about our proposed character witnesses and whatnot for Yev's case, and I'm sorry, sweetheart, but your number's up."

I felt myself blanching white then. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I fought tooth and nail to keep you off the list, sweetheart, using every conflict of interest trick I had up my sleeve, but, unfortunately, it didn't do any good. The judge is eager to hear from you, and the opposing side…"

"Will stop at nothing to find Yev guilty," I said, putting my head in my hands. "I cannot go down on a perjury charge, Dad."

He sighed. "I know, honey, I know."

"What happens if they ask me if Yev did it?" I cried out then, lifting my head to meet his eyes. "I mean, unless I want to rot in jail for up to five years, I've gotta tell the truth. I've gotta say that Yev assaulted Terry, no matter if he deserved it or not. If I lie on the stand…"

"You can always not show up, or plead the fifth," Dad joked.

I scoffed. "Yeah, hell of a lot good that'll do me. They can subpoena me to court, and compel me to testify. They may not like us personally, but they'll love seeing me squirm up there."

"There's one other thing…"

"What now?" I muttered.

"They DA says that, if you refuse to cooperate with them, then they'll press charges against you for being an accessory to Yev's crime."

My mouth fell open then. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Dad sighed. "No, honey. I'm not kidding."

I shook my head then, swallowing as I looked out the window. "How long?"

"What?"

I raised my eyes to his. "How long would I get? If I refuse to cooperate with the opposing side, and they take me to trial. Say they ignore my mental health, and want me sentenced to the maximum punishment allowed…"

"Iana, I don't think talking about this will…"

"Don't say what'll help me and not help me," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Just tell me what kind of sentence I can expect, Dad. Please."

"A year," he said, and I shut my eyes at the truth behind his words. "Maybe more, if they're playing hardball with the charges. I mean, who's to say they couldn't air your dirty laundry in open court? Remember what happened with me? Who's to say a rat couldn't go in and get your charges as a minor brought up in court. I could object until the day I die, but the opposing side could have the judge in their pocket…"

"Shit," I whispered. "When would I have to do this?"

"A week from today," Dad replied.

I shook my head then. "Jesus Christ," I whispered.

"Iana, it won't be too bad…"

I shook my head then, feeling the hot tears escaping my eyes, before I at last turned and looked up at him. "I guess I have to cooperate then, no matter what. Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me god."

Dad smiled tightly then. "I'll do all I can to help you."

I sighed, shaking my head and slipping my laptop into its case before I got to my feet. "Think it's a little late for that, Dad," I said, walking towards the door and leaving the room.

. . .

Pops had agreed to be there when I took the stand, and, even after Dad had questioned me, I knew that the worst of it was far from over. I lowered my eyes to my black trousers, my hands curled into fists upon my thighs. I'd sat through enough courtroom films and T.V. shows that I knew that the worst of it was yet to come. I raised my eyes upwards then as the D.A. got to his feet; he was a portly man, who frequently wore ill-fitting wool suits in an abysmal array of colors and patterns.

"Miss Milkovich, please tell the court your relationship to the defendant."

I leaned forward then, towards the microphone, so that I would not be accused of speaking too quietly for anyone to hear. "He is my oldest brother."

"For technicalities sake, he is your older paternal half-brother? You and Mr. Milkovich share the same biological father?"

I nodded at his words, hating that he was essentially mansplaining my answer. "Yes," I replied, my tone clipped.

"Now, now, no need for ill-temperament," said the D.A.

Fucking asshole, treating me like I'm some invalid from the nineteenth century. Get the fuck on with it while I'm young!

"And is it true, Miss Milkovich, that the day the assault took place, it was your first time ever meeting the defendant?"

I nodded. "Yes, that's correct."

"You and Mr. Milkovich, I take it, were not raised in the same household?"

No shit, sherlock, I thought to myself. "No, sir. Custody of Yevgeny Milkovich was awarded to his biological mother, and I was raised by my own mother and adoptive father."

"Custody, of course, being given to the defendant's biological mother, because of the fact that the father you share was on the run in Mexico?"

"Objection!" Dad said, shooting to his feet. "Relevance?"

"Withdrawn," said the D.A. "What prompted the visit to Terry Milkovich's residence, Miss Milkovich?" he asked.

I swallowed then, lowering my eyes.

"Miss Milkovich, may I remind you that you are under oath?"

Sue me, you fucking bastard, I thought to myself, before my eyes flashed upwards to meet his. "I suggested that the defendant and I pay a visit to Terry Milkovich's residence in the wake of his questioning of his conception."

"And how was Yevgeny Milkovich conceived, Miss Milkovich?"

"Your Honor!" Dad said, getting to his feet.

"I would like to hear this, Mr. Blomqvist," Judge Vincent said levelly to Dad, before he turned to look over at me. "Answer the question, Miss Milkovich."

I swallowed a second time, biting down hard on my lower lip, and forced the words to come out of my mouth before I could call them back. "Rape," I said softly.

The D.A. stepped closer to me. "Repeat yourself, please, Miss Milkovich, so as all the members of the jury can hear you."

I looked up at him. "Our biological father was raped," I reply, feeling the tears suspended on my lashes as I stared at him then.

The D.A. looked shocked. "I'm sorry?"

"Our paternal grandfather, Terry Milkovich, is an extremely intolerant man," I said quietly. "He did not approve of our father's relationship with his then-boyfriend, now-husband, Ian Gallagher, and so, after walking in on them together, he immediately hired a Russian hand whore by the name of Svetlana Yevgenivna to quote, 'fuck the gay out of' our father, all the while keeping my uncle and his own son at gunpoint. He then forced my uncle to watch the attack," I said, my voice hoarse from my attempts to hold it together. "After that, Svetlana was confirmed to be pregnant, and our biological father was forced into marriage with her."

"And you told Mr. Milkovich all of this?"

"The short version," I said softly.

The D.A. looked shocked at this sudden turn of events. "And it was after that that the assault took place?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Which you were a witness to?"

I averted my eyes. "Yes," I managed to force myself to say.

"And did you or did you not originally take the blame for the assault?"

"I did what any good sister would do," I replied, raising my eyes back to his. "But the short answer is, yes. I took the blame for the assault."

The D.A. sighed. "It was your idea to take the blame?"

I nodded. "Yes. It was all my idea."

The D.A. nodded. "No more questions for this witness," he said.

"You may step down now, Miss Milkovich," Judge Vincent said.

I nodded, the movement jerky. "Thank you, Your Honor," I managed to get out, and slowly got to my feet, and made my way around the judge's table, and back to the gallery, where I moved to sit, and collapsed in Pops's arms.

. . .

I was relieved when Mom volunteered to watch Hailey after Patsy's was closed on Saturday night, especially after Franny invited me out to cut loose, at it were, from the hard week we'd both been faced with. I allowed her to loan me one of her club outfits, and we used my car to drive to The Alibi Room. Uncle Kev was always sweet to us, giving us drinks by the time we were teenagers, and still to this day. As we trekked inside, but him and V were very excited to see the both of us, and we shot the breeze with them, over cold bottles of Old Style.

"How're you holding up?" Franny asked.

I shrugged, tipping the beer down my throat. "Fine, I guess. Axel's been calming down about the whole sex thing after I gave him head a week ago."

Franny made a face. "How'd that go?"

I scoffed. "Least he's not asking me to spread my legs," I joked.

"Ah, my fellow intoxicated brethren!" came the booming voice of Frank as he walked into the bar like he owned the place, plopping himself down on one of the barstools. "Oh, lookie what we got here! My two beautiful granddaughters!"

"Shut up, Frank," Franny and I said without hesitation.

I finished my bottle and sighed. "Want to get out of here?" I asked, wanting Franny to mull it over before it was ultimately decided. "Maybe find a club or something?"

She grinned. "Sure!" she said, and we left cash on the bar before heading out of there.

We got back into my car and drove into Downtown Chicago, where it was less of a ghetto area and far more trendy. We saw the flashing lights soon enough of the club district, and, when we parked my car in a joint-lot for the club hub, I allowed Franny to pick one at random. She flashed her real and I flashed my fake I.D. and we were let under the velvet rope and inside. There were flashing lights everywhere throughout the club, with a combination of upscale leather couches and those fuzzy ottomans littering various areas.

The bar was a sleek chrome monster of a thing, with expertly glass-cut bottles on the high shelves behind it. The seats actually had backs to them, and were bright silver with cushions sewn directly onto them, all in a stylish array of colors. As we approached the bartender, Franny winked at him, and soon we had some delicious-looking cocktails. We perched in our selected seats, sipping our drinks, and I was pleased to taste more fruit than alcohol, given that I would have to drive us both home later.

"What was this place called again?" I asked, speaking slightly louder so as Franny could hear me over the music.

"Verità," she replied. "What is that, Latin?"

"Italian," I replied. "It means 'truth." I turned and looked at the impressive DJ from across the way, who had an incredible mix, and all the dancing patrons kept throwing their hands in the air like they just didn't care.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," Franny said then, the venom in her voice palpable as I turned to regard her then, and followed her eyes to what must've been some VIP area. "Out of all the places…"

My heart sank like a stone in my stomach then, and I quickly brought my drink back to my lips, wanting desperately to numb the pain that I felt. "No problem here," I said, fiddling with the little umbrella in my drink. "Let's just get buzzed and get home, okay? Like we planned originally, right, Franny?"

"Why does he have to be in this club?!" Franny hissed, turning back to me, and I just shrugged my shoulders at her. "Isn't this bothering you?"

"Nope," I said, lying through my teeth. "Why would it?"

"Because, Liam is three yards away from us!" she cried out then. She turned back and regarded him then, shaking her head. "Is that Illiana sitting with him?"

I sighed; I didn't even need to look, because once I saw that beautiful head of gorgeous hair, I knew exactly who he was sitting with. "Yeah," I said quietly.

"You weren't wrong," Franny said, her tone bitter. "She is beautiful, with legs that go on forever, and a body to die for…"

"Don't rub it in," I said.

Franny turned back to me then, downing the rest of her drink. "Finish up," she said then, and I was immediately filled with relief, thinking we'd be going home after this.

I finished my drink, and Franny and I left some cash on the bar before hopping down from our chairs. As we had to pass the VIP area before leaving, I thought nothing of it, but my stomach proceeded to flip-flop when Franny came to a full-stop in front of it. "Franny, what are you…?" I demanded then, but she pinched me, silencing me.

"Liam!" she gushed. "Is that you?!"

"Franny, hey!" Liam said, stepping down the stairs and giving her a hug. "Great to see you. And you, Iana," he said, his beautiful, silvery eyes burning into me for a moment before they flickered back to Franny. "Please, join us."

Franny accepted Liam's offer and pulled me after her, and we sat in the small loveseat beside the couch that Liam and Illiana were sitting on. "I don't believe we've met," Franny said, extending her hand towards Illiana. "I'm Franny."

"Oh, of course, Franny!" Illiana said, her voice just as polite as the time I'd met her. "It's such a pleasure to meet Iana's cousin," she went on, taking Franny's hand in her own. "I'm Illiana. It's always so wonderful to meet friends of Liam's."

"I should say the same," Franny replied, and looked over at Illiana's ring. "I'd say that congratulations are in order."

Illiana blushed, kissing Liam's cheek. "I was so surprised and delighted when he pulled this out after her business ended in Italy last summer," she said, moving her hand this way and that so as the obnoxious diamond could catch the light.

"It's beautiful," Franny assured her.

"Thank you!" Illiana replied, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. She turned to look at me then and smiled. "I hear all about your brother's trial, Iana. It is all over the news outlets. I'm so sorry that they put you on the stand. It was highly inappropriate, if you ask me."

"I didn't," I replied, snapping at her, before my face flushed. "Excuse me," I said, getting to my feet and dashing out of there. I ran down the back hallway and into the ladies' room, before splashing cold water on my face. Even the fucking bathrooms were beautiful… I shook my head, turning around and opening the door, and came face to face with Liam.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hey," I said, and did my best to move past him.

"Iana, wait, please," he said, catching my wrist as I walked by. "Can we just talk for a moment, please? Just a moment, I promise."

"What about Illiana?" I sneered.

"Don't worry, Franny's entertaining her," he replied. "Please."

I sighed, and followed him up a set of stairs near the restrooms and we came to a series of doors, one of which he opened, which revealed a beautiful office. The room was complete with a finely-polished walnut desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a great number of paintings on its various walls. "La Belle Dame Sans Merci," I said quietly then, my eyes coming to rest upon one of the paintings before me, depicting a beautiful woman looking imploringly up at a literal knight in shining armor.

"I see you're familiar with Waterhouse."

I shrugged. "He's one of my favorites."

"Mine, too," Liam said, and, when I turned to look at him, he was smiling.

"I hardly came up here to discuss artwork, Liam," I said, crossing my arms. "How in the hell do you have access to this room, anyway?"

He sighed. "This is my club."

I scoffed. "Of course it is," I muttered. "Ironic, the name."

He blinked. "Ironic? Why?"

I shook my head at him. "Unbelievable. It's because you're a known liar, of course!" I said, spreading my hands.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Elaborate, please."

"You said yourself you weren't the relationship kind," I said, putting my hands on my hips, "and this was June, a mere four months ago. And you come back from a business trip to Italy this summer with what? A fucking fiancée on your arm!" I said, my voice shaking with a sudden burst of emotion. "I mean, what am I supposed to think, other than the obvious, which means that you lied to me!"

Liam shook his head. "I know how this looks, Iana," he said, his voice civil. "And, if I could give you all the reasons for why this happened, I would, but…"

"But you can't tell me, because you've decided that I'm too stupid to know anything," I said, my tone bitter as I moved to leave. "Fuck you, Liam. Fuck you. You broke my heart four months ago, and expect me to just lie back and accept it. Well, I can't. I can't accept it, and I won't. I vowed to never care about someone the way I care about you, but I guess I have fucking feelings, something you'll never know how to have."

"You don't think I have feelings, Iana?"

"It's perfectly clear what you do and don't have," I shot back, tears blinding me as I stood before him then. "I'll always, always be trash to you. Unworthy of knowing all about your personal life and why you are the way you are. You couldn't possibly have feelings of any kind for me, and you made that perfectly clear four months ago."

"How's this for feelings?" he said, grabbing ahold of me then without hesitation, and yanking me towards him, and, despite my protests, and screaming that I hated him, once his lips met mine, all rational thought went out the window.

Immediately, as we made contact, and I tasted him, all hope was lost. I anchored my mouth under his then, my tongue eagerly meeting his as I gripped onto his arms, and he allowed his fingertips to graze every which way of my back. I broke away, however, but made no moves to get out of his grip. "What about Illiana?" I whispered.

"What about Axel?" came his reply.

I shook my head at him then, pulling away completely then, and making my way towards the door, my heart heavy, and my soul heavier. "This is not happening, Liam. Not again. I won't let myself be swayed by kissing or anything like that. You had your chance with me, Liam Kennedy, and you lost it, from the minute you told me that we could only ever have fucking. I refuse to just have that with you, while you're with Illiana in public and I'm with Axel. It's not fair, is it, that we can't, for just a little while, be honest with each other?"

"I am being honest with you, Iana…"

"Yeah," I said, my tone bitter, "behind closed doors and omitting half the truth. I know it's fucking complicated, whatever it is that you've got going on with Illiana, but I don't give a shit how complicated it is. If you would just let me in…"

He sighed. "You know I can't do that, Iana."

I nodded. "Right," I said. "Well, I guess I can't change your mind…"

"Wait," he said, and I wrapped my hands around the door handle, "don't go."

I sighed. "I have to go, Liam, because I can't do this anymore. I'm tired," I whispered. "I'm so tired of all the lies and your half-truths. Get a life. If you want me in it again, I need the truth, because I think I might need you, too," I said, my voice breaking at the end as I forced myself from the room, and back down into the club.

"Hey," Franny said when I caught up to her.

"Where's Illiana?" I asked.

"Ladies' room," she reported. "You okay?"

"No," I replied. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, getting to her feet. "Sure," she replied, putting an arm around my shoulder and leading me out of there. "Are you going to be okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said quietly, forcing a smile to my lips. "I'll be okay."