Chapter 4 The Weight of Her Name

I walk in the middle of Quintin and his guards, shielded from the angry mob.

A bottle spins past me, smashing at the back of the guard's head.

Quintin's voice laces with swears and threats.

"Desirée, do you have anything to say to Mildred's family?"

A reporter asks.

"Are you innocent or have you bribed the court"

Another question.

"Why did you kill her?"

"Was it worth it?"

Desiréethedeathstrategist! they chant.

My breath comes in short, and my legs are heavy.

I scream as I feel a sharp pain in my scalp, bending me sideways. A shoe hits me as I grip the guard and tussle for my hair.

Though my back is against Quintin, I feel his movements- a snap, punch, and wail sound behind me. He hit the person who pulled my hair.

"Let's see you use that hand," he hisses, his body covering me as we move.

Three black SUVs pull up and four more guards surround us. One opens the door. I freeze.

"Get in" Quintin commands.

"My security?" I ask, with a shallow breath, moving backward. I try to dial them.

"Are you serious right now?" He interrogates.

"They are at the front. Fighting. Do as I say Desirée" he urges, trying to guide me in with his body.

I push against him, standing my ground but my knees betray me.

His firm grip tightens on my wrists. I try to break free and he immediately scoops me into the SUV. My phone slips, and he catches it mid-air.

He slams the door before I can react and the car starts moving.

"Mister!" I scream, hitting my hand hard across his face and pounding his chest with shaky hands while he places me on the seat.

He looks at me accusingly.

"I should be with my security" I cry out.

Heat pricks my skin as my heart hammers uncontrollably. I look at the changing scenery through his window.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight in danger," he says firmly, handing me my phone. "Your team is right behind us."

"I apologize for my force," his tone softens.

I dial my security. They pick, updating me on where we are headed. I sigh a little, I'm not alone.

I smooth out my dress, but my nerves are killing me.

"We're headed to my place at Buckhead. More security, less public access," he tells me.

"You're safe, you need to be calm."

I just want to go home.

Taking deep breaths, I hold the tears threatening to fall as I grip the edges of the scarf, staring at the blur outside.

My life used to be mine. Now I am hunted like a criminal and bundled into vehicles like an invalid. I am so tired.

My nails dig into my palm, "I did nothing wrong!"

"I know. I'm sorry" Quintin says in a soothing voice.

I didn't realize I said that out loud.

"Hurt people are trying to hurt you. You aren't alone, I got you," he reassures me.

Even though I don't feel so, it's almost comforting to hear the words. I let them marinate.

I inhale deeply, but the weight on my chest remains.

"Let me get this straight from you," he begins. Linking his fingers and pointing them my way.

"A former client who your coaching transformed her life had an issue with you"

I nod, watching the road.

"She began harassing you, you told her off. You go your separate ways, and then she dies with her kid sometime after"

"Six months after" I pitch in.

"How does it affect you?" he asks, brooding with pity.

Sir, mind your business, and that look? Pity? Pity!?

I press my lips together, silence settling between us.

He keeps his questioning gaze on me.

I'll have to tell him eventually, we have an agreement now.

"A client of mine posted her baby shower." I drawl, staring at my phone.

"I dropped a comment congratulating and wishing her well, praying for a healthy baby." I continue.

"Mildred, the deceased saw it, and things escalated"

I wonder if I should tell him. What would change?

He raises his eyebrows at me.

I scroll through the exchange, dreading every word before slowly handing him my phone.

"Take a look," I murmur.

Me: Congratulations Tori, your little one is so lucky to have you as its mum. I pray for a safe delivery, a healthy kid, and a happy family. You deserve this girl!

Mildred: Others deserve unhealthy kids?? You're a public figure, do better. This is appalling, it's no one's fault for having unhealthy kids and insulting both kids and mum is wrong.

"That's crazy," he whispers as he reads.

"My thoughts exactly. I was beyond shocked." I add,

"I told her I had said what I said."

Me: Ma'am, there is absolutely nothing wrong with what I said. It is a prayer and good wish, definitely not an insult. If you have a problem with it, that's on you.

"Hmmm," he muttered, listening to me as he read through.

With sweaty palms, I show him the next exchange.

"Next thing I know, she and her friends were accusing me of shaming sick kids and their mothers." I continue in a raspy tone

Mildred: You should be apologizing, not defending, it's that simple. "Praying" doesn't mean you didn't use it as a jab at others.

Lady 1: You've just insulted every mother with a sick child and that's what you have to say? You're getting on my nerves.

Me: Ladies, I'm going to pull back now, there's no point keeping up this conversation. We're on different wavelengths. Hugs and kisses, I wish you well.

Lady 2: I didn't want to get involved but you're condescending. We all make mistakes, you've been called out. Apologize instead of this display.

Me: *sends a bear hug gif*

Mildred: I'm hurt, nobody deserves such.

Lady 1: *Tags me* You've got an innocent mum in tears. You lack accountability. Eew

Lady 2: So sorry Mildred and other mums out there. She clearly has no manners.

"You're kidding me," Quintin says, mouth agape.

"This is insane!"

"Yep. I kid you not." I give him a dry smile.

"To think I took a screen recording of the whole exchange because it was... hilarious,"

My voice cracks as I grip my phone.

"But now it's my proof."

"You did nothing wrong," he assures.

I scoff, "Try telling the public. They're deaf to my point of view.

"At the time, I thought it would blow over. And it did... for months. Until she died."

I tremble, suffocated by everything.

He swore under his breath, drumming his fingers on the seat.

"They started a fire and are throwing you in the flames," his jaws clench.

"Burn the witch," I mutter, taking off my shades.

"That's not funny" he objects, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

I take a shaky breath to ease my heart, nothing.

I continue telling the story.

"The highlight is, she started harassing me. Hating in my comments, attending my events, causing scenes, hurting herself in the process."

I dig my nails into my palm in habit, closing my eyes.

"At that point, I had to tell her off, I was ready to report to the police."

I remember the community meet and greet, she was in attendance with her child. Talking loud, out of point, aggressive, ignoring instructions, scattering decorations.

Her child was crying. A crowd was forming. Other guests were leaving!

"I warned her," I whisper.

"You are making a fool of yourself! Don't involve me."

I had said, dragging her to a corner, my finger in her face.

"Watch your back lady, you're crossing the line. You're spiraling, and if this continues, something bad might happen. To you, or your child. Get help. Please."

I glanced at her wailing kid.

"Just go home to your family, and leave me alone. You need help."

I peel my eyes open, meeting Quintin's. I search for a reaction.

He doesn't move. Just stares at me, brooding, fists tight. As if trying to decide if I'm a victim..or a villain.

I whisper, "That was it. The moment I became the bad guy."

My phone vibrates. My eyes lock on the sender. Mildred.

My throat tightens. This- this can't be real.

"You deserve this. You should have apologized." it reads.