channeling my anger into violet 😈

I was scrolling through TikTok when the door swung open.  "My office.  Now."  As quickly as he entered, Gabe let the door slam shut, expecting me to follow him.  

With a groan, I pushed myself up from the conference room table, pocketing my phone and closing my laptop before obeying.  

When I got to his office, my boss snapped, "Close the door," as if I already wasn't going to do that.

"Who got your panties all in a bunch?" I asked, plopping down in front of him.

Gabe was not amused.  "I told you I wanted to meet about the Winters case right away this morning.  Where were you?"

"Um, doing the fucking job you hired me to do."

He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, then pressed his palms flat against the desk, leaning towards me.  "The fucking job I hired you to do involves obeying my orders."  His tone was dangerously low, indicating that I was inches away from him retrieving his cane.

But it'd been a rough few days, so I wasn't ready to back down so easily.  Between Izaak's weekend of torture (which I won the bet, btw), Clo's lies, and the plethora of pieces I'd found to confirm my intuition, I was in no mood to deal with his bullshit.  Pushing myself up from the chair, I also rested my fists against the desk, leaning towards him.  "What the hell is your problem?  You don't trust me?  You don't think I'm moving mountains to find the fucking evidence to give you?"

He knew I was picking a fight, but didn't entertain me.  "What did you find in Seattle?" 

adding emotions to the next chapter

Chloe Peterson.

Hearing Izaak say her name like that stunned me into silence the rest of the meeting. My mind was racing too much to even pay attention to Clo's caning or the chit chat that followed. I was stuck on remembering the yearbook picture... a blonde girl from Lansing, Michigan, with a slight smirk and high school grades that reflected what could be the work of a con artist.

[[right now I'm in shock and denial.  It can't be her, can it?  What are the chances?]]

The pieces connected – Clo’s curiosity about the case, sneaking in when we visited Sage, all those "good deals" she got us in Seattle, giving in so easily to me spanking her, the story about her criminal father…

Goddammit.  There were so many signs and I never saw it!

[[I'm feeling stupid, like the evidence was so obvious, right there in front of me, and my dumbass didn't see it.  Right under my nose the whole time... how did I not see it?  But I'm also feeling conflicted... because really?  Sweet innocent little Clo?  But now the evidence is pointing straight to her.  Did she talk to Sage at all?  I was so caught up in my anger towards her that I hadn't even noticed...]]

[is sobriety making my writing worse?]

As I laid in Izaak's bed staring at the ceiling, I thought back over the last 24 hours.  All the research I'd done — not only on Chloe Peterson, but also the handful of other young women who could potentially be Pattie Cake.  The conversation with Molly.  Gabe's insistence that I give him some concrete evidence after the weekend.  Taking Clo to the rooftop, high out of my mind, numbing the anger, betrayal, and fear.  Izaak's protective vibe and curiosities about if he knew the truth with his roommate.  And now, laying next to her in bed, completely sober, my impulsive instincts wanting to take over.

"Why did your dad go to jail?"  I rolled over to face her, even though it was dark and I could barely see the outline of her thin body.

Her breathing stopped for a moment, and I wondered if she would ignore my question.  When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and measured.  "He had some elaborate con with some business in Chicago.  I don't know all the details... I was pretty young and my granny kept me out of the loop."  She swallowed.  "Why do you want to know?"

"How did he get caught?" I wondered aloud, then thinking of my wonderful therapist friends, I added, "What was it like for you?"

There was an awkward silence.  She clearly didn't want to talk about this, but as I've been told, I don't know when to stop asking questions.  Or maybe I do, and just don't give a fuck.

5 day streak!

(my weekend goal is to review everything I already have written for the upcoming chapters so I can revise and post them!)

All of the evidence was pointing to Chloe Peterson as Pattie Cake, and there were too many coincidences with Clo. 

Both of them had a criminal father who went to jail the same year.  Clo had seemed believable when she told me her dad's name was Lester, but as a professional liar, I hesitated to believe her — Lester was also too close to her grandma's name.

And speaking of grandma's, Chloe Peterson's guardian seemed to be her grandma, and Clo admitted several times that she was close to her granny.  Not to mention Clo's grandma died around the same time Winters received the threatening call from Pattie Cake, and right before Clo moved in with Izaak.

And Pattie met Winters shortly after Izaak moved to NYC.

And those piercing, sexy blue eyes.

I'd gotten as much info from Izaak as I could without compromising the case.  I'd asked him enough about Clo's history and he was just too private about that kind of stuff.  As hard to read as Clo herself.  

It was just all adding up.  

Molly's plea came to mind — It seems like you don't have enough against her yet to accuse her.  And the stakes are too high to just turn her in like that without knowing for sure. 

Did I have enough info now?  How much did I need before telling him my suspicions?  Would it even be possible to know without a shadow of doubt? 

violet flashback

I sat in the backseat of Gabe's car staring at the flashing lights while he finished smoothing everything over with the cops for me.  Andy and his cousin, Leo, were in cuffs leaning against the trunk of the cop car, arguing with one of the officers.  The scene formed a pit in my stomach.  My ex-boyfriend and his crew had already caused enough drama, threatening me within inches of my life, calling immigration with lies about my brother, pulling a gun on Gabe... I should've learned my lesson already, but of course I hadn't.

The door opening snapped me out of my thoughts as Gabe plopped down next to me with a loud sigh.  His driver glanced back in the rearview mirror, waiting for the half nod from Gabe, signaling to head home.  The clock on the dashboard read 3:19am.

"Where's Molly?" I wondered aloud.

Gabe's sharp glare made me question if I had said something wrong.  "Home, where she should have been this whole time."  There was a fierce protectiveness as he said it, a side of him that rarely came out.

As the driver pulled into the empty Manhattan streets, I swallowed a lump in my throat, taking a few deep breaths to steady my racing heart.  Gabe's icy silence gave me all the information I needed — he was pissed and no amount of talking would get me out of this.  It was the longest 20-block ride I'd ever taken.

just trying to do this daily writing thing...

I woke up Sunday morning parched and with a pounding headache, instantly regretting my night of freedom.  As much as I hated Gabe's control, there were moments (like this) where I was thankful that he had stepped in when he did.  Who knows what kind of mess I would be in without him?

The hangover prevented me from wanting to roll out of bed, so instead I laid there and thought about everything that had happened over the last couple of days.  Realizing Clo was Pattie Cake, our late night meeting where she confessed, Andy's blackmail, Gabe and Izaak flipping out when they found out we went to Dominic's.  I was mad at myself for promising Clo that I'd keep shit quiet, regretting that decision almost in the exact moment that I made it, even though I owed her one.  I badly wanted to talk to Gabe — he would know how to fix it all.  But there was a part of me that feared that he would choose Winters over Clo.

It's his job to side with Winters. The same thing Clo had told me to convince me not to tell.  And the truth.

And it's my job to find Clo.  

My heart thumped inside my chest as I thought about keeping this knowledge from Gabe a second longer.  My loyalty should be to Gabe, not Clo... I barely even knew her... and she's a con artist!  Who knows how honest she was even able to be with me.  

eh, failed attempt

For the first time in months, I felt calm.  My focus solely on the art in front of me while Toby stayed close by, radiating a feeling of safety that I'd needed for a while.  It was different than how I felt with Izaak — my roommate would protect me at all costs, but his fierce loyalty to the FBI had me skeptical of where I stood.  Toby looked for a different kind of intimacy... he wanted to see every part of me, and accept all of those parts, regardless of whether I accepted myself.  He asked all the right questions, genuinely curious about my past, not allowing me to hide.  It was so refreshing, I almost wanted to confess everything to him.  Almost.

When our art was complete, I took a step back and looked it over.  "I feel like an official street artist now," I said with a grin, glancing over at Toby.  He was splattered with paint, all the way from his Vans up to his backward hat he always wore to running group.

trying to get back into writing

Violet's intensity was scaring me.  "Please don't tell anyone... just give me some time, I'll figure something out..."

"Bro," she began, shaking her head.  "I ain't promising shit.  How long you been a con artist?  I need the details."  

I ignored the way my stomach twisted in knots, straightening up and steadying my breathing.  "I'll tell you everything... just please... Gabe can't know... and Izaak..."

"You really think Sergeant Douche is that clueless?"  She cocked an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leaned back, giving me a glare that sent a chill down my spine.

He has to be, I thought, or he wouldn't still keep me around, right? "It started when my granny got sick..."

"Don't play the pity card," she warned, taking a sip of her drink but urging me to continue.

"I don't need your pity."  The conviction in my voice surprised both of us.  I cleared my throat.  "She needed care that I couldn't provide.  There aren't many quick way to make money... and you've seen me, there's no way I could pull off being a drug dealer."

"What about dear ol' dad?  He didn't have his own con money to share?"

I shook my head.  "He was already in jail.  All his resources had been used up for a legal defense, which obviously didn't work it.  It was just granny and me.  I was like 20... working shitty part time jobs."

"Izaak had already left."  Framed more as a statement, but I nodded anyway.  "Would you have done it if he hadn't?"

"Who knows.  I was desperate and men are usually easy to trick."

Family meeting, Toby loses his shit

(Written by ChatGPT, but I wanted to save this somewhere) The silence was unbearable. My confession sat heavy in the air, poisoning everything. I couldn’t look up. Couldn’t breathe. I just sat there, small and trembling, wishing I could disappear. Toby’s voice cut through like a blade. “You did what?” I flinched. His chair scraped back as he stood abruptly, the sound sharp and jarring. My eyes stayed fixed on the floor, my stomach twisting. “Say it again.” I didn’t. “Look at me, Molly.” His voice left no room for refusal. I forced my gaze up, and the anger on his face knocked the breath out of me. “You forged my name?” Toby’s voice rose, incredulous. “You stole my credentials and lied about it?” “I’m—I’m sorry, Toby,” I whispered, my voice breaking. Toby let out a bitter laugh, pacing like he couldn’t contain the frustration vibrating off him. “You’re sorry? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” I couldn’t respond. My throat felt locked tight. And that made him snap. “Of course you’re sorry. That’s how this always goes, isn’t it? You screw up, you cross the line, and then you sit there—like this—waiting for someone to come and rescue you!” “Enough, Toby,” Gabe said firmly from his seat. “Calm down.” But Toby ignored him, his focus locked on me. “That’s all this is, Molly. You screw up, and then you wait for someone to swoop in and pull you out of the mess you made. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” “That’s not fair!” Violet burst out, her voice sharp and protective. She shot up from her seat, stepping toward Toby like she might physically stop him. “Back off, Toby! You don’t get to talk to her like that.” “Stay out of this, Violet,” Toby snapped, his frustration boiling over. “Like hell I will!” she shot back, glaring at him. “You’re being a dick, and we all know it. Molly doesn’t need this shit right now—” “She doesn’t need this?” Toby turned on her now, his voice louder, angrier. “She needs to hear the truth! She’s not some helpless kid, even if she wants to act like it!” “That’s enough,” Gabe said, his voice colder this time. He stood, his tall frame adding authority to the room. “Toby, sit down.” But Toby didn’t stop. “No! She sits there crying because she wants someone to punish her, someone to fix it for her, so she doesn’t have to sit with what she’s done. And you—” he gestured sharply to Violet—“you’re just enabling it!” “Excuse me?” Violet shot back, taking another step closer, her face flushed with anger. “Stop it,” Gabe said again, stepping between them now. “Both of you.” He turned to Violet. “You’re not helping.” Violet crossed her arms, but she stopped. Barely. Toby, however, turned his fire back on me. His voice cracked, raw and unfiltered. “You like this, don’t you, Molly? Sitting there feeling small and broken so someone else can put you back together. That’s what you want. Rescued, punished, forgiven—like nothing ever happened. But that’s not how this works. You don’t get to just cry it out and move on.” “Toby,” Izaak said, his voice low and steady, but it carried a quiet force. “You need to stop. Now.” Toby ignored him, his words spiraling. “You’re not helpless, Molly. You choose to act like this. But here’s the truth: nobody’s coming to save you. You have to save yourself.” The silence that followed was deafening. I sat there, frozen, tears falling silently down my face. I didn’t fight back. I couldn’t. “Toby,” Izaak said again, stepping closer now, his voice calm but unyielding. “You’ve said enough. Leave.” Toby’s chest heaved, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then his face twisted, and he turned sharply, grabbing his jacket and storming out. The door slammed behind him so hard it rattled the windows. Violet was still fuming, pacing in front of the couch. “What the hell is his problem? Who the fuck does he think he is?” “Violet,” Gabe said sharply, turning to face her. “Enough.” She scowled, throwing her hands up. “I’m not the one who just tore Molly apart!” “No, but you’re not helping by escalating him,” Gabe said, his tone cutting through her fire. “Sit down.” Violet grumbled but flopped onto the couch, her arms crossed. I didn’t look up. My tears kept falling, silent and steady. My chest felt hollow, and Toby’s words rang in my head on repeat. “Molly…” Gabe’s voice was quieter now, more careful. “Toby was out of line. You know that, right?” I nodded faintly, but the guilt wouldn’t lift. He wasn’t wrong. Izaak crouched in front of me, his voice soft but firm. “Molly. Look at me.” I forced myself to meet his eyes. They weren’t angry. Just steady and serious. “You made a mistake. That doesn’t mean you’re helpless. Don’t let him make you believe that.” I nodded again, the lump in my throat too big to speak. “We’ll deal with Toby,” Gabe said quietly, his voice calmer now. “You’re not alone in this. But you need to talk to us, Molly. Sitting with the guilt and not letting us in won’t fix anything.” I nodded once more, but the weight of everything still sat heavy in my chest. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to take it all back. And I knew I couldn’t.

Violet and Izaak convo after everyone knows

“Do you miss her?” I wanted to know, gazing out at the river from our seat on the bench at Astoria park. He didn’t respond immediately, which was normal for Izaak, but cause me to glance at him for a moment. He was looking at me, eyebrows cocked in confusion, wondering where the hell that question came from. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” I appreciated his vulnerability, rather than acting like the tough macho guy I’d first thought he was. “Why though? She’s a fucking liar.” Izaak looked away, wanting to argue but, being a master of self-control, didn’t allow himself. “Chloe is… has been… a good friend.” “How? You barely even talked to her for a couple of years!” The memory of Gabe abandoning me still stung… It was hard to keep the passion out of my voice. “Even without regularly communicating, I kept an eye on her. I protected her from afar.” “But what does she bring to relationships besides deceit?” Izaak nodded, ready to turn this back on me. “You’re still upset at how she hid her true identity from you.” I didn’t want to take the bait… I wanted to keep interrogating him… but my feels got the best of me. “Obviously. I don’t know what or who to believe anymore. As if it’s not already hard enough to trust people, she just made it worse. Bro, I opened up to her, shared some dark shit, and she just lied. Didn’t reciprocate. I’m trying to make nice with her for Molly's sake, but also wanna kick her to the curb.” I sighed. “But it’s not my apartment, so not my call. I guess I need to get the fuck out.” We sat in silence for a moment, watching a couple of squirrels chasing each other. Then Izaak spoke in a low, understanding tone. “Everything wasn’t a lie. There are parts of who you saw that were actually authentically her. She’s a good friend in the sense that she really sees you. She’s curious about people and brings that to her friends. She can sense when you’re hurting and wants to make it better. She picks up on subtleties, like if you don’t want to talk about it and prefer to exert your control over her so you can feel powerful again. She knows what’s missing and helps you become whole again.”