Chapter 94 Midnight Meeting

Chapter 94 Midnight Meeting
“You're not going.” Beck's voice was sharp, his body blocking the door. I'd waited until he was asleep, then tried to slip out. “I didn't tell you so you could stop me.”

“You didn't tell me at all. I found you putting on your shoes.”

“Because you would have done this.”

“You're right.” He grabbed his jacket. “So I'm coming with you.”

The old rink sat in darkness, its windows boarded up, the parking lot cracked and empty. Beck killed the engine but left the headlights on.

“Wait here,” I said.

“Not a chance.”

We walked to the entrance together. The door was unlocked, swinging open with a groan. Inside, the ice was long gone, replaced by concrete and dust. A figure stood at center, hood up, back to us.

“You came.” The voice was familiar. The figure turned, pulling down the hood.

Celeste.

“You sent the text?” I asked.

“I had to warn you. Vanessa is Margaret's eyes and ears. She's been reporting everything back to her.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I'm the one who's been feeding you information. The photograph of Margaret shaking hands with the man the night your mother was arrested. The letter from my mother. All of it.”

Beck stepped forward. “You've been playing both sides.”

“I've been trying to survive.” Celeste's voice cracked. “Margaret killed my mother. She'll kill me if she finds out I'm helping you.”

“So why risk it?”

“Because you're the only one who can stop her.”

I looked at Beck. His jaw was tight, but he didn't interrupt.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Confront her. Publicly. Tell everyone what she did. Use your platform.”

“My platform is a book about body positivity.”

“Your platform is people who trust you. Use them.”

I thought about the fans who'd told me my book saved their lives. The girl at the rink who said she'd stopped cutting. The mother who'd bought copies for her bullied daughter.

“That's manipulation.”

“That's survival.”

Beck grabbed my arm. “We're leaving.”

“Not yet.” I pulled free. “Celeste, if I do this, you have to testify. Publicly. On the record.”

“I will.”

“And you have to give Elena all the evidence you have.”

“Done.”

I turned to Beck. “We're doing this.”

His eyes were dark, but he nodded. “Then we do it together.”

We met Elena the next morning. Celeste handed over a flash drive with bank records, emails, and the letter from her mother. Elena's face was grim.

“This is enough for a warrant.”

“Then get one.”

“It'll take time.”

“We don't have time.” I stood up. “Margaret is coming for me. Vanessa is watching us. Celeste is terrified.”

Elena looked at Beck. “Can you keep her safe?”

“With my life.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It's the only one I have.”

We went to Margaret's house that afternoon. No appointment. No warning. Beck waited in the car. I walked up the path alone.

Margaret opened the door. She didn't look surprised.

“Ivy. I was wondering when you'd come.”

“You know why I'm here.”

“Celeste.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”

I stayed on the porch. “I'm not here to talk. I'm here to tell you to leave me alone. Leave Celeste alone. Leave everyone alone.”

“Or what?”

“Or I go public. With everything.”

She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. “You think that scares me?”

“I think it should.”

“I've survived worse than a teenage girl with a book deal.”

“You've survived by destroying anyone who got in your way.”

“No.” She stepped closer. “I've survived by being smarter. Faster. More ruthless.” She touched my face. I flinched. “You have my blood. You could be all of those things.”

“I'm not you.”

“Not yet.”

She went inside and closed the door.

I walked back to the car. Beck was out before I reached it.

“What happened?”

“She's not scared.”

“Then we make her scared.”

“How?”

He pulled me into a hug. “We live. We thrive. We show her that we're not going anywhere.”

“That's not a plan.”

“It's a start.”

Vanessa was waiting outside Beck's apartment. Camera around her neck, notepad in hand.

“Ivy. Beckett. Can I have a moment?”

“No.” Beck unlocked the door.

“Margaret is going to destroy you both. I'm trying to help.”

I turned around. “By spying on us?”

“By giving you a chance to tell your side of the story.” She held up her notepad. “Off the record. Just between us.”

Beck grabbed my arm. “Inside. Now.”

I followed him. The door closed behind us.

“She's not going to stop.”

“Neither are we.”

We sat on the couch, not talking. The TV was on, but neither of us was watching.

“Ivy.”

“Yeah.”

“What if she's right? What if we can't win?”

“Then we make sure she loses too.”

He pulled me close. “I love you.”

I didn't say it back. I just held on.

My phone buzzed at midnight—unknown number.

“Vanessa isn't the only one watching. Check your window.”

I walked to the window. The street was empty.

But on the sill, a single photograph. Me and Beck, walking out of Margaret's house.

The caption on the back: “Family watches family. Always.”

I turned the photograph toward Beck.

His face went white.

“We need to leave.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

Outside, a car engine started.

Headlights flared through the blinds.

Then went dark.

They were still watching.

They always would be.