Page 152 of Freed

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A short laugh escapes her. “That would be easier if your husband didn’t lock the penthouse.”

“Yes,” I say dryly. “That sounds like Lorenzo.”

Her eyes sharpen. “So what are you telling me? To run? To stay? To trust you?”

Trust. What a ridiculous word.

“No,” I say. “I’m telling you to be smarter than he is possessive and faster than my father is cruel.”

She absorbs that in silence.

“And what about you?”

The question catches me off guard.

“What about me?”

“What happens if your father finds out you warned me?”

I look at her for a long moment. Then I answer honestly. “Then I suffer for it.”

Her face hardens. “I won’t let that happen.”

“You may not be in a position to decide that,” I say.

“I’m more in a position than you think.”

I believe her. That may be the most dangerous thing of all. Iglance toward the windows again, toward the blazing skyline and the life Lorenzo carved out here for her. A life full of light, even if it is still a prison. Then I look back at Birdie.

“You need to make him listen,” I say quietly. “Because if Lorenzo believes walls are enough to keep danger out, then he has forgotten what kind of men made him.”

Her jaw tightens.

“He already forgot once,” she says. “I nearly lost my baby because of it.”

There is so much bitterness in that sentence that for the first time since arriving, I feel something close to solidarity.

“Yes,” I say softly. “That sounds familiar too.”

A silence falls. There’s so much more I want to say, but I’ve already said too much.

“I should go before your guards decide I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Birdie doesn’t move to stop me. But as I turn away, she says, “Francesca.”

I glance back.

“Thank you.”

I hold her gaze for a moment. Then I say the cruelest honest thing I have left.

“Don’t thank me yet. If Lorenzo has really chosen you, then being loved by him may prove far more dangerous than being married to him.”

I leave her with that because it is true. As the elevator doors close and the bright penthouse disappears from view, I understand something with terrible clarity:

Birdie may be his first choice.

But first choices bleed too.