Page 98 of Delicate Hearts
“Yep.”
“Do you know what you could do with eleven million?” she presses, letting out a low whistle. She shakes her head, and I can’t get over how great an actress she is, on top of being an amazing podcaster.
“Of course, I know what I could do. Buy a house, a new car, never work again, but every fucking day I would be thinking about how I’m living in a house paid for with money from a guy who practically destroyed my life. For over five years, I lived in an emotionally abusive relationship, and he doesn’t get to win.”
“What do you tell people who think you should have just taken the money? There will be people who say that, and there will also be people who are saying you’re doing this for money.”
I’ve thought about this question more than the others. It’s hard not to worry about what other people think, and the gossip that will continue to surround my breakup feels the hardest to overlook.
Already being called a gold digger, that I’m in it for the money, the attention, that I married Sean for the fame and being attached to it.
“This has never been about the money for me. I get that people will scoff at that comment, laugh at me, call me names and whatever, but it isn’t. I married Sean because I believed I loved him, and I thought he loved me. What he loved was himself, and I genuinely believe he just wanted someone who would stand next to him and look pretty, but not too pretty.”
I pause, letting out a chuckle. I’m rambling, but Allie smiles at me, rolling a hand to tell me to keep going.
“I was so damn close to being that girl, the girl who just stood by him and smiled. I would’ve had babies with him. I desperately wanted to, and not for all the shit people think. Like I’d have him for eighteen years then, but because I lost my parents. I was so desperately chasing the love of a family. Thank fuck that never materialized,” I say, letting out a humorless laugh.
“This isn’t a drama thing for me, even though that’s what people think. Sitting here with you, this is for anyone who has ever been emotionally abused, for people who feel like their brain has been rewired, for people who are scared to leave, scared that saying anything at all will make them mad.”
“It took you a bit to agree to do the podcast,” Allie says. “Why?”
“Because even though I left him, I was still scared to piss him off. He showed up at my house, at a bar I was at, threatened me, and that’s when I was like, ‘fuck you, fuck your money and fuck your privacy.’ Why would I protect someone who never once protected me?”
“Whoa, that’s a strong statement,” Allie muses, deep in thought about what I’ve just said.
“And there were women before me, women who dealt with all the same shit I did, and they signed. He silenced them.”
“How does he manage to do this?” Allie questions, genuinely curious.
“He is a master manipulator. I thought he was an amazing guy when we first met because for six months, that’s who he showed me. And I fell in love with a fake person, someone he created to get me to trust him. Six months of love bombing, keeping me from the media and all the gossip, telling me that other women were trying to ruin his life. And when no one stood up for him, that should have been a sign. Then it was like a switch flipped, and he became controlling and mean. Yelling at me while I cried myself to sleep. Everything was my fault, but then I’d wake up the next morning, and he’d be apologizing, telling me he loved me, and that he was sorry. He was going to change because he needed me. That I couldn’t leave because he would die without me.”
“Fuck, it was that dramatic?” Allie asks, and I nod, the tears welling in my eyes at the thought of how I survived it.
“It was a constant cycle of build me up, beat me down, and then apologize profusely. I hate to say this out loud because of the judgment, but I’d probably still be with him if I hadn’t walked in on him fucking another woman.”
Admitting that out loud feels embarrassing but also freeing, and when I look over at Kai, worried I’ll see apprehension and judgment on his face, I don’t.
All I see is love.
Sitting here, listening to Quinn tell her story, watching as Allie nods in encouragement at every word that falls from her mouth, I feel a strange feeling start to build in my chest. I can’t believe the level of shit she put up with from this guy, and given everything she knows, I can see why he’s trying so hard to throw money at her to keep her quiet.
That she’s not being quiet is yet another sign of how brave she is.
She could so easily take the easy way out—sign the NDA, take the eleven million dollars and just get on with her life. But she’s not. Instead, she’s not only telling her story. She’s giving a voice to all the women he has managed to silence in the past.
And holy fuck, if that isn’t all kinds of awesome.
“So was Sean ever abusive?” Allie now asks, as my stomach twists with anxiety.
I glance at Quinn, who is running her thumb over her knuckles. “Physically, no,” she says after a moment. “But emotionally, absolutely.”
Allie nods again, a sympathetic smile on her face as she consults her list of questions before looking back at Quinn. “Alright, I think we’re almost at the end here,” she says. “Just one final question.”
Quinn smiles because she knows what the question is, and it’s probably the one question she’s wanted to be asked. “Go ahead,” she prompts, like she doesn’t already know what her answer is.
Allie’s smile widens as she asks, “So if Sean has silenced so many, but you’re refusing to be silenced, what’s the one thing you would say to him right now on behalf of you and all the women before you?”
I watch as she takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly before she says, “I’d tell him he doesn’t get to control us anymore.” She pauses for a second, head tilted to the side as though she’s thinking. “And also to eat a bag of dicks,” she adds, shrugging as she and Allie both laugh.
