Chapter 237: A Message (1)
Colleen’s voice cracked and then broke open, all the anger and grief she’d held at bay spilling out in a single, jagged rush.
"How can you protect us?" she demanded, hands trembling. "My sister doesn’t even drink, and yet she died because of that unbelievable accident.
She worked herself to death after she found out she was pregnant. The father ran away from his responsibility. She spent months at sea so her daughter could eat, and then they told us it was an accident because she was driving under the influence?
It wasn’t an accident. It was murder! And now you, people from the same world that hurt her, tell me you’ll keep us safe? How am I supposed to trust that?" Colleen burst out in tears.
Nick had no words. The confident composure he wore vanished; he simply watched, stunned by the rawness of Colleen’s grief. Georgia, however, felt every knot of it like a hand on her own chest—this was the same feeling of helpless rage she’d known the night her brother died.
Without thinking, she closed the distance. She wrapped Colleen in an earnest, steady hug and let the woman unload all over her shoulder. Georgia’s own tears came before she realized it, wet and hot, matching Colleen’s sobs.
"Cry it all out," Georgia whispered into Colleen’s hair. "Let it out. It will still hurt tomorrow, and the next day, and maybe forever—but that pain will make you stronger. It will give you the strength to keep going for your niece.
I know because I live with that same pain every day after my brother died. You’ll never accept what happened, because you shouldn’t. Your sister didn’t deserve that. Your niece didn’t deserve it. And you didn’t deserve it. But one day, you will be able to learn to live with it. Someday, far from now, you’ll look back and be proud that you kept going. You’ll have done right by her."
The words landed like a small pat on the back. Colleen’s shoulders shook; then, suddenly depleted, she sagged and slid to the floor, the weeks of grief finally collapsing through her knees. She cried so hard that the sound caught.
Georgia and Nick moved as one. Georgia dropped to her own knees to catch Colleen’s weight; Nick reached for a blanket that was on the sofa and folded it around the woman’s shoulders.
They held her there—no speeches, no promises beyond the immediate warmth of arms, until her breathing slowed and the tremors eased.
For the first time since the accident, Colleen lifted her head and met Georgia’s eyes. In them, she saw not pity but recognition: someone who had been bruised by the same world and refused to be broken by it. In that small, fragile moment, Colleen realized she wasn’t alone anymore.
Colleen’s hands trembled as she wiped the last of her tears, her gaze sharpening with a mixture of fear and resolve.
"My sister... she was a witness," she whispered.
The words landed like a blow, making both Georgia and Nick freeze, their breaths catching in their throats.
Colleen’s eyes glistened, but her voice grew steadier as she went on. "But before I tell you everything, I need proof that you can protect us.
The day she died, she begged me to pack our things. We were leaving. She was rushing, said she’d explain everything once she got back. But she never did. She died that same day." Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. "I saw it. I saw everything. I am a witness too. If you want my statement, then move us out of here. Keep us safe."
Her words hung heavy in the room. Then, with a determined breath, Colleen turned to Nick. "I’ll accept your offer. My niece deserves an education, all the way to college. And I need a job. Something stable, so I can raise her when this is all over. That’s all I’m asking for."
Nick’s expression softened, though his voice carried his usual steel. "Consider it done. You have my word. We can leave today if you’re ready. Pack what you can, and I’ll have my men take care of the rest. They’ll move everything to a safehouse. I’ll call them right now."
Colleen gave a shaky nod, relief flickering in her weary eyes. "Okay... I’ll pack." She turned quickly, calling her niece to her side before disappearing into the bedroom with hurried steps.
Nick didn’t waste another second. He stepped outside, pulling his phone from his pocket, his voice low and commanding as he spoke to Oliver and then to the men he trusted most. Every order he gave carried the weight of urgency, the kind that left no room for mistakes.
Georgia sat quietly on the sofa, her phone in hand as she typed a quick message to her staff, letting them know she might not be able to return to the office today. Just as she hit send, a small shadow appeared in front of her. Katie, clutching a doll, held it out with both hands.
Georgia’s expression softened instantly. She smiled, pulling Katie into her lap. "Are you enjoying the dolls? Do you want me to buy you one like this?"
Katie’s eyes widened with hopeful light. "You will?"
Georgia let out a warm chuckle. "Of course, anything for my sweet girl. Just tell me—which one do you like best?"
"Wait here!" Katie slid off her lap with excitement, ran back to the corner where the toys were scattered, and returned with a doll clasped tightly to her chest. She handed it over eagerly. "This one! Because it talks."
"Oh? Really? Let me hear." Georgia pressed the doll’s hand, expecting a cheerful tune or phrase. Instead, a distorted voice crackled out:
"P.O. Box... 1949... contact the pol#^$(#..."
Georgia’s brows furrowed. She pressed it again, but the recording was the same—garbled, eerie, broken.
At that moment, Colleen emerged from the bedroom, her niece now dressed and ready. "Can you keep an eye on her while I finish packing?" she asked.
"Of course," Georgia replied, still holding the doll. "But tell me—where did you get this? Katie wants one, I was thinking I could check online."
Colleen frowned, shaking her head. "I don’t know. My sister bought it right after her last contract on that cruise ship. It’s one of those recordable ones, you can save a message."
Georgia’s stomach knotted. She stood, extending the doll toward Colleen. "Is this... her voice?"
She pressed the hand again. The strange recording filled the room.
Colleen’s face went pale. She snatched the doll, listening once more, her hand trembling. Then, with a sharp gasp, she dropped it as though it burned her.
"Colleen!" Georgia rushed forward, worry painted across her face. "What is it?" But Colleen remained frozen in her spot while staring at the doll on the floor.