Azalea guided a shaking Eliza out of the jewelry store and into a quiet, upscale café two doors down.
She pushed Eliza into a booth and ordered two double espressos.
"Okay," Azalea said, sitting down and staring Eliza dead in the eye. "Spill. You're married. For real."
Eliza nodded. She was twisting the ring on her finger, the metal warm against her skin.
"Who is he?" Azalea demanded. "And don't give me that 'complicated' crap again. Anson looked like he wanted to murder someone. I need a name."
Eliza took a deep breath. She looked at her best friend. Azalea had saved her from bullies in high school. She had snuck her food when Anson locked her in her room. She couldn't lie to her.
"Promise you won't scream," Eliza pleaded.
Azalea crossed her arms. "Try me."
"It's... Dallas. Your father."
Azalea blinked. Once. Twice. The ambient noise of the café seemed to warp and fade into a dull roar. Her face went blank, a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, her brain visibly rebooting as it processed the impossible words.
Then, a slow, dangerous grin began to spread across her face.
"You're... my stepmom?" Azalea whispered.
Eliza flinched, covering her face with her hands. "It's just a contract! For protection! I needed to get away from Anson, and he... he offered."
Azalea burst out laughing. It was a loud, joyous cackle that startled a waiter carrying a tray of pastries.
"Oh my god," Azalea gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. "Anson is going to lose his mind. He's going to stroke out."
Eliza peeked through her fingers. "You're not mad?"
"Mad?" Azalea leaned forward, grabbing Eliza's hands. "Eliza, I have been trying to get Dad to date for five years. He's a monk! A workaholic robot! And you... you are perfect."
"But he's your dad," Eliza said weakly. "It's weird."
"He's lonely," Azalea said, her voice turning serious. "And you need a tank to fight Anson. My dad is a tank. He's a nuclear submarine."
Azalea squeezed Eliza's hands. "We are going to destroy Claudine and Anson. We are going to bury them."
Eliza felt a wave of relief wash over her, so strong it nearly knocked her over. She wasn't losing her best friend. She had gained an ally.
"Thank you," Eliza whispered.
"Don't thank me yet," Azalea said, pulling out her phone. "We have work to do. Dad's credit card is crying out to be used."
"I can't spend his money," Eliza protested.
"It's not his money," Azalea winked. "It's 'step-mommy support.'"
Eliza groaned, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
Azalea's phone pinged. She looked at the screen and turned it to show Eliza.
It was a text from Dallas.
Is she okay?
Azalea raised an eyebrow. "See? He cares."
Eliza looked at the three words. They were simple, direct.
"He just doesn't want his asset damaged," Eliza said, trying to convince herself. "It's a business deal."
Azalea rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "You are so blind. But that's okay. I see everything."
