"Cara Hastings," she said, approaching me directly, in her matching navy blazer and skirt combo as her expensive patent leather heels glinted in the sunshine as she put out her French-manicured hand. "You must be Iana."

"I must be," I replied, taken aback at her polished appearance as I shook her hand.

"And you must be Murphy, Iana's mother," Cara went on, sticking out her hand to my mother and shaking it. "Wonderful that you could be here to support her daughter."

"As her lawyer, it's my job."

Cara looked at me then, almost as if she was taken aback. "Was your mother not aware of our conversation?" she asked, her brown eyes looking worried.

I shook my head immediately then, making a mental note to ask who did Cara's hair, as the curly blonde locks would be the envy of anyone who respected hair care. "She's aware, don't worry," I assured her, and Cara smiled at me. "She's here as my mother, while you're here as my official and only attorney."

"Of course, part of my strategy is having an entire legal team, but we can work out the kinks later," she said, transferring her high-quality brown leather briefcase to her other hand. "I know Sally must be expecting you, and she doesn't tolerate lateness."

I nodded. "Sure," I replied, following in Cara's wake, and doing my best not to give into the glare that I knew my mother was giving to my back.

We followed Cara through the less-than-savory lobby area and towards the elevator, which had to have been close to forty-years-old. Thankfully, even though it seemed to squeak slightly when we entered, it didn't give us a problem as Cara pressed the correct button. It lurched into action then, bringing us up five floors before depositing us out on floor six, where a sign directed us to Sally's office.

"Sally?" Cara asked, knocking on the door with the back of her hand and letting us in. "It's been a long time."

"Hey, Cara," Sally said, a tight smile on her face as we stepped inside. She got to her feet, her natural weave all out and ready for business as she motioned for all of us to take our seats. She brought over a file close to her then as she sat back down, her dark fingers going through the paperwork meticulously before she came to the correct one. "Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist, charged with attempted murder in the first degree, assault and battery in the first degree, and aggravated assault resulting in a coma-like state. And I see that you pleaded not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect; you're ordered to undergo court mandated therapy..." She nodded to herself for a moment then before she reached into her desk and produced an ankle bracelet. "This one should fit."

I sighed, lifting my leg and placing it onto Sally's desk with a loud thud. I heard my mother gasp from behind me, while Cara laughed, and Sally didn't look surprised by my actions. I nodded at the ankle bracelet then, and then to my leg. "Let's get this over with," I said.

. . .

"I'm sorry that I'm not having a boy to carry on the family name," I said to Pops as we drove away from the hospital.

Pops shook his head. "Don't apologize. I'm just happy that the baby seems happy. She's growing all right and meeting all the milestones... How big is she now?"

I gripped onto my steering wheel then, willing for the bile not to rise in my throat. "We don't discuss it."

"Why?"

"Because, if we do, I'll ruin my car's upholstery," I replied.

Pops nodded. "Point taken... The yellow fruit, right?"

I nodded, gritting my teeth. "Mmm-hmmm," I said.

"Thinking of any names yet?"

"I promise, I won't saddle my kid with a name like Destiny or some shit like that," I replied, and Pops laughed aloud. "Destiny Hope Milkovich. Fuck no!"

Pops slapped his leg then, throwing back his head and howling with laughter. "Fuck no! No granddaughter of mine is having a name like that!"

"I second that," I replied, coming to a stop at the light in front of us, and placing a hand upon my stomach. "Guess I just didn't know how exhausting this was all gonna be..."

"Hey," Pops said, reaching out and touching my shoulder. "You can't let those dreams get to you, kiddo. You can't."

"I know," I said quietly, choking back sobs then as my eyes filled with tears. "I know I shouldn't but it's so hard to think that one false move and Colin..."

"That son of a bitch is never coming after you, Iana," Pops said firmly. "Over my dead body. It's just not gonna happen."

I nodded stiffly then, pressing down onto the gas pedal as the light turned green, bringing my car forward into the intersection. "It's just a lot right now," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I mean, even just a few weeks ago, I was so looking forward to college..."

"You can still go to college, kiddo, if that's what you want," Pops told me gently. "We'll figure it out. Besides, most people don't start until they're eighteen anyway..."

I scoffed as I continued driving down the street. "I'm not 'most people', Pops. None of us are most people. This entire family doesn't consist of most people." I lowered my eyes to my knuckles which, while healed, were still stiff from when I'd attacked Terry. "Just wish I'd never gone off my meds..."

"You can't blame yourself."

"Who can I blame, then? Genetics?" I asked, my tone bitter. "Christ. I mean, if Terry had done or said anything, like run to the fucking cops and told them what I did... It would've been my second offense, Pops; my third if they took my arrest last May into consideration..."

"Nicholas got those charges dropped and thrown out."

"So? They didn't give a fuck about it when his old record came to light. Who's to say that someone within the force couldn't have done the same to me?"

"You're a Milkovich. So, we run on the other side of the law. It's not a problem."

"It's different for me," I said quietly. "For one thing, I'm a woman..."

"Yet you've got the strength of a Milkovich man," Pops put in.

I smiled ruefully. "Oh, that's very comforting," I replied. "And, for another thing, I've got a pretty big responsibility showing up in all our lives next winter. A fucking baby," I whispered as we drove past The Alibi Room. "I'm fucking pregnant," I said quietly, almost as if I was truly recognizing that fact for the first time. "Jesus..."

"You're going to be a fantastic mom, Iana."

"Am I?" I asked, shrugging my shoulders as we entered our neighborhood proper, and as I drove down the street. "I sure as hell had a good example of that..."

"Murphy may not be perfect, Iana. But she does love you..."

"Love," I scoffed, pulling up in front of the house and shutting off my car. I pulled my keys from the ignition and slumped back against my seat as I rubbed my temples. "Love... She didn't... I mean, she doesn't fucking love me, Pops."

"How do you figure?"

"She constantly asked me for shit, Pops. Watch the kids, pick this up for me, do this, do that... I raised Clayton and Fionn, and what thanks do I get? A pity trip to New York. Sure, I self-exiled myself from the house, but it was only because I was sick and tired of the bullshit. I know that she and him work, but it's more than that," I told him, my voice quiet as I raised my eyes to his slowly. "I'm not Aunt Fiona."

Pops nodded. "I know."

"I don't want history fucking repeating itself," I said. "It would've, had she not kicked Tommy to the curb..."

"I would've killed him eventually, Iana..."

"How? The only reason why you're here is because of her."

"I would have figured out how to get back."

"Yeah, sure. For Uncle Ian, right?" I guessed, picking at a stray thread upon the fabric of my steering wheel.

"Yeah. And for you," he said softly, and I raised my eyes to meet his again.

"What?"

"I don't know what you're thinking, Iana, but you're not unloveable."

I shook my head. "Fuck you," I replied, getting out of the car.

"Hey," he said, getting out after me and stopping me along the sidewalk. "I never fucking want you to think that, do you hear me?!" he demanded, and I shook my head, looking away from him then as tears continued streaming down my face as I allowed my emotions to get the better of me once again. "You're my daughter, and next to Ian... Fuck. You're both tied for first in my life, Iana. You're my daughter, the only child of mine that I'm in contact with who likely wasn't poisoned against me," he went on, and I finally permitted myself to look at him. "I'm never gonna let anything happen to you, because I fucking love you and my husband more than anything in the world. Nothing's gonna change that, and the sooner you understand that I'm not going anywhere, the better."

"You're... Not gonna leave?" I whispered.

Pops shook his head. "Fuck no. I'm done running. My life is here."

I took a step forward then and threw myself into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. "I'm sorry that I feel this way," I whispered. "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay, kid," he replied, gripping me tightly against him. "You don't have to feel this way anymore, I promise. I'm not leaving you. As long as you need me, I'm right here."

"I'll always need you," I replied automatically, my voice quiet. And, for a moment, I didn't know if he heard me or not. However, Pops gripped me a little tighter then, and I knew that I had my answer to that thought.

. . .

"Under employment you wrote that you're a waitress at Patsy's Pies?"

I was sitting in the finely upholstered chair that Cara used for her clients, just across from her finely-polished maple wood desk. I watched as Cara's long, tapered fingers keyed in information to the new document for my case, as my eyes drifted around her office, which boasted floor-to-ceiling windows, a flat screen behind her desk, mini bar on glass table and small chrome fridge just below that, and a massive maple bookshelf, complete with all kinds of law books, but Torts was probably the most proudly displayed among them.

"Yeah, I've worked there for a while," I replied. "A few months, give or take. My mom started paying me under the table last summer for odd jobs, but I just made the waitress job after my last birthday."

Cara nodded, efficiently typing in the information. "And you live primarily with your mother and father, is that correct?"

I nodded. "Yeah, primarily. He's not my biological father," I told her, and Cara's dark eyes snapped to mine.

"He's not?"

I shook my head at her. "No. Nicholas Blomqvist adopted me when I was three, right after he and my mother got married."

"Are you in contact with your biological father?"

"I am, yeah."

"Who is he?"

"Mickey Milkovich," I replied, and her typing slowed for a moment then. "He's also married to my mother's twin brother; my uncle, Ian."

"I see that you like to keep it in the family," she joked.

I forced a laugh out then; I knew that Cara wasn't intending to be cruel, but I also understood that I shouldn't allow myself to be so touchy. "He and my uncle were together for years. Let's just say that one drunken night in Mexico, with a little too much tequila, is the reasoning behind why I'm here," I said, leaning back in my chair and extending my leg then, the ankle bracelet glowing red, letting my know that it wasn't sure about my meeting with my lawyer, but Sally had assured me that it was fine.

"That couldn't have been easy for you," Cara said gently, "growing up with that knowledge. I don't know how I would have reacted..."

I sighed. "I wouldn't wish it on anybody. Pops is great; we're really close. But my mom? She was told that she couldn't have children, so I was a happy accident. Then she had four more kids with her husband and..." I shrugged.

"Bad blood there?"

I bit my lips. "No, not really. I don't really hang out with my younger two siblings, Carla and Charlie, very much. Nicholas's parents take them a lot..."

"And the other two siblings?"

"Clayton and Fionn," I replied. "I helped raise them."

"But you're only three years older than them..."

I swallowed then, feeling suddenly claustrophobic as I remembered every little detail of what the boys and I had been through from such a young age. "It was a hard time."

"Does it have anything to do with your mother's marriage to Nicholas temporarily falling apart, plus her quick engagement to one Tommy Matthews, now a disgraced cop?"

I nodded stiffly, tightening my jaw, almost as if I was willing my entire body not to give way to the wave of sadness which came over me. "Yeah..."

Cara pushed away from her computer then and leaned forward slightly on her desk, her brown eyes filled with seriousness. "Iana, if there's something you've left out because you don't think it's relevant, you can let me be the judge of that. If it isn't relevant, than attorney-client privilege keeps it from getting out there."

"I don't trust a lot of men in the world," I said quietly. "Other than my brothers, plus Nicholas and my pops and my uncles and cousins..."

Cara nodded. "I can understand that. It's never a bad idea to be wary or cautious when it comes to men. A lot of them have done despicable things over the years, some of them getting away with it, and while it's morally reprehensible, it's our job as women to stick together, and to help each other out, however and whenever we can."

"I'm a survivor," I said quietly then, not looking up at Cara, and focusing entirely on the sheepskin rug that her maple desk was placed upon.

"Of abuse?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Neglect, physical, emotional, and sexual."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Iana."

"Thank you."

"Who was behind the sexual abuse?"

"My former middle school principal, and Tommy Matthews," I replied. "My principal raped me when I was thirteen, and Tommy... Well, I wasn't raped, but I was assaulted... The assault included inappropriate touching from the time he and my mother started shaking up to the time she kicked him out..."

"Who knows about these assaults?"

"Pops and Uncle Ian know about my rape," I replied. "But nobody else knows about that. I think Pops knows about Tommy's assaults, but I haven't said anything..."

"And the physical abuse?"

"My mother's father, Frank, hit me a few times growing up; he was drunk when it happened, so it wasn't a big deal. We all fucking hate him, so..."

"And the emotional abuse and neglect?"

I raised my eyes to hers then, unknowing what would happen if I answered her, but also knowing that I needed to get the answer off my chest. "My mom," I replied.

. . .

I felt my eyes snap open then, more nightmares of the pre-trial, Cara, and other things from that period of time flooding my mind. I checked my phone, seeing that it was after six, and that I had to get to work in three hours. With all hope of sleep gone, I got out of bed and headed down the hallway for a shower. I'd crashed at Pops and Uncle Ian's for the past three nights, and would be heading over to Franny and Ezra's that weekend. As I gripped my towel in my hand and adjusted the shower's temperature to one of my liking, I mulled over in my mind my schedule for that day, knowing that Franny and I were expected for the breakfast and lunch rush, before getting off at four-thirty to see Uncle Lip and Mandy later on that night.

After washing off the last of the residue of sleep, I got out of the shower and towel-dried my hair before I wrapped the piece of terry around me and made my way back down the hallway and into the borrowed bedroom I spent a lot of my childhood and adolescence in. I rolled my shoulders as I shut the door behind me, the nervous tick slowly but surely getting the better of me as I walked over to the chest of drawers and attempted to pick out something that I could lounge around in before I had to change for work. Finding a makeshift tank top and shorts pairing that I would never be caught dead out of the house in, I slipped into these before I headed down to the kitchen and opened the fridge, ignoring the bottles of beer and opting for some milk, knowing that it was a good alternative for the baby.

I drank it straight from the carton, chugging it like there was no tomorrow, finding just how much more I enjoyed it, now that I was pregnant. I had only really had it with cookies, or bowls of cereal, over the years, but now, the sweetness from the teat of a cow seemed like liquid gold to me as it went deeper and deeper down my throat. I smirked slightly at the thought, which proved difficult, due to the carton smashed into my mouth, and I was so distracted that I didn't even hear someone coming downstairs.

"Hey, hey!" came Pops's voice then, managing to get the carton away from my mouth without spilling anything. He held it away from me then, smirking slightly as I wiped off my upper lip with the back of my hand. "I don't go shopping for another few hours, and Ian and I need some of this in our coffee."

"Ian and I need some of this in our coffee," I muttered to myself, purposefully elevating my tone to that of a very young child as I crossed the kitchen and pushed myself up onto the counter. I turned around then and opened the pantry, finding a box of crackers and bringing them down and chewing on them. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I could ask you the same question," Pops replied, capping the milk carton and returning it to the fridge. "You don't work until after nine. It's barely seven now. You feeling all right?"

I shrugged, continuing to nibble at the crackers. "Can't complain."

Pops leaned against another counter as I spoke, scrutinizing me in a way that only a loving parent could as the sun continued to rise around us in the kitchen. "No, you're not all right."

I sighed, leaning back slightly so that my head leaned against the cupboard. "Pops, please. Just once, leave it alone..."

Pops dragged a hand over his face. "You know I can't do that, kiddo. Come on. We always do this but in the end, we come together and you tell me what's bothering you."

I rolled my eyes. "Jesus. It's not even a big deal anymore..."

"Again with the nightmares?"

I shrugged. "Off and on, yeah..."

"Christ, Iana. You need to sleep because you're pregnant. And you've got a job at the diner. You may have put off college, young lady, but you still have responsibilities."

I nodded. "I know what's happening to me, Pops," I continued, stuffing another cracker in my mouth before I groaned in disgust, tossing the box back into the panty. "Christ. I'm only four months pregnant and I look like a fucking beached whale..."

Pops sighed. "You do not look like a beached whale, Iana..."

I scoffed, hopping off the counter, my back seizing up in pain as I planted my feet onto the ground a little too quickly. "I'm convinced," I groaned, placing my hands upon the small of my back and arching it slightly, "that this little girl has a twin lodged somewhere in there, and that Dr. Lennox couldn't pick it up in the damned ultrasound..."

Pops smirked. "I think Dr. Lennox would've caught that."

I sighed, crossing my arms as I leaned back against the counter. "My mother was I twin. I was a twin. I have twin brothers. Who's to say this isn't a twin?" I asked, jabbing a finger in the direction of my belly. "The odds of this baby being a twin is like, I don't know, double or nothing at this point..."

"Iana, I'm wondering just how much this lack of sleep is getting to you..."

I sighed, my shoulders slacking then as I rubbed my eyes, knowing that exhaustion was truly plaguing me now more than ever. "Nothing I can't handle, Pops..."

"You sure?" he asked, reaching out then and squeezing my shoulder, and I momentarily stiffened, something that he and I had in common.

I nodded then; my neck jerking along as I forced it to move. "Yeah," I assured him then, fixing a smile onto my face as I looked up at him. "I can handle it."

. . .

"So, we've officially reached day seven since you hired me," Cara said, sitting on the opposite end of the couch in my parent's living room, on her first home visit, as I'd worked a shift at the diner earlier and was feeling tired. "You've been to school every day this week, and haven't missed work once. You also had your first appointment with the court-mandated psychiatrist three days ago," she went on, smiling at me. "Care to share?"

I pulled my legs automatically towards my chest, wrapping my arms around them in a protective manner. "I thought the lady gave you notes..."

Cara nodded. "She did, of course. I read them over yesterday when I was on break from court," she told me gently. "But I want to hear how it went from her point of view. Obviously, it's too soon to make a diagnosis, but she knows you're feeling things, and she'll likely be able to come up with a result that will curry favor with the judge, especially since you pled not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect."

"Right. That," I said quietly, resting my chin on my knees.

Cara sighed, obviously wanting me to give her something; I knew she was there to help me; hell, I was the one who took the initiative to fire my mother and hire her myself. "Please, Iana," she went on then, her voice far more gentler than ever before, and I slowly raised my eyes to hers. "I am here to help you. Can't you see that?"

I sighed, knowing that giving her something, anything, could potentially break my case wide open, and, given that the psychiatrist said it would help, it was worth a shot. Then again, Cara could've already seen this in the notes provided for her, and maybe she thought it was a bad idea, given that she hadn't necessarily brought it up. Of course, she wanted my thoughts on the appointment, not the doctor's...

"Iana?"

I nodded then, letting her know that I was formulating an answer in my mind, but also knew that I would have to break it to her gently. "I haven't told anyone the whole truth about Colin Monroe," I told her, my voice quiet.

Cara nodded. "I figured as much," she said quietly. "I took a few psychology courses during my time in law school, and although I didn't minor in it, I received top grades, so I know what I'm saying when I tell you that I knew you were holding something back."

"I was," I replied.

"Okay," she said, nodding her head again, thinking that it would be a means of encouraging me to speak to her, but it didn't matter either way. "It's all right, Iana. Whenever you're ready, go ahead and tell me."

I swallowed then, knowing that I had to say something, otherwise I felt I would burst. This secret that I'd kept closely guarded for such a long time, and it wasn't even one that Pops was aware of, for I was quite sure that, if he had, Colin Monroe would've ended up dead. "Colin Monroe's father, my former principal, got me pregnant," I tell her then, and Cara looked a combination of horror-struck and devastated at this mighty secret that I'd finally managed to get off my chest to someone in my life.

. . .

I arrived at Uncle Lip and Mandy's building after my shift at Patsy's, and after I'd swung by Pops's and Uncle Ian's place to shower off and make myself presentable. As I stepped towards the elevator, the person inside of it must've pressed the button, so as I could enter myself. I looked to see who my fellow rider was, and I raised my eyebrows then, knowing that I could've been in for an awkward interrogation session.

"Hey, Iana," Penny said, grinning at me and smiling at my stomach.

I blinked, surprised at the friendly welcome. "Hey there," I replied.

"You look amazing!" she gushed.

I smiled, the awkwardness leaking out of my pores. "Thanks," I said softly.

"Oh, please. I know what my douchebag older brother said to you," she said as the doors closed behind me. "And let me just tell you, right off the bat, that I don't approve. I am completely, totally, one-hundred-percent on your side here."

I shook my head then, pressing my floor button and putting myself into a corner, taking a good look at Penny's designer handbag, which of course went perfectly with her outfit. "Even though I lied my ass off to him?"

"Please. You weren't in a relationship. Sure, friends shouldn't lie to friends, or sleep with their friends, but that's the point, isn't it? You weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, and it's not like he's the father," she replied.

I laughed bitterly then. "No, he most certainly is not. Didn't stop him from calling me a gold-digger, though. I am a liar, but I sure as shit ain't a gold digger. I may be a ghetto girl from the South Side, but I take care of my shit," I went on, wrapping my arms protectively around my stomach, "and no man is going to get in the way of me being a mother."

"Even the father?"

I scoffed. "Son of a bitch pity-proposed to me with his goddamned gaudy-as-fuck football class ring!" I yelled then, and Penny laughed aloud at that. "Ran back to UCLA with his tail between his legs when I said no. Fucking pussy," I muttered.

"But he proposed?"

I tossed my hair. "Yeah. So? Not like the sex was even halfway decent..."

"So, my brother's better in bed, then?"

I rolled my eyes then, a laugh escaping my lips. "Uh, I don't think we should be discussing how good versus not good your brother is in bed..."

Penny considered that for a moment. "Yeah, you're probably right... You here visiting your aunt and uncle again?"

I nodded, whereupon the elevator dinged, this time letting me out on my floor first. "Yeah. I'm expected there now, actually."

"Right," Penny said, hesitating for a hot minute. "Look, Iana, I don't give a shit what happened between you and my brother. I'd still like to be friends, if it's not too awkward for you."

I shook my head. "No, it's not too awkward. I'd love to keep being friends."

"Great," she said, getting out a notecard then and scrawling something on it with a pen with pink ink before she handed it over to me. "My personal number and email. Call me!" she said, forming her first and pinkie finger into a phone before putting it against her ear, and waved me off as the elevator doors closed.

Shaking my head in amusement, I pocketed the card and finished walking down the hallway before I turned the corner, finally reaching Uncle Lip and Mandy's apartment door. I knocked on it three times before the door swung open, and I grinned at who was standing there. "Hey," I said to Mandy, welcoming the hug as she pulled me inside.

"Come on," she said, pulling back from me then and shutting the door behind me, before she pulled me into the living room.

Immediately, I saw the banner up on the wall behind the couch, which read Welcome Baby Milkovich, as well as several other little wrapped gifts on the coffee table. I shook my head at the little gathering, trying not to laugh at my family's sweetness at throwing all this together. I stepped further into the living room then, and was suddenly bombarded by Pops and Uncle Ian, who grabbed me by the arms and pulled me towards the couch, sitting me on the center cushion, while my mother, Nicholas, Uncle Lip, Mandy, Aunt Debbie, Franny, and Ezra looked on in a combination of amusement and reluctance.

"Okay! Everyone, okay!" Franny said, holding up her hands and making sure that everyone went quiet, the constant chatter immediately dying down. "As cousin and best friend of Iana, the mother-to-be, I just have one question... Am I going to have a nephew or a niece?" she asked, and everyone immediately looked from Pops to me, knowing that we, in addition to Dr. Lennox, were the only ones who knew the answer for sure.

I scoffed then, turning to look at Pops, but he spread out his hands, letting me know that since it was my baby, it was automatically my call. I rolled my eyes before looking back at my family then, knowing that there was no way I was getting out of there until I gave them something, but the sex of the baby seemed to be all they wanted... "And, I take it that telling you that my baby has a really strong heartbeat won't cut it, right?"

"Not if you want a piece this beautiful cake me and Lip made," Mandy replied, nodding to the double-decker Funfetti cake that was placed on the kitchen counter behind them, and my mouth immediately began to water at the notion of my favorite cake.

"That looks delicious," I replied.

"So, tell us, honey," my mother said, and my eyes snapped to hers, knowing that she would want to hear this, despite her reservations about the whole thing.

"All right, all right!" I said, throwing up my hands in mock-surrender as I got to my feet then, smirking slightly as Pops and Uncle Ian stood on either side of me, just to ensure that I wouldn't go toppling over. "It's a girl, are you happy now?!" I demanded then, and ran into the kitchen before any of them could stop me, whereupon I grabbed a fork from the drawer, and took a bite of the cake, savoring it before I was dragged backwards for the obligatory hugs and the chorus of congratulations from everyone in the room.