Eva sat out on the deck, thinking long and hard over what Jerry had to say. And when the girls rushed into the house, closely followed behind by Marshall and the dogs, Eva watched that cozy, happy little scene and her heart pinched with fear.

Fear that if she wasn't careful, all of this could collapse around her, fragile and delicate as a house of cards scattered in the hailing winds of a hurricane. Rising she joined them inside, listened with a plastic smile as the girls shouted over one another to tell her all the fun and glorious things they had done over the day.

Including Payton—her quiet and sweet little Payton was finding her voice again.

"I think tonight is a pizza night," Eva announced and was met with gleeful squeals. Asking Marshall to oversee the order, she took Hailey by the hand and brought her upstairs where it was private. Where they could talk and Eva could break the news she knew was going to break Hailey's heart.

She opened the door to Hailey's room, closed it behind them. From her daughter's quiet, defensive posture, Eva was sure that she'd guessed something bad was coming.

"We had a visit from Jerry this morning," Eva said as Hailey sat on the edge of her bed.

"Why was he here?" Fingers worrying the colourful layered bracelets on her wrist.

"Things are complicated, baby."

"Quit calling me that. I'm almost thirteen. I'm not a baby anymore." She shook back her hair, eyes hot with challenge.

Oh but you are, Eva thought. And yet, she wasn't. Of her three, Hailey was the only one old enough to remember what life had been like prior to the program. And of her girls, Hailey had had to sacrifice the most. Knowing that was going to make the reason for this conversation so much harder than anything else Eva had done before.

"Hailey, we need to discuss the play." Exhaling slowly, Eva lowered to the bed next to her daughter, tried not to feel hurt when she scooted away. "We're going to have to tell Mrs. Singh you're stepping down."

Hailey's face fell. All anger washing away to stunned disbelief.

"But...No! That's not fair."

"I know, Hailey—"
Hailey leapt to her feet, whirled on Eva. "I won't! You said—you said I could!"

"I know what I said, Hail. I know. And I'm sorry." Reaching for her, Eva gathered her arms in her hands.

"So you're the only one who gets to be the big shot with your gallery and Marshall and everything else? You're such a hypocrite mom! This is my dream! I want to be an actress. I'm good. Really good. And now I have to give it all up because you screwed up?"

"I'm so terribly sorry, but I need you to understand why...All this attention we're getting is dangerous. And if we're not careful—"

She crossed her arms. "They'll kick us out. Whatever."

"No, no baby. Not us." Pulling Hailey back to the bed, Eva smoothed a hand over her wild dark hair. When had her little girl grown so fast? From that tiny, happy little baby she'd first held in her arms to this hostile pre-teen who shirked any and every attempt Eva made to get close.

"They'll take you away. All of you. Sent to foster homes within the program, the three of you separated. I could be arrested for breach of contract, charged. This is serious, baby. Very serious. Randy wasn't coming after me—he wanted you. You are the ones who need protection. I am here as your mother. But if they deem me unfit to keep you safe, I will be pushed out, but as minors you can't leave."

Hailey's large eyes grew wider, and wider. Fear curled her fingers tight, the knuckles flashing white, and frustration set her lips into a thin, grim line. A line that trembled.

"Oh, baby."

"This isn't fair."

"I know."

"I hate you."

Eva swallowed the hurt. Accepted the pain. "I know."

#

Couple days after breaking the bad news to Hailey, things around the home remained thick with tension. Hailey was hostile as ever, treating Eva with the silent treatment and cold shoulder, not that she could blame her. And though Marshall had swooped in, smoothing over the roughest edges, Eva knew she had a long way to go before Hailey would speak to her again.

As much as it killed her to do this, Eva had to believe that pulling Hailey from the play was for the greater good. With all the hype still thrumming on the island with the gallery, local new stations were flocking to the community in droves, and the little theatre production was now set to be broadcasted on the cable networks news programs. Small scale, sure, but it was a risk Eva couldn't afford.

All it would take was one person to see Hailey's face, someone who knew them from Toronto, or Nathan, to put it all together. Even now Eva wasn't sure they were still completely out of hot water, though Marshall had assured her his interests in pursuing the article were over, they still had to ride out the ripple effect of all the excitement, and that could take months to dissipate.

Longer, even.

Maybe next year, she mused, once things quieted down again and if Nathan lost his latest appeal or decided to bow out—after all, pressing custody through the courts was bound to be costing him more money than he could afford.

He might have inherited a couple of restaurants, but he was a long way from rolling in cash.

Opening her front door, she almost tripped over the long white box wrapped in gold ribbon. This time Eva didn't need to look inside to know that there would be no card.

This was starting to get tiresome, and, as if by some divine cue, she caught sight of Kevin jogging up the street, returning from an early morning run. Pushed to the limits of her patience, Eva had decided enough was enough.

Cutting across the street, he would have continued on right past her and up to his front door had she not shouted out his name.

"What's your problem?"

"You're my problem," she snapped when close enough to see the sweat beading down the side of his blank face. "You can cut the creepy flower delivery, alright? No, Kevin. My answer's no. Always going to be no. Got it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The flowers."

"What flowers? I'm not—Jeez, Eva, I'm not a psycho, okay?" He took a moment, calmed down, shrugged. "At first, sure, I was mad when I saw you and that Davies guy hanging around each other. And though I think it poor taste for a man to stay the night while your girls are under roof—I'm over it, okay?"

"So you haven't been sending me flowers?" she demanded.

"I liked you Eva, but I'd have to be a real idiot to play that card when I can't even get you to go out to dinner." Plucking at the collar of his shirt, he wiggled the fabric, cooling off. "You made your choice. I've moved on. Met a lovely lady last week. Gone on a few dates and it could be something. Can I go now?"

Tongue tied, Eva could only nod.

And worried over the facts as she drove in to the gallery thanks to cryptic text from Jenelle asking her to be there for nine, sharp.

As she was a half-hour early, inside her office Eva combed through the island directory and called all the local flower shops until she found the one. Unfortunately the owner couldn't tell her much of anything.

"All the orders were placed online," he'd said, speaking a little too close to the receiver, like he had it wedged between cheek and shoulder to keep his hands free for bloom arranging.

"But the other day we got a call from a bank. Turns out the first order was placed with stolen cards. And since the order is...well, pretty specific, I recalled the subsequent orders. Searched our database, found all were purchased with different credentials. Made a few calls, and, well...those were stolen, too."

Murmuring her apologies, Eva ended the call. It was possible with all the hype and gravitas of her gallery being in the news that someone had taken to stalking her. Happened all the time, didn't it? Calling Jerry, she left a hurried message, touching on the care facts and concerns, asking him to call her back as soon as he got the message.

No sooner had she hung up did the phone ring. Thinking it might be Jerry, she snatched it up.

"Jerry, I—"

"Good morning Eva, so happy I was able to reach you at this hour." Eva's blood chilled at the cool, crisp female voice. "Catherine Clear calling. From CTV news. I was wondering if I could prevail upon you for a moment of your time?"

"How did you get my number?"

"Darling," Catherine laughed. "A couple calls to the boys in tech, it wasn't so difficult to pull phone records from when Marshall was in town. He called often enough that the search didn't require much effort. It's sweet, in a sad little way, isn't it?"

Grip tight, Eva's fingers ached. "Fine. You've got my attention. What do you want?

"You, darling. You're a hot commodity these days. Come on air, do a live interview with yours truly this Friday. I'll even go as far to comp your flight and hotel for the inconvenience. A nanny to care for the kiddies?"

"No."

"That's what I'd thought you'd say." The glint of challenge in her tone was unmistakable, and by no means did it escape Eva's notice that Catherine Clear was thoroughly enjoying herself. "Let me paint a picture, Eva. You're good with pictures, so I'm sure you'll appreciate this. We blitz everything about Randy Kincaid and all the filth. We call your ex-husband, Nathan Leeds into the studio. All rumpled and bloodshot. A mess, Eva. Emotionally and otherwise.

"Eva Turner, Internet sensation, takes off into the wind—stealing his daughters because she lacked the common sense to keep her legs closed."

Catherine laughed, the sound a bright, crisp and cold.

"He's pushing you for custody, so I hear. Can you imagine the sort of sway this could have on his case? I know three named partners in major practices who would eat take him on pro-bono just to soak up the publicity this would draw to their firm."

Bones brittle as fractured glass, soon to break; Eva lowered, carefully, into her seat. As much as she wanted to argue the semantics and facts, she couldn't fault Catherine's threat a single iota.

A father losing his children—the media and press would eat her alive. Rip her to shreds. Painting her as unsuitable, unfit—dangerous, a hazard to her own babies. She'd lose them for sure.

"Now while that's soaking in, ask yourself how do you think I know all of this to begin with? I'll give you three guesses, but I think you'll only need one."

Ice shot into her bowels in a single, punching blast. Marshall would never..."He wouldn't."

"Oh believe me," that laughing voice flattened with contempt, "he would. For the record, if it's any consolation it was always going to come to this. You wouldn't be the first woman he's dropped for his job. Won't be the last. Don't let the opportunist use you as a stepping-stone, Eva. Be smarter than that."

"By letting you use me?"

"Solidarity, Eva. Solidarity. You've got two days to decide. And that's me being generous. Either you come in of your own accord, or I throw the chips up in the air and let them fall where they may. Ta."

The heavy click of a receiver hanging up clattered through Eva's brain like a sledgehammer to her ear drum. Her hand dropped to her lap, fingers barely clutching her phone. And only had the smallest presence of mind to tuck that phone into her pocket.

Every fear, every small terror had come to fruition. Dazed as a woman who'd crawled out of a car wreckage, Eva stumbled from her office. She had a precious few days before her life and everything in it came crashing down around her ears. That left little time to do much of anything except pick up and run.

Home. She had to get home. And call Jerry—yes, Jerry. Bleeding Christ...Hand to her stomach, she wondered why there were no tears? No pain?

Every inch of her was hollow. Empty. Numb.

Shell-shocked. But it would come. Experience had taught her as much. An hour or two, the nerves would awaken in a deluge of anguish and panic and rage.

Home. She had to get home.