“They want to break you,” Jonathan said.

He sat beside me, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.

I flinched slightly, then let myself lean into his strength.

“They are using our children as weapons,” I said.

“I won’t let them do it anymore,” Jonathan said.

His face was set, his jaw tight.

He looked up at Benjamin.

“Call the network contacts. Get the press room at the headquarters ready for nine a.m.”

“Are you sure, Jonathan?” Benjamin asked. “Once you do this, there is no going back.”

“I have never been more sure of anything,” Jonathan said.

***

By seven o’clock the next morning, the rain was pouring down on the streets of Manhattan.

Large, heavy drops splattered against the glass of the Vance Enterprises lobby.

I had packed a small bag for Liam and Chloe and sent them to my mother’s apartment with Benjamin’s security team.

I stayed in a holding room on the top floor of the corporate headquarters, watching a small television screen.

The screen was fuzzy, but the image was clear enough.

The press room downstairs was packed with reporters.