Page 80 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“He’s building on land that should’ve never been approved,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “It’s swampland—unstable ground that shifts with the rain and collapses during storms. No one should be building anything out there, but he got the land cheap and knew exactly who to pay off. Inspectors, politicians, it was all handled under the table.”

My breath caught.

“He’s trying to build a whole development,” she went on, “but if it fails, he owes his investors millions. Colin doesn’t like owing anyone money, and he’s never allowed himself to lose a deal. When things start to unravel, people have a way of disappearing—either because they know too much or because there’s a chance they might talk.”

She pressed her hand to her lips as if to keep from sobbing outright. “He doesn’t leave things to chance.”

I sat back slowly, the weight of her words settling in like cement. Gabby hadn’t just seen something she shouldn’t have—she’d threatened to unravel everything.

This wasn’t about damage control anymore. This was about survival for all of us. And if Gabby made it through that surgery, we were going to make sure he paid for every last crime he thought he could bury.

Chapter 25

Webb

The lights in the ICU never went completely dark, but they didn’t stay harshly bright either. Overhead fluorescents were often dimmed or turned off during the night, replaced by the soft glow of monitors and low-level lighting that kept the space functional without overwhelming it. Even in the quietest hours, the room felt gently lit—enough for nurses to work but muted to give patients a chance at rest. Machines beeped in quiet, persistent rhythms, and nurses moved from room to room like shadows on well-worn paths.

Gabby had been moved into her ICU bed after the surgery, pale and still beneath the thin hospital blanket. They’d removed her spleen, set and cast the small fractures in her left leg and right wrist, and patched up the cuts and bruises littering her body. Her injuries looked brutal in the harsh light, with the bruises blooming deep across her ribs and the small split near her brow stitched neatly.

But it was her silence that scared me most.

The doctors were still concerned about elevated intracranial pressure, likely related to a chronic subdural hematoma. Although the skull fracture hadn’t caused bleeding within the brain itself, the risk of swelling remained significant. And the fact that she still hadn’t regained consciousness was a growing concern for all of us. She looked like she was resting like she could open her eyes at any second and crack a joke about the room service. But she didn’t.

I sat beside her, holding her hand lightly, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles while machines whispered and ticked behind me. The door eased open with barely a sound, and Remy slipped inside, eyes wide and alert, the glow of his phone casting a faint light across his face.

“You’re going to want to see this.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket—once, then again, and then in rapid succession. Texts, notifications, and alerts were pouring in faster than I could keep up.

“What the hell?”

Remy handed me his phone. “She posted it.Allof it.”

I glanced down at my screen and saw a feed from X, Gabby’s account bold at the top. She had posted a thread—long, detailed, and ruthlessly precise—laying out everything she knew about Colin Maddox. It included names, dates, locations, financial trails, illegally obtained permits, and even buried whistleblower reports. This wasn’t vague suspicion or subtle implication, the corruption was laid out in full. Documented. Unmistakable. Undeniable.

At the end of the thread was a final message: “I’ve sent everything to every major news outlet. If they don’t run this,you know which ones have been bought. Pay attention. And don’t let them bury the truth. —G.V.”

I stared at the screen, my pulse pounding.

“We’ve been so focused on finding Gabby,” I realized slowly, “we forgot to actually focusonher. On what she might’ve already set in motion.”

Remy nodded, scrolling through what was on his screen. “It’s everywhere now—TikTok, Facebook, Instagram. Mirror posts, screen captures, subreddits, Discord servers—Gabby’s thread has gone viral, spreading like wildfire across every platform. This wasn’t a desperate last-minute move, she planned it. She timed the release down to the second. She knew there was a chance she wouldn’t make it out—and she made sure the truth would, even if she didn’t.”

My stomach turned. “Which means she’s in even more danger now.”

Gladys stepped closer to the bed, her good hand resting on the rail. “What do you think he’ll do?” I asked, eyes on her.

Her lips tightened, and her gaze dropped to Gabby’s face. “Colin doesn’t react. He plans, and then he comes back swinging.”

“So, he’s hiding right now.”

“Most likely. But when he surfaces, it won’t be subtle. He doesn’t like to lose. He’s going to be calculating every move.”

I stood slowly, pulling on my jacket. “Then I need to go. I need to get ahead of this.”

But before I could take another step, Gladys turned and caught my arm. Her fingers were cold and surprisingly strong.

“Do you love her?” she asked.

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