Session 𝓝inety-One

Session 91:
"The Undisclosed Location”

Just like my mother had told me, there was a line of SUVs waiting outside the gate for me.

I quickly opened the door to the middle one before any of the drivers got out to do it for me.

The familiar leather smell gathered around me as I slid into the seat, making myself comfortable.

“Ms. Fierro,” the driver acknowledged me, looking through the rearview mirror.

I nodded at him in response, grabbing my phone to text Monroe that I was officially on the way.

I didn’t know where yet, but I wanted to keep her updated.

Once my text had sent through, I also texted Zion and Sarai back in the group chat.

They weren’t aware what had even happened in the last few hours, and I wasn’t about to tell them right now.

So I just told them all was good and planned to update them later on.

Then I locked my phone and decided to just look out the window, wondering where this undisclosed location was.

But after around thirty minutes, I was bored again and pulled out my phone to get on Pinterest.

I’m not sure how much time had passed after that.

When I looked up from my phone again, we were driving down into an empty parking garage.

It made my brows furrow, wondering if this was the location.

A parking garage?

It felt odd to me, honestly.

“Are we here?” I asked, glancing over to the driver in the front seat.

“No ma’am,” he said, driving further into the parking garage. “We had clear instructions to switch cars. A safety protocol.”

I blinked a few times, finding that to be a little odd.

My mother seems to be really meticulous when it comes to the Leclair’s.

It makes me wonder what she has to say, or what she’s experienced.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, noticing the parked SUVs we were approaching.

Once we came to a smooth halt, I opened the backseat door and slid out of the car, hating how dim the fluorescent lights were down here.

It felt like I was in a horror movie or something.

“We need your phone, Ms. Fierro,” one of the suited men said, standing by the parked SUV.

I shook my head, “No, I have to keep my phone,” I said, knowing I needed to keep Monroe updated.

If I stop responding, she might just lose it.

“We can’t take you any further without handing over your phone,” he clarified, and I knew why he had these instructions.

My phone has location tracking.

I’m sure if my location wasn’t shared, it could still be tapped.

I get why my mother has these precautions—I just don’t want to leave my girlfriend in the dark.

But I also needed to hear what my mother has to say—I need to go to this undisclosed location.

“One second,” I said, quickly unlocking my phone to text Monroe an update.

Me: not going to have my phone for a while

Me: everything is okay though

I sent the texts really quickly, and then locked my phone to hand it over to the driver.

After that, the backseat door was pulled open for me, allowing me to slide into a different SUV.

I was a little anxious.

Not because of this stupid undisclosed location, or even hearing what my mother has to say.

I was anxious about Monroe, hoping that my last update would be enough for her.

I don’t want her to worry.

I tried not to think about it too much, but another forty-five-minute car ride didn’t help.

Once we pulled up to these iron-clad gates, my attention had officially shifted.

My overthinking was out of the window, watching the long driveway we drove down.

I expected some kind of mansion or something.

But all that sat at the end was this simplistic glass house with oak wood outlining it.

Trees surrounded the house for miles on end, giving the perfect view of the forest even with the foggy overcast.

It was really cute, so much so that the only person I could think about was Monroe.

I wished I were here with her, enjoying some spontaneous kind of trip.

I don’t know, there’s always this longing that comes with being away from Monroe.

Almost like withdrawals, and the only thing—the only person that can fix it is her.

I’m not sure if I’ll last a night in this house without her.

I let out a deep sigh when the car door opened, allowing me to slide out of the backseat of the SUV.

The dark pavement was slick underneath my shoes, and there was a heavy humidity in the foggy air.

I followed behind the driver toward the front entrance of the house.

The lights inside made it look warm.

It felt warm when I walked in too, and it had that new house smell.

I slid my shoes off by the wooden front door, purely out of instinct.

I always take my shoes off in Monroe’s house.

I curiously glanced around as I walked further into the house, taking in the space.

It was decorated more minimalistic with white and brown tones.

I walked into the kitchen, and I also checked out the different bedrooms that held perfect views of the endless forest surrounding us.

Then I wandered back into the living room and got comfortable on the fluffy white sectional couch, even if there was no TV.

I knew I was about to be bored out of my mind without a phone or a TV.

I decided to close my eyes instead and take a nap while I waited.

I couldn’t exactly set an alarm, so I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep for.

I just remember waking up to a soft nudging at my shoulder.

Then her familiar voice saying—

“Liberty.”

I stirred at first, pushing the hand away with a groan.

Then I recalled everything—telling my mother about Monroe, the car ride, and the cabin I’m at.

My eyes shot open immediately, and there she was standing by the couch.

Her caramel hair was in short, precise waves, falling to her shoulders and framing her bare face.

She wore dress pants and a sweater that I could tell she pulled on last minute.

“Hey,” I awkwardly said as I sat up from the couch, rubbing under my eyes.

“How was the ride here?” she asked me, sitting down beside me on the couch.

I could immediately smell her familiar Chanel perfume.

“Good—long actually,” I said, glancing over to the living room table.

Where a bag of Skittles was.

“Did you bring those?” I asked in confusion, trying to remember if they were there all along.

Or if my mother cared enough to bring one of my favorite kinds of candy.

“I saw them at the convenience store I stopped at,” she explained, leaning forward to grab the bag of Skittles. “I thought you might like them.”

I nodded.

Awkwardly.

Mostly because I’m not used to any of this.

It’s been years since I’ve seen this side of her, and I guess I don’t want to get my hopes up.

“Thanks,” I murmured, taking the bag from her extended hand.

My mother nodded in response, probably aware of the same awkwardness as me.

I couldn’t eat Skittles in these conditions.

Not with how awkward this all feels.

“What’s going on with the Leclair’s?” I finally decided to ask, setting the bag of Skittles in my lap. “And why didn’t you tell me before? Why did you even send me to Monroe for therapy?”

“It’s her parents, Liberty. Not her,” my mother clarified, which made me feel a little better.

At least knowing Monroe had nothing to do with this.

I really wasn’t sure what to expect from this conversation.

My mother did seem really serious over the phone.

“I never expected you would get involved with her. She’s one of the best psychologists in the country.”

I lazily raised my brows. “I’m sure you know that since she works with the government.”

My mother was silent for a moment, her brown eyes trailing my face.

Almost like she was thinking about something deeper.

“What has she told you?” she finally asked.

“Nothing,” I admitted, shaking my head. “All I know is that she can bury something deeper in someone’s head. I guess making them forget things.”

My mother nodded silently.

Then she glanced away from me.

“How are things with her?” my mother said, making me furrow my brows.

“What do you mean? Like our relationship?” I asked in confusion.

She nodded. “Yes, I want to hear about this dynamic. I know she’s older, so I want to make sure she’s not taking advantage of you.”

I immediately shook my head. “No-no, she’s not taking advantage—she cares about me. She gets me, and I get her, and she’s always so thoughtful. She even taught me how to communicate better.”

My mother remained silent, her stare holding mine as she processed my words.

I knew I was rambling a little bit, but this mattered to me.

Monroe’s sort of first impression mattered, even if she wasn’t here.

“You would like her—she’s reserved at first, but there’s so much more to her. I swear her last name doesn’t define her,” I continued, hoping my mother didn’t already have her mind made up.

“Do you know about the others?” she calmly asked me, her brown eyes not wavering from mine.

I froze.

Full on froze actually.

Because I knew who she was referring to, and I know this would shift her opinion on my girlfriend.

Or maybe it has already shifted her opinion.

“It’s not what you think,” was the first thing I could think to say.

It sounded guilty.

I could tell by the look my mother gave me.

She was shocked.

Not by Monroe’s past, but the fact that I was condoning any of it.

“Her parents were the ones who played a part in all of that,” I quickly clarified. “She only handled one of the situations herself because if she didn’t, her parents would’ve caused more damage. They would’ve involved me—Monroe was trying to protect me.”

My mother shook her head. “That’s why this is dangerous, Liberty. They will use you and any other means to get to her.”

“You can’t expect me to end things with her because of her parents. She can’t control any of that,” I rushed out, my face quickly growing hot from even the idea of that.

“This is life or death. You do understand that?” she asked, her tone as serious as ever with me.

“But I love her.”

The words fell from my lips faster than I could process.

My mother even looked frozen from my honest words.

I glanced down at my lap when annoying tears burned in my eyes, trying not to be upset by all of this.

But I don’t care about her parents, and I don’t care about her past—

“I love her,” I whispered, drawing in a deep breath. “I really love her, mom.”

It was silent for a moment.

The heaviest silence swirling around us, especially as I waited for her response or possibly a lecture.

But all she did was sigh.

Then I felt her arms around me, hugging me into her side.

“I’m…” she trailed off, squeezing me closer. “I’m sorry, Liberty. I should’ve been there. None of this would’ve happened if I were.”

“I wanted you there for years. You never showed up for me after he died. You made me feel like it was all my fault,” I forced out, tears slipping from my eyes.

I heard her let out another heavy sigh, resting her head on top of mine.

“It was never your fault, Libby,” she whispered, squeezing me tighter against her. “It felt like I lost my entire life with his. Work was my only distraction—pushing you away helped me keep the memories of him away.”

Her words made even more tears well up in my eyes, “I’m sorry I have his face.”

“No,” she immediately said, her voice weak for once. “No, Libby, no. Never be sorry for that, my baby.”

I couldn’t possibly get any words out.

All I could do was cling to her like I always used to, whether it was after I failed my first test, or I got hurt for running down the stairs when I was supposed to be walking.

I cried harder, wishing I wasn’t robbed of so many years with her.

I never got those high school years with her.

I was surrounded by nannies, even when it came to prom shopping or my first spirit week.

She was only ever present at my graduation.

“They had clinical trials,” my mother suddenly whispered. “The Leclair’s offered them to your dad. His expectancy to live went up drastically by the possibility of it.”

I pulled back from her, meeting her stare even if my vision was blurred with tears.

“Why didn’t he do it?” I forced out, tears pooling in my eyes as I looked up at her as nothing less than her daughter.

I finally felt like her daughter again.

My mother drew in a deep breath, and I could quickly notice the glossiness in her eyes.

“They’re corrupt, Liberty,” she finally said, reaching up to cup my face. “Dad didn’t want us involved with them.”

“But-but he could’ve lived—he could’ve chosen us,” I whispered weakly, warm tears slipping from my eyes.

My mother nodded wordlessly, glancing away from me when the tears slipped from her eyes.

“He said involving us with them would’ve been worse,” she said, shaking her head. “I wanted it so badly, Libby. Believe me, but your dad always puts morals first. You know this.”

“But he could’ve lived,” I said brokenly, hating that I never got a say in this.

That I was too young to know what was going on.

“I know,” my mother said, hugging me closer to her. “He chose what was best for us, but a part of me will always regret not pushing harder for it.”

I shook my head as I pressed my cheek against her chest.

“He would be disappointed to know that I fell in love with a Leclair, wouldn’t he?” I whispered, my voice weak and tears burning in my eyes.

I let him down.

“No, Liberty,” my mother didn’t hesitate to say. “He would never place any blame on their child. He always gives people their own chance to show up as they are.”

I sniffled, unable to form any words.

All I could see was his face.

“You have your dad’s heart, Libby. I know if you chose her—if you fell in love with her, then it’s for a reason,” my mother said, her words so soft with me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, letting out the heaviest sigh. “I’m just… scared about this Kaia thing.”

“Your friend,” my mother murmured.

“Yes, she threatened to tell you, which is why I called to tell you first, but Monroe,” I paused for a moment. “She has a way of dealing with problems.”

“A Leclair way,” she determined, making me nod.

It felt nice to have someone understand what Monroe and her family were genuinely capable of.

No one else around me knew, and I didn’t realize how isolated that made me feel until now.

It felt nice to discuss this out loud with someone for once.

“It’s not her, though. It’s her parents. Everything she does is to prevent her parents from escalating the situation,” I tried my best to explain. “And obviously, it’s a bad look if it gets out that I was her patient. Her parents had everyone in the office sign NDA’s but Kaia didn’t, and now Monroe wants to handle her before Kaia says anything, and the Leclair’s get involved, which could put me at risk, Kaia at risk, even Zion and Sarai—“

“Liberty,” my mother cut me short before I could ramble even more. “Sunny.”

I drew in a weak breath at the familiar nickname, especially when more tears burned in my eyes.

I could still hear him saying it.

“You need to be blunt with Kaia, and let her know how dangerous it is involving herself,” my mother briefly explained, “Otherwise, if it comes down to it, Liberty, handling it before Leon and Clarisse have to is the only best-case scenario here.”

I immediately pulled back from her, meeting her stare with wide eyes.

“So you think Monroe should—“

“No,” my mother quickly cut me short. “I don’t think she should do anything, but you don’t understand the lengths her parents go to. I’m choosing your safety here, Liberty.”

I genuinely didn’t expect her to say that.

I didn’t expect her to side with Monroe.

But—

“I can’t let Kaia get hurt,” I said, even if she had been so harsh to me recently.

It doesn’t matter.

I couldn’t forgive Monroe if she did something to anyone I cared about.

“This is what happens when you’re involved with the Leclair’s,” my mother said, shaking her head. “I could’ve warned you far before any of this happened.”

I let out a deep sigh, unsure what to do from here.

I guess I should talk to Kaia and just openly explain the danger she’s putting herself in.

Until then, I can try to keep Monroe at bay.

“You need to keep a low profile, especially with her parents, Liberty,” my mother emphasized, her tone growing serious with me.

“I sort of made an impression already,” I awkwardly whispered, glancing away from my mother. “I might’ve made Clarisse smile, too, so I think they might like me?”

“They only like you if they plan to use you for something,” she emphasized, making me purse my lips.

“Well, they did want to get in contact with you,” I murmured, still avoiding my mother’s stare.

“I’m not surprised,” she determined, “I’m sure they have deeper intentions. Not only with me, but you too.”

I glanced back at her. “What do you think they are?” I curiously asked, but my mother didn’t have a chance to answer.

Not when we heard the front door open.

Then sets of footsteps pattered into the house.

I immediately glanced over at the suited men who emerged into the living room.

I recognized them from the car ride earlier.

Then they silently stepped to the side.

My eyes widened at her presence, wondering if I was hallucinating this right now.

But how did she even get here?

Better yet, how did she know I was here?

“Ro,” I whispered, quickly standing up from the couch to walk over to her.

She wore a Polo quarter-zip with dress pants and shiny loafers.

Her silky brown hair was tied up into a bun, her bangs framing her face so perfectly.

God, she just looks like home.

Everything about her feels like home to me.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked as I impatiently approached her.

“I always have eyes on you, darling,” she murmured softly, immediately pulling me into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” I admitted, even if it had only been a few hours.

But normally we text and stuff when we’re apart, so this was even harder for me.

“I missed you, too,” she said as I wrapped my arms so tightly around her waist, inhaling her familiar scent. “I disliked that your phone was taken.”

“It was for safety since phones can be tracked by anyone,” I clarified.

“I can assure you that anyone isn’t tracking your phone, much less hurting you,” Monroe emphasized, briefly kissing my temple as we pulled away from the hug.

I parted my lips to respond, but then my girlfriend’s blue eyes shifted past me.

And that’s when I remembered my mother was still here.

In this room.

I glanced down when Monroe lifted the bag hanging loosely in her hand.

“I brought dinner,” she calmly said, her stare still zoned in past me.

“You saved me the trouble,” I heard my mother say, earning a stiff nod from my girlfriend.

I pursed my lips into a subtle smile, eyeing Monroe’s beautiful face.

I’m so excited for her to meet my mother.

Or my mom.

The version of her I remember.

I can tell Monroe is more neutral, especially since she holds a totally different perception of my mother.

But that will change tonight.

Hopefully, we can all get along.

That’s all I could think as Monroe unpacked the three boxes of Pasta she brought.

We all silently stood around the wooden kitchen island, a tension brewing in the air.

This will definitely be one of my most interesting dinners.

Maybe more interesting than the dinner I shared with Monroe and her parents.