Novels by Fana Palms

The flight to Seattle feels longer than it should.I've been on this route twice before—once full of hope and fear, once running away from both. This time, I don't know what I'm full of. Just a desperate need for answers to questions I haven't fully formed yet.Rachel drove me to the airport, made me promise to call her the moment I land, and told me she loves me no matter what happens.Clara sent a text: "Be brave. But also be honest. Those aren't always the same thing."Dr. Chen's last words in our session yesterday: "Remember, you're not going there to fix anything or prove anything. You're going to get information. To see what's real. Whatever you discover, trust yourself to handle it."I'm trying to trust myself.God, I'm trying.I don't tell Damien I'm coming.Part of me wants to show up at his office, dramatic and cinematic, like this is some movie where grand gestures solve everything.But real life isn't a movie. And I'm too old for grand gestures.So instead, I text him from

Three months later, the case is over.Reed settled two weeks before trial—not because we were weak, but because Christine's team uncovered evidence so damning he had no choice. Emails proving he'd orchestrated not just my situation, but a decade-long pattern of corporate sabotage across the industry.The settlement includes a public apology, financial restitution to all identified victims, and permanent injunctions preventing him from certain business practices. His firm is under investigation. His reputation is destroyed.We won.It should feel triumphant.Instead, I'm sitting in my Boston apartment on a Friday afternoon, staring at the news coverage, feeling absolutely nothing.I didn't attend the settlement conference. Worked everything remotely from Boston like I said I would. Damien handled the in-person negotiations. We communicated through lawyers and carefully worded emails. Professional. Distant. Exactly what I said I needed.It's been ninety-three days since I left Seattle.

Week two in Seattle, I miss Clara's graduation celebration.I'm on a video call with her, watching her show off her master's degree, and I can see the hurt in her eyes even though she's trying to hide it."It's okay," she says. "I know the case is important.""It's not okay. I should be there. I promised I'd be there.""Elena, you're fighting for something that matters. I get it."But I can hear what she's not saying: You chose the case. You chose Damien. You chose Seattle over me.After we hang up, I sit in my hotel room and cry. Not quiet tears—the ugly, gasping kind that come from realizing you've become exactly what you swore you wouldn't be.Someone who sacrifices everything for a man who isn't even hers.Rachel calls an hour later."Clara told me.""I fucked up.""Yeah, you did. But more importantly, you're fucking up right now. Elena, you've been in Seattle for two weeks and you've already rearranged your entire life around this case. Around Damien.""The case is important—""T

Day five in Seattle, the cracks start showing.We're in the conference room reviewing depositions when Damien snaps at one of the junior lawyers over a minor procedural question."That's not how discovery works. Did you even read the filing guidelines?"The lawyer—a woman named Sarah who's been working eighteen-hour days—looks stung. "I did, but the opposing counsel's interpretation—""Their interpretation doesn't matter. The rules are clear. This is basic shit, Sarah.""Damien," I interrupt. "Can I talk to you? Privately?"He looks irritated but follows me into his office."What was that?" I ask once the door closes."What was what?""You just humiliated Sarah in front of everyone for a mistake that's barely even a mistake.""She should know better—""She does know better. She's brilliant and exhausted and you just treated her like she's incompetent because you're stressed about the case." I cross my arms. "This is what you do. When you're overwhelmed, you get controlling and harsh.

Day two in Seattle, I wake up to seventeen missed calls.All from the same Boston number. I call back immediately, heart pounding."Elena Torres," a man's voice answers. Professional, clipped. "This is Detective James Morrison with Boston PD. We need you to come in for questioning regarding Marcus Reed."My stomach drops. "Questioning about what?""Mr. Reed filed a police report yesterday alleging criminal harassment and intimidation. He claims you've been coordinating with Damien Voss to threaten him, damage his property, and interfere with his business operations.""That's absurd. I'm in Seattle working on our legal defense—""Which is why we need to talk to you. Can you be available for a video interview today?"I sit up, fully awake now. "Am I being charged with something?""Not at this time. But Mr. Reed has provided what he claims is evidence, and we're required to investigate. The sooner we can speak with you, the sooner we can determine if there's any merit to his claims."I c

Monday morning, I fly to Seattle.It's the first time I've been back since everything imploded. The city looks the same—grey skies, rain-slicked streets, mountains in the distance—but I'm different. We both are.Damien's office building rises ahead of me, glass and steel against storm clouds. I stand on the sidewalk for a full minute, gathering courage, before I walk through the doors.The receptionist recognizes me. "Ms. Torres. Mr. Voss is expecting you. Twelfth floor, corner office."The elevator ride feels eternal. My reflection in the mirrored walls shows someone trying very hard to look composed—tailored suit, hair perfect, makeup flawless. Professional armor for a meeting that's anything but professional.The doors open.And there he is.Damien's standing in the hallway like he was waiting, like he couldn't stay in his office knowing I was in the building. He looks thinner than I remember, tired around the eyes, grey more pronounced at his temples. The lawsuit has aged him."El