The Breaking Point
The coffee shop was half-empty, the windows fogging at the corners from a soft drizzle outside. Riley sat at a table near the back, hair damp from the walk, eyes darting toward every movement like she was waiting for a ghost to materialize.
Frank was already there. Quiet. Watching her like he had the first time — not with suspicion, but with a sharpness that suggested he was taking in every single piece of her. Scanning for bruises. For lies. For the part she hadn’t said yet.
“He was in the news,” he muttered lowly, sliding a manila envelope across the table like it was a confession. “Body pulled from the river. Cops ain’t saying much. But I know it was him.”
Riley’s throat moved as she swallowed. “So do I.”
He stared at her. Didn’t blink. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m not,” she said, voice cracking a little. “But I will be. If you don’t tell Karen.”
Frank exhaled, slow. “Why?”
“Because she’ll hate me.”
“She won’t.”
“She’ll hate you, then.”
He looked away at that.
And without another word, Frank Castle kept her secret.
Frank didn’t lie to Karen. It was their one rule. They were always honest to each other. But he found himself wanting to protect this girl, in a way he should’ve protected his daughter. Riley was now his responsibility, and he didn’t want Karen to share that.
Over the next week, Karen couldn’t shake the way the air around Frank changed. It was subtle. Not cold, but quieter. There were no more shared smiles while brushing teeth. No teasing glances across the couch. No hand drifting toward hers in the middle of the night.
Frank and Riley would be spending more time together. Out at all hours of the night, late talks that Karen wasn’t involved in. And it broke her a little. Her only friend here, was more interested in her boyfriend than her. And her boyfriend spent more time talking to her friend than he did Karen.
And when she brought up Riley — asked how she was doing — Frank gave short answers. “She’s alright.” “Doin’ better.” “Just keepin’ busy.”
It was fine, on the surface. Frank went to work, came home, slept beside her like nothing had changed. But Karen could feel something rotting at the seams.
It was a series of skipped dinners, late nights Frank never explained, silences that grew too wide to fill. Riley stopped texting her back. Even Curtis didn’t seem to know what was going on.
Then she saw it — “Unidentified Body Pulled from L.A. River: Possible Connection to Organized Crime.”
It would’ve been a nothing story—if she hadn’t recognized the location. If it hadn’t been walking distance from Riley’s apartment. If Riley hadn’t been avoiding her.
She tried not to jump to conclusions. But she was Karen Page. She didn’t do passive.
The next morning, she called in sick.
Karen stood in front of the old precinct records desk like she owned the place. She still had pull. A couple favors. Enough for someone to slip her the name of the man they pulled from the river: Guillermo Reyes. A known trafficker. Low-level slime that slipped through the cracks in a sting almost ten years ago.
Something clicked. Warehouse. Fifteen. Back of 37th and West End.
Karen’s breath caught.
She made three more calls. Found out Guillermo had been living under a fake name in a rent-controlled building just outside Silver Lake. Neighbors said he was quiet, a loner. Last seen a week ago.
Karen hung up the last call with shaking hands. Her skin was buzzing. The dots were connecting too fast.
Riley had mentioned him. Not by name, but that night they stayed up talking about her past. The one time Riley ever opened up about what happened to her. One guy got away, she’d said. The worst one.
Karen had assumed he was still far, far away. But what if he wasn’t?
What if Riley hadn’t just recognized him? What if she’d done something?
And what if Frank knew?
Karen waited until Riley was off work. No dramatics, no crowd. Just a bench outside a bookstore.
“You lied to me.”
Riley froze. “Karen—”
“I trusted you.”
“I didn’t know how—”
“You didn’t know how to what? Tell me you killed a man?”
Riley’s eyes filled, but she didn’t argue. “I panicked. I—I didn’t think I was going to. But then I saw his face. And it just happened.”
Karen knelt beside her, voice tight. “And Frank?”
“He helped me. He got rid of the body. He didn’t want to. He was just—he was trying to protect me.”
Karen shook her head. “You both lied to me. And you’ve been shutting me out for weeks.”
Riley wiped her face, silent.
Karen sighed. “I’m not mad at you for defending yourself. I’m mad that you didn’t think I could handle the truth.”
Riley didn’t answer at first. But her eyes filled. And then her voice cracked like a fault line.
“I saw him,” she whispered. “I followed him for three days. I just wanted to know if it was really him. And then—I don’t know—I followed him out behind a bar and he grabbed my wrist. Like it was nothing. Like I was still fifteen and scared and his.”
Karen’s chest tightened.
“I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t even trying to. I just—I had a knife. I just wanted to scare him.” She looked up at Karen, eyes begging. “I didn’t mean to do it. But once it started, I couldn’t stop. He laughed at me.”
Karen moved then, pulling Riley into her arms. The younger woman sobbed into her shoulder.
“I told Frank,” she murmured. “I didn’t know who else to call. It’s not what to think. He was protecting me”
And that somehow made it worse. Not only did Frank lie to her, he prioritized someone he just met over her. He trust Riley and didn’t trust Karen. And that hurt.
When Karen walked into the apartment, Frank was already waiting. Sitting on the edge of the couch, staring at the floor like it had answers.
“You knew,” she said, voice flat.
He didn’t deny it.
“I figured it out.”
Still, no words.
“You looked me in the face. Slept in my bed. Said nothing.”
Frank stood slowly. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
“Bullshit. She may have pulled the trigger, but you’re the one who threw the body in the goddamn river.”
He flinched like she’d slapped him.
“I trusted you,” Karen continued. “And you’ve been shutting me out. Not just this — all of it. You and Riley against the world, and I’m just what? The girl who makes your coffee?”
Frank’s jaw clenched. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It felt like that.”
They stood in the silence for a long moment.
“I’ve been trying,” she said quietly. “Every day. To love you. To trust you. Even when you won’t let me in.”
“You don’t get it, Karen. You can’t get it.”
She shook her head. “No, Frank. You don’t get it. I’ve seen you at your worst and still stayed. And you just keep shutting the door on me.”
“I was protecting you.”
“I never asked you to.”
He looked at her then. Eyes hollow. Worn. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”
“I don’t need perfect. I don’t need fixed. I just need the truth.”
She stepped closer.
“I keep loving this broken version of you, hoping you’ll let me in before you burn it all down,” she whispered. “But you won’t. You won’t.”
Frank didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
“I love you,” she said. “But I can’t do this. Not like this.”
He met her eyes, and for the first time in a long time — there was nothing left to fight with.
“Then go,” he said, voice rough. “Before I give you another reason to.”
Karen’s breath caught. She wouldn’t do this to herself. She wouldn’t stick around for a man who couldn’t trust her.
And then she turned, walked out the door, and didn’t look back.
Frank didn’t follow.
Because Karen was right. No matter how much he loved her, it wasn’t enough for him to trust her with his all. And she deserved someone’s all or nothing.