Chapter 2
1064words
White-hot rage scorched through my brain. The world before me warped and blurred.
"You fucking bitch!"
I lunged at her like a feral animal, desperate to claw that smug, victorious smile off her face.
Before I could reach her, a strong arm caught me mid-air. My father.
He hadn't even bothered to dress, instinctively shielding her with his naked body.
"Enough!" he roared. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" His eyes held no guilt—only irritation at being interrupted.
Those cold eyes cut deeper than any knife, chilling me more than the sight of them tangled together in bed.
"I'm crazy?" Tears streamed down my face as I stared at this man I once worshipped. "Look at yourself! Look at that whore beneath you! What kind of sick game are you playing?"
"What we're doing?" Damian laughed coldly, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Since when do I report to you? Remember your place—I am your father!"
His self-righteous tone made it seem like I was the one caught in the wrong.
Scarlett peered around his shoulder, still wearing nothing but his shirt. Watching my breakdown, her smile widened.
She silently mouthed two words: Game over.
My world imploded. My hero father. My best friend. They'd joined forces to deliver the cruelest blow possible, trampling everything I'd ever valued.
I stared at them—him naked, her disheveled—in our family's suite. Like two rutting animals who'd just finished their dirty business.
Bile rose in my throat. Covering my mouth, I stumbled out the door and down the endless corridor.
I fled home to our mansion—once warm and magnificent, now just a cold, ornate tomb.
I burst into the living room where Mom sat elegantly sipping tea. She startled at the sight of me—tear-streaked and wild-eyed.
"Ava? Sweetheart, what's happened?" She set down her cup and rushed toward me, arms outstretched.
I clutched her hands, my voice shattered by sobs: "Mom… Dad and Scarlett… in the hotel room… they were…"
I didn't need to finish. Any wife would understand the betrayal hidden in those broken words.
I waited for her shock, her rage, her meltdown.
But nothing came.
The color drained from Mom's face, leaving it paper-white. Not with shock, but with a despair she'd long anticipated yet refused to acknowledge.
She asked no details. Her body simply began to tremble, her eyes vacant, as if her soul had fled.
After a long silence, she gripped my hand with bone-crushing force and wordlessly pulled me to her bedroom, looking utterly lost.
That bedroom we'd decorated together, once warm and loving, now suffocated with grief.
She approached her vanity and extracted a locked box from the bottom of her jewelry case. Her hands shook so badly she struggled to fit the tiny key into the lock.
The box opened with a soft click. Inside were no glittering jewels—only carefully folded receipts and a man's shirt wrapped in silk.
She laid each item on the bed like exhibits of her festering wounds.
"Your father's receipt from Milan last month. Dinner for two." Her voice was barely audible. "He claimed it was a client meeting, but this restaurant is a three-star couples-only venue. They don't take business reservations."
She lifted the shirt, which carried Dad's familiar cologne mixed with a sickeningly sweet perfume.
Scarlett's signature scent—the one I'd given her for her birthday.
"That girl…" Mom whispered. "I always noticed how she looked at your father. Not with admiration, but with…"
She didn't finish, but I understood.
Hatred.
Mom's tears finally fell as she confessed the words that had been driving her mad: "I've known something was wrong for so long. I thought… I thought if I just ignored it, it would go away."
Her hopeless resignation doused the last ember of hope in my heart.
She'd known all along. She'd been lying to herself this entire time.
"Go away?" My voice turned razor-sharp with disappointment. "Mom, he's parading his mistress right in front of us! How much longer can you keep pretending?"
I gripped her shoulders and shook her, trying to wake her from her tragic delusion. "Let's leave him! Walk away from this disgusting man! We don't need his money—we'll be fine on our own!"
I thought my words would ignite her courage, but Mom recoiled from me in fear, backing away.
"No… no, Ava, we can't…" She shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her face. "We just can't…"
"Why the hell not?" I shouted, my voice breaking.
"We're too entangled with him…" Her voice cracked with despair. "The family name, the company… Damian controls everything. If we leave, we'll have nothing! For your future, Ava… for your security… we can't make things worse…"
She reached for me, but I stepped back in disgust.
She looked at me with desperate eyes. "Please, Ava, let it go. I'm begging you… just endure it. All men do this. When he gets bored… he'll come back to us."
"Come back when he's bored?" I echoed, incredulous. In that moment, my disappointment in my mother cut deeper than my hatred for my father.
Just then, my phone pinged with a new message.
I opened it mechanically. From Scarlett.
The photo showed a gleaming red Ferrari parked on a coastal highway, sunset glinting off its polished surface.
The caption read: [Daddy's latest gift. He says red matches my fire.]
Her brazen flaunting hit like a slap across both our faces.
I thrust the screen in front of Mom's face. "Look! This is what your 'endurance' gets us! He'll never get bored, and she'll never be satisfied!"
I hoped the photo might finally ignite her fighting spirit—force her to face reality.
But Mom barely glanced at it before turning away, as if burned. She covered her face, shoulders heaving with silent sobs.
She chose denial. Again.
Looking between this broken woman and the triumphant mistress on my screen, a profound loneliness and rage consumed me.
In this family, I would have to fight alone.
I wiped away my tears, saved the photo, and pocketed my phone.
My eyes hardened with resolve.
To the woman before me, lost in her grief, I said—more to myself than to her: "What you're too afraid to do, I'll do myself."
"If you won't fight for your marriage and your dignity, I'll fight for you."
