Chapter 15
I couldn't move.
Not because I didn't want to, but because my body refused to obey me. My feet felt rooted to the floor, my lungs barely pulling in air as I stood in the doorway, staring at a moment that should never have existed.
My mother and my father stepped out of the shower together.
Steam curled around them, clinging to their skin, fogging the mirrors, thickening the air until it pressed against my chest. Water slid down my father's arm and dripped onto the tiled floor. My mother's hair was damp, loose around her shoulders. They stood too close—comfortable in a way that shattered everything I thought I understood.
For a second, I wondered if I was imagining it.
Then my mother lifted her eyes and saw me.
Shame struck first—hot, violent, suffocating. Not just embarrassment, but humiliation so deep it made my stomach twist. This wasn't my home. This was her house. Nora's house. And yet somehow, that made it worse. I felt like an intruder in a truth I was never meant to witness.
"Leah…"
My father's voice cut through the silence, soft and unsteady. He took a cautious step toward me, his hand lifting slightly, as though he could calm this—as though this was something that could still be fixed.
"Let me explain."
"Don't," I snapped.
The word tore out of me, sharp and raw. My voice shook, but I didn't care. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look at either of them. If I did, I knew I would fall apart.
"Please," I added, quieter now. "Just… don't."
He froze. I could feel his eyes on me, searching, pleading. "I never wanted you to find out like this," he said.
I laughed.
It came out bitter, hollow, almost cruel. "Like this?" I asked. "There was never going to be a right way."
My mother said nothing.
She stood there wrapped in a towel, her posture stiff, her face tight. The woman who always controlled every room she entered now looked exposed, stripped of authority—and it made my chest ache with something dangerously close to hatred.
I turned away.
I didn't run. I walked, each step heavy, my skin burning with humiliation as I moved down the hallway. My hands trembled at my sides. Behind me, I heard footsteps—my father following.
"Leah," he said again. "Please."
I stopped.
I didn't turn around.
"Go," I said.
Silence.
"I said go."
Seconds passed. Then I heard him retreat—slow, careful steps moving away. A door opened. Closed. The sound of keys. A car engine starting.
And then—
Nothing.
He left.
The quiet that followed was unbearable.
The house felt colder, larger, emptier. I stood in the living room, staring at the polished floor, my arms wrapped tightly around myself like I could hold my body together through sheer force. My chest ached. My throat burned.
I waited for my mother to come after me.
She didn't.
Minutes passed. Then more. When I finally looked back, she stood at the end of the hallway, still wrapped in her towel. Her eyes wouldn't meet mine. Embarrassment clung to her like a second skin. I had never seen her like this. Nora was never embarrassed.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
I moved first.
I walked past her into the sitting room and sat down slowly, my legs shaking. My mind replayed the image again and again—steam, water, closeness—each time cutting deeper.
We stayed like that for a long time.
No words. No movement. Just the ticking of the clock on the wall, loud and relentless.
Something inside me cracked.
"How long?" I asked suddenly.
My voice sounded far away, like it didn't belong to me.
She turned slowly. "Leah—"
"How long?" I repeated. "How long have you been doing this with him?"
Her jaw tightened. "This is not something you get to question."
I stood up. "He has another wife," I said. "Another family. Children. And you knew."
She looked away.
That small movement—so dismissive, so controlled—lit a fire in me.
"You stood in front of me every day judging everyone," I said. "Acting like you were above this. Acting like you were untouchable."
"Watch your tone," she warned.
"You humiliated me," I said, my voice shaking. "I walked into your house and saw my parents together like that."
"That is between me and him," she snapped.
"It stopped being private the moment I saw it."
The air felt heavy. My hands trembled, not with fear, but with anger that had been buried too long.
"And maybe this shouldn't surprise me," I continued quietly. "Maybe this is just who you are."
Her eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"
I swallowed. My chest tightened. Then the other truth—the one I had kept locked away—forced its way out.
"I know what you did to Kian's father."
The room changed.
"I know about the ice business," I said. "I've known for weeks."
Her face went still.
"You ruined him," I said, louder now. "You destroyed his livelihood because you could. I stayed quiet. I protected you."
She stepped toward me, fury flashing in her eyes. "You had no right."
"You had no right to destroy him," I shouted. "You destroy people and call it power. You hurt them and call it control."
Her hand moved—
And she slapped me.