Stanley sat like he belonged there.
His arm draped lazily over the chair, suit crisp and pressed, his smile all teeth—too white, too sharp. His dark eyes dragged over Livvy, lingering, owning, his gaze a slow, cruel caress that made every inch of her skin crawl.
Her mother perched on the couch beside him, hands folded primly in her lap. Her father stood near the fireplace, jaw tight, arms crossed. They clung to Stanley’s every word, nodding along as he spun his story—the wronged husband, the loving father, the desperate man trying to bring his wife and daughter home.
Livvy’s nails dug into the strap of her bag. Her throat burned. They were believing him.
Her voice trembled when she spoke. “He hit me.”
The words felt like glass—raw, jagged, cutting her from the inside out.
Stanley barely blinked. He just let out a soft, pitying sigh, shaking his head. “She’s confused.” His voice was smooth, soothing, a liar’s lullaby. “Poor thing’s been through a lot. Ran off in the middle of the night, took my daughter. I was out of my mind with worry.”
His gaze flicked to hers, dark and vicious.
“Isn’t that right, darling?”
Her mother’s lips thinned, the disapproval in her expression sharp enough to slice. “We taught you better than running away, Livvy,” she said gently, like Livvy was a child misbehaving at a dinner party. “Apologize to your husband right now.”
Her father’s disappointment cut deeper. “You’ve embarrassed us enough,” he growled. “Go home with Stanley and fix this.”
Livvy’s pulse roared in her ears.
She should’ve known. Her parents had never chosen her before. Why would they start now?
Her fingers trembled around the strap of her bag, knuckles white. She took a step back, shaking her head. “No—I can’t—”
Stanley moved.His hand clamped around her wrist, an iron vice, fingers pressing too hard into already bruised skin.
“We’re going home,” he hissed, voice low, lethal.
The panic hit all at once. Her breath caught, her body stiffening, her heart hammering in her chest. And then—the doorbell rang.
Stanley’s jaw twitched. His grip tightened before he exhaled, forcing himself to let go. “Stay here,” he growled, stalking toward the door.
Livvy’s wrist throbbed as she cradled it against her chest, sucking in a shaky breath.
The front door swung open. A shadow filled the frame.
Daniel.
His suit was pristine, his posture relaxed—but his eyes, his eyes, were cold. Calculating. Taking in everything.
Stanley. Livvy. The way she cradled her wrist like it had already bruised.
His mouth curved into something that almost resembled a smile.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” Daniel drawled, stepping inside like he owned the place. His voice was smooth, steady. “Boss sent me to settle a… dispute.”