chapter 23: The conversation

Bronte’s POV

We sat in the living room like strangers.

Mom was on the couch, back straight, hands clenched in her lap.

Rufus sat in the armchair across from her, calm and composed. I stayed standing near the doorway tense to sit, the necklace burning against my skin like a secret about to be exposed.

Jake’s name hung in the air between us even though he wasn’t here.

Mom spoke first.

“Jake sent me photos,” she said, her voice tight.

“he sent timestamps, locations. He says Bronte has been going to your apartment when I was away. He says there’s more he wants me to see it.”

Rufus didn’t flinch. “Jake is obsessed with Bronte. He’s been trying to get her back since before we got married. This is his way of creating chaos.”

Mom’s eyes flicked to me. “Is that true, Bronte? Have you been going to his apartment?”

My mouth went dry.

The lie sat on my tongue, ready, but the weight of everything, Chloe’s warnings, Jake’s documents, the men, the nights made it hard to speak.

“I… went a few times,” I said carefully. “For help with school stuff, projects. Nothing more.”

Mom stared at me for a long second. Then she looked back at Rufus.

“I want to believe you both,” she said.

“But something feels off. Bronte has been different.

She has been distant and Jake is persistent enough that I’m starting to wonder if there’s any truth to what he’s saying.”

Rufus leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.

His voice stayed steady, almost gentle.

“Catherine. I love you. I married you. Bronte is my stepdaughter. Whatever Jake is trying to imply is dangerous and false. If you want, I can show you my apartment logs, camera footage. Whatever you need.”

The offer made my stomach twist. I knew there was camera footage. Just not the kind that would help us.

Mom was quiet for a long time. Finally she stood up.

“I need space to think,” she said. “I’m going to stay at a hotel tonight. I don’t want to make any decisions while I’m this upset.”

She looked at me one more time. “Bronte if there’s something you need to tell me, now is the time.”

I shook my head, the words stuck in my throat.

Mom left without another word. The sound of the front door closing felt final.

Rufus stayed seated for a moment, staring at the empty space where Mom had been.

Then he stood up and walked over to me. His hands came up to cup my face, but there was no softness in his eyes now.

“She knows something,” he said quietly. “Not everything. But enough to start digging.”

I swallowed hard. “What do we do?”

Rufus’s thumb brushed over my bottom lip.

“We prepare,” he said.

“And we make sure that when the truth comes out it’s on our terms.”

He kissed me hard, claiming, and angry, I felt the shift in him. The careful control was cracking.

The version of Rufus who planned everything was starting to give way to the version that would burn the whole house down before he lost me.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure which one scared me more.