Chapter 2 The Hayes house

CONNOR’S POV

The front doors of Hayes Manor creaked open before I even touched the handle. Gerald, our butler, gave me a nod as if I were a guest, not the son who lived here.

“Welcome home, Mr. Hayes,” he said.

I hated when people called me that. That was my father’s name.

Inside, the marble floors gleamed so bright they reflected the chandelier overhead. The smell of polished wood and my mother’s favorite roses clung to the air. From the outside, my house looked like perfection. Inside, it was a battlefield.

“Connor.”

My father’s voice carried from the dining room. I felt my jaw tighten. He was still in his business suit even though it was past seven, tie knotted perfectly, hair silver at the edges but cut sharp. My mother sat beside him, a perfect porcelain statue with a glass of wine in hand.

“You skipped practice,” my father said without looking up from his phone.

“I had classwork.”

“You had excuses.” His eyes finally met mine. Cold. Calculating. “If you want to keep that starting position, you don’t get to choose academics over the team.”

I didn’t answer. Fighting him never worked.

Chelsea entered then, tossing her bag onto a chair and rolling her eyes. “Maybe if you let him breathe for once, he wouldn’t hate this house so much.”

“Chelsea,” my mother warned softly.

“Don’t Chelsea me,” she shot back. “Dad acts like he owns us, not like he’s raising us.”

My father’s glare snapped to her, but she didn’t flinch. I envied that about her—her ability to push back. Me? I’d learned silence kept the peace.

Dinner passed in strained quiet until my father’s phone rang. He excused himself, muttering about “business calls.” I caught the flicker in my mother’s eyes—the same flicker I saw whenever she pretended not to know he wasn’t talking to a client but to the woman he’d been seeing for years.

Afterward, Chelsea cornered me in the hallway. “You okay?”

I shrugged. “Same as always.”

Her expression softened. “You looked at someone today.”

I blinked. “What?”

“In the hall. The new girl. Emma Carter.”

I felt heat crawl up my neck. “I was just… curious.”

“Mm-hm.” Chelsea smirked, then patted my shoulder. “She’s different. And I think you like different.”

Before I could argue, she disappeared into her room, humming to herself.

I lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling. My father’s voice echoed in my head, cold and heavy. But every time I shut my eyes, I didn’t see him.

I saw her—the nervous girl with hazel eyes who looked at this school like it might swallow her whole.

I opened my eyes and took my phone out, went to messages.

CONNER❣️

“Hi this is Conner “

INTERESTING 🦢

“Hello i know I saved your number “

“Whats up do you have more things to add to the project?”

CONNER❣️

“No just wanted to start a conversation see if I have the right number “

INTERESTING 🦢

“Oh okay “

CONNER❣️

“Anyway, good night see you in school “

INTERESTING 🦢

“Good night “