Chapter 8: Trapped

SANDRA’S POV

Clayton house is exactly what I expected. Everything is placed exactly where it should be, the lighting soft but controlled, the air quiet in a way that doesn’t feel peaceful, just measured.

Like nothing here is allowed to go wrong. The long dining table stretches between us. I sit down slowly. Austin on my right. Kelvin on my left.

Trapped. I feel it immediately, before anyone even speaks, before the first glass is touched. This isn’t just dinner, this is pressure.

My dad starts talking first, flipping through his documents, already focused, already in that space where everything is numbers and outcomes. “This expansion gives us stability,” he says, his tone steady, confident. “With the right backing, we’d scale faster than projected.”

Kelvin listens, calm, composed, his posture relaxed but controlled, like he doesn’t need to prove anything. “I’ve reviewed everything,” he says. “There’s potential.”

Simple. But it’s enough. I see it in my dad’s face, the way his shoulders ease slightly, the way pride settles there quietly.

He’s impressed. More than impressed. Hopeful. And that makes something tighten inside me. Because I know what’s sitting under this table. What’s sitting between us. What could destroy all of this.

Austin’s hand slides onto my thigh under the table.

I freeze. It’s not soft or accidental. It’s intentional, like he’s reminding me I’m still his. My body locks for a second, my breath catching slightly as his fingers press just enough to hold me there.

I don’t react immediately. I can’t, not here. Not in front of my dad, not in front of Kelvin but I feel it. Every second of it. Across the table, Kelvin sees it. I don’t need to look to know. 

When I do glance up, his expression hasn’t changed, still calm, but his jaw tightens slightly, enough to give him away. He noticed. “Relax,” Austin murmurs beside me, low, almost casual. “You’re too tense.” I don’t look at him. “I’m fine.”

Lie, everything about tonight is a lie. Dinner moves forward. Plates shift. Wine is poured. I take a sip, then another, just enough to give my hands something to do, something to focus on besides the weight of his hand still resting where it shouldn’t be.

My dad keeps talking. Numbers. Growth. Future. Kelvin responds when needed, asking the right questions, guiding the conversation without taking it over, like control comes naturally to him. “I don’t invest in short-term wins,” he says. “I look at longevity.”

My dad nods immediately. “That’s exactly what we need.” I swallow because this matters. More than anything else in this room and I’m sitting here knowing I’ve already crossed a line that could cost him everything.

The door opens. I barely register it at first. Until I hear her voice. “Hi…... I hope I’m not late.”

Everything inside me tightens instantly. Pamela. I turn slowly. She stands there like she belongs, dressed carefully, soft expression, like she didn’t stand in that room with him, like nothing ever happened.

Austin doesn’t even hesitate. “I invited her,” he says easily. Of course he did. Pamela walks closer, her eyes finding mine immediately, something uncertain flickering there before she smooths it over. “Sandra…...” she says softly.

I don’t respond. She sits across from me, hands folding together like she’s holding herself steady. “I’ve been trying to reach you,” she says quietly. “I just….. I need you to understand…….”

“No.” The word comes out calm. Her lips part slightly. “I’m serious,” I add, steady. “Don’t.”

Silence stretches. She nods slowly, looking down like she accepts it. But I know her. This isn’t over for her.

Austin shifts beside me, his hand tightening slightly on my thigh again, like he’s pulling me back into place, like he doesn’t like the direction this is going. “Let’s not do this here,” he says lightly.

Across from me, Kelvin watches everything. His eyes track every movement, every reaction, every shift I try to hide and the way his attention lingers on me makes it harder to breathe evenly.

My dad doesn’t notice anything. He’s still focused on the deal, still talking, still trusting that everything around him is exactly what it looks like.

I wish it was. I take another sip of wine. Then another. Not enough to lose control, just enough to take the edge off but even that isn’t working the way I want it to. Because I’m still aware.

Of Austin. Of Pamela. Of Kelvin. Of everything pressing in at once.

Dinner drags. Or maybe it just feels that way. At some point, chairs shift, voices lower, the conversation winding down naturally.

I push my chair back slowly, steady even though my head feels slightly light now. “I should go.” Austin stands immediately. “I’ll drive you.”

“No.” Too fast. Silence flickers for a second. Kelvin speaks before it settles. “I’ll take her.” Austin turns to him, something tightening in his expression. “That’s not necessary.”

Kelvin doesn’t move. “It’s fine,” he says simply. My dad looks between us briefly, then nods. “That works.”

Of course it does. He trusts him. That trust presses down heavier than anything else tonight. Austin doesn’t argue further. Not here. Not in front of them. I stand, picking up my bag, aware of Kelvin stepping closer.