Chapter 25 - The Marble Trap

(Trish's POV)

"Say it again," I breathed, my voice trembling so hard the words barely left my throat. "Say it to my face, Joseph. Tell me I'm the reason your life is falling apart."

The kitchen was a cathedral of cold marble and sharp shadows. Joseph stood across from me, his chest heaving, his school tie ripped open at the collar. 

He looked at me like I was the damage, like everything unraveling around him was something I'd caused. He didn't see my fear, or how small I felt standing there. He only saw someone convenient to blame for the mess he was desperate to outrun.

"You heard me," he hissed, his eyes bloodshot and terrifyingly dark. "Everything was fine. We had a plan. And then you brought that—that 'filth' Christian into this house. You brought the school's eyes into our living room!"

"I didn't bring anything! Christian must've followed us! Anaya barged in here after all!" I shouted, slamming my hands against the counter. The vibration rattled the empty glasses. "I spent every single day being a ghost for you! I hid in corners."

"And look how that worked out!" Joseph roared. He snatched his phone off the island and shoved it toward my face. The screen was a blur of notifications, but the headline was unmistakable.

<ROLAND'S NEW TOY: A Dark Secret inside his Mansion. Is the Grieving Girl a Charity Case or a Plaything?>

"The athletic board just called. Suspension, Trish. I've been ruled ineligible to play football until further notice. They don't want a 'predator' representing the team. That was my only way out! If not, then in two, maybe three years, this house could be sold out from under us. Mom is doing her best, smiling through it, but I know the truth. Even she can't hold it together forever."

"You think I wanted this, Joseph?" I snapped. "You think I enjoy being the school's favorite joke? You think I don't care about Miss Brit—or about what happens to the house? Fuck! She's my mom too." I felt the hot sting of tears, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of him.

The shock of his confession: that even Miss Britney, always cheerful and smiling, was struggling, hit me harder than I expected. Being a single parent was already enough, but taking me in on top of that? The realization shattered something in my chest, leaving me gasping for breath. I'd never thought of her strength as something that came at such a cost.

Why was it always like this? Why did the heaviest burdens seem to fall on the kindest people, the ones who kept giving, even when they had nothing left to spare?

"I think you're a curse," he said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper that cut deeper than the shouting. "My mother opened her doors because she loved your mom, and in return, you gave her a son who's a social pariah. Every time I look at you, I see the end of everything I've built."

"I have no one else, Joseph. You know that," I whispered, the full weight of my situation crashing down on me. "I thought… I thought we were in this together."

"There is no us," he snapped, stepping into my space, his shadow looming over me. "There's just a house full of lies and a girl who brought nothing but—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening.

"I think it's best we stop deceiving ourselves," he continued more quietly, avoiding my eyes. "Two people living under the same roof doesn't mean we had to date each other. But once we did, everything got twisted. People won't see it as feelings or circumstance - just a scandal." He swallowed hard. "So I think… I think it's just best we part ways."

What was I hearing? Was my dream man; the one I cared about more than anyone in this world really telling me to part ways? To leave his house? Now?

As I fought the urge to cry and weep for my misfortune, the heavy, rhythmic thud-thud of the front door opening echoed through the foyer.

We both froze, trying to cleanse our faces of the rage, anger, and heartbreak threatening to spill between us.

"Hello? My favorite people! Why is it so quiet in here?"

Miss Britney's voice was bright, clear, and full of the authority that came with being a CEO. We heard the sharp click of her designer heels on the hardwood, getting closer. She sounded happy; the sound of someone who had just closed a successful deal and was looking forward to a quiet evening with her family.

"Joseph? Trish? I brought that takeout you like from the bistro," she called out, her voice moving through the dining room.

Joseph's face went from a mask of rage to a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. He scrambled to lock his phone, his hands shaking so hard he almost dropped it. I shoved my own phone into my back pocket, trying to wipe my face with the back of my hand, but it was too late. My eyes were red, my breathing jagged.

Miss Britney stepped into the kitchen. She looked radiant, her blazer perfectly tailored, her hair impeccable. She was smiling, holding a bag of expensive food, until she looked up.

She stopped. Her smile didn't just fade; it vanished. Her sharp, CEO eyes darted between Joseph's disheveled appearance and my tear-stained face.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice losing its warmth and gaining the razor-sharp edge she used in boardrooms. "Did something happen at school? Why do you both look like you've been through a war?"

"Mom, it's nothing, we were just—" Joseph started, his voice cracking.

"Don't lie to me, Joseph Roland," she snapped, stepping further into the room. She set the takeout bag on the counter with a heavy thud, her gaze flicking between us as her intuition caught the scent of the disaster we were trying to hide. 

"This house feels like it's about to explode. Talk. Now."

Before either of us could say a word, her phone, already in her hand, vibrated. Then it chimed. And rang again.

Calls lined the screen; probably the school's board of directors, maybe even Mthland City's press. I couldn't tell yet.

But as she looked down at the caller IDs, her face hardening, my lungs forgot how to work.