CHAPTER 2: BREAKFAST AS USUAL

Three months.

That was how long Josh had been fucking me in secret under this roof.

It wasn’t new anymore. The first time had been frantic and rough against my bedroom wall, his hand clamped over my mouth while Sarah watched television downstairs. Now it was routine. He would wait until the house went quiet, slip into my room without knocking, lock the door, and take what he wanted. Sometimes he was slow and deep, dragging it out until I was shaking. Sometimes he was hard and mean, pinning my wrists above my head and growling filthy things against my neck. He always left before sunrise, and in the morning we sat across from each other at the breakfast table like nothing had ever happened.

This morning was no different.

Sunlight spilled across the kitchen island. Sarah stood at the stove in her robe, humming under her breath while she flipped pancakes. The smell of butter and coffee filled the room. Richard sat at the head of the table in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled once at the wrists, scrolling through something on his phone. Josh sat directly across from me, legs spread, hoodie half-zipped, eating like he hadn’t had his cock buried inside me four hours earlier.

I kept my eyes on my plate.

Every time I shifted in the chair, the dull ache between my legs reminded me. I could still feel the ghost of his fingers digging into my hips. The faint bruises along my inner thighs throbbed under my leggings. I had chosen a high-neck sweater on purpose. The mark he had left just above my collarbone was still too fresh.

Sarah set a plate of pancakes in front of me and smiled. “You look tired, baby. Up late studying again?”

I forced a small smile and reached for the syrup. “Yeah. Midterms are killing me.”

Josh didn’t even glance up from his phone. “She’s always up late.” His voice was casual, almost bored. The same voice he had used last night when he had me on my knees at the edge of the bed, fist in my hair, telling me to open wider.

Richard’s eyes lifted from his phone. He looked at me, then at Josh, then back at me again. Slow. Measuring.

“You’re both quiet this morning,” he said.

Josh finally looked up. He gave a lazy shrug. “Just tired, Dad. Late night.”

Richard’s gaze drifted to the edge of my sweater. I felt the weight of it like a hand on my skin. I tugged the fabric higher without thinking. His expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes sharpened.

Sarah laughed softly and waved a hand. “They’re always like this. Two walking zombies until noon.” She leaned over and kissed the top of my head, the same way she had since I was little. “I’m heading out early. Book club ran long last week and I promised I’d bring snacks. Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.”

She grabbed her keys and purse. The front door closed behind her a few minutes later with a soft click.

Silence settled over the kitchen.

Josh stood first, stretching like he had nowhere important to be. The hem of his hoodie rode up just enough to show a strip of skin above his waistband. I looked away.

“I’ve got class,” he said. He walked past my chair on the way to the hallway. For half a second his fingers brushed the back of my neck—light, deliberate, a reminder that still burned. Then he was gone. The front door opened and shut again.

Richard didn’t move.

I kept my eyes on my plate, pushing a piece of pancake around with my fork. The syrup had gone cold.

“Eliana.”

His voice was low. Controlled. The same tone he used when he was about to correct something.

I looked up.

Richard set his coffee mug down carefully, like the sound of it against the table might break something. He leaned back in his chair and studied me. The kind of look that made me feel like he could see straight through the sweater, through the bruises, through every night I had spent with his son’s hand over my mouth.

“Is there something going on between you and Josh that I should know about?”

My heart slammed once, hard enough that I was sure he could hear it.

I kept my face blank. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes moved over me again—my hair still slightly damp from the quick shower I had taken after Josh left, the way I held my shoulders too tight, the faint shadow under my eyes that no amount of concealer could fully hide.

“You’ve been different these past few months,” he said finally. “Quieter. And Josh has been… attentive in a way he never was before.”

I forced a short laugh that sounded wrong even to me. “We’re just living in the same house. That’s all.”

Richard’s mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “Is it?”

The question hung between us.

I set my fork down carefully. “There’s nothing going on.”

He held my gaze for another long moment. Then he stood, adjusted his cuffs, and picked up his phone.

“All right,” he said. The words were mild. The look in his eyes was not. “If that ever changes, I expect to hear it from you first.”

He walked out of the kitchen without another word. His footsteps faded down the hallway toward the garage.

I sat there staring at the empty doorway, pulse still racing, the taste of syrup suddenly too sweet on my tongue.

We were still acting like nothing had happened.

But Richard was starting to look too closely.

And I had no idea how much longer the secret would hold.