BRUISES AND BEGINNING

PIPER’S POV

I took a long stare at the caller ID, it was Ruben Archer.

My heart nearly drops into my stomach, what the hell does he want? How come he was calling my line , questions kept churning and turning my head.

Hands trembling slightly, I accept the call and press the phone to my ear, cautiously.

“Hello?” I say, voice low and unsure.

“Piper,” Ruben's voice is calm, deep, and too familiar. “Glad you picked up.”

I blink, stunned. Of all the people who could've reached out to me… “Why are you calling me?”

“I just wanted to check in. It’s been a whirlwind of a week, hasn’t it? Wedding, press, transition—this sort of thing can be overwhelming.”

I pause, caught off-guard by his tone. It’s… normal. Polite even. No trace of the man who forced my father’s hand.

“I’m fine,” I say stiffly, “Though I’m still not sure why you’d be the one checking in on me. Shouldn’t that be your son’s job?”

Ruben chuckles lightly. “Rowan doesn’t always have the best people skills.

I figured a softer voice might help you settle in.”

I want to scream, Soft? This man practically bought me like a vintage car, and now he’s talking like we’re family.

“Thank you,” I murmur, unsure of what else to say.

“I just want us all to get along,” he continues, “Especially now that we’re connected. You’re part of the Archer family, Piper.”

The words sit wrong in my chest. Part of the Archer family. Like I’d been adopted—or absorbed—into something dark and unknowable.

“Is that all?” I ask, trying not to sound too bitter.

“For now,” he says smoothly. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

The line clicks off.

I stare at the screen for a long second before slowly lowering the phone. My chest is tight, my mind tangled with questions. Why did Ruben really call me? Was he checking in—or checking on me?

Rowan watches me silently from his seat beside mine. His jaw is tight, his eyes unreadable.

“What?” I snap, slipping the phone back into my bag.

“Let’s go,” he says simply, rising from the bench outside the pharmacy. “We’re done here.”

The car moved in tense silence, the low hum of the engine, the only sound between us. I kept my eyes glued to the window, arms crossed, anger and confusion pressing like weights on my chest. Rowan hadn't spoken a word since we left the pharmacy. And frankly, I didn’t want him to.

I was still fuming.

Fuming that he could insult me, make me feel like I was nothing, and then have the audacity to act like he didn’t just explode in the car.

The silence was deafening, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want his apologies. I didn’t even want his explanations.

Then suddenly a sharp jolt.

Thud.

My body lurched forward slightly, and my forehead knocked softly against the edge of the dashboard before I could steady myself.

"Shit!" I hissed, my hand flying to my head.

Rowan cursed under his breath and pulled over almost immediately. “Damn bump,” he muttered, unbuckling quickly. “Are you alright?”

I glared at him as I leaned back, rubbing my forehead gently. “What the hell was that?”

“You okay?” he asked again, ignoring my question.

“No,” I snapped. “You just cracked my skull open, thanks for asking.”

He let out a sigh—half annoyed, half... worried?

To my shock, he opened the glove compartment, pulled out a small white towel, and handed it to me without a word.

“What is this?” I mumbled, inspecting the soft material.

“Use it. You’re bleeding a little.”

I raised my hand and, sure enough, a faint trace of blood stained my fingertips. My chest tightened as I looked at him—really looked at him. His brows were furrowed in a way that didn’t seem fake. His eyes scanned my face like he was... genuinely checking for damage.

“Here, give it to me,” he said suddenly, reaching across the console.

“What? I can do it—”

“Just hold still,” he muttered, voice lower now.

He took the towel and, gently, brought it to my forehead. His touch was soft, way too soft for someone like him. His thumb grazed my skin as he dabbed at the area, careful not to apply pressure. The scent of his cologne dark, woodsy, sharp washed over me, and my heartbeat betrayed me by fluttering in my chest.

He said nothing. Just focused on cleaning the wound.

“There,” he said after a moment, leaning back but still watching me. “Not too bad.”

I blinked, stunned. “You done playing nurse?”

That earned a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. But close.

“Are you always this mouthy even with a head injury?” he asked, folding the towel back neatly.

“Are you always this annoyingly caring after insulting someone?”

The almost-smile vanished.

“I didn’t mean ” He paused. “Forget it.”

“No. Go ahead. What didn’t you mean? That I’m useless? Or that I’m the daughter of a man who would sell me like a sack of potatoes?”

His jaw clenched. He started the engine again. “We’re going home.”

Of course we were.

The rest of the ride passed in silence again, but it felt heavier now. Tense in a different way. Charged, somehow. I stared at my hands in my lap the entire time, heart still drumming from the strange moment we just shared.

I was thinking of my family and all, and as to why my father did this , now it seems all my life I would be baring insults from this man near me, and honestly I was tired

“Why the look?”

“What do you mean why the look” I retorted back at him

“You have been giving me deadly stares “

“Just leave me alone” I said as I relaxed back into my chair

When we finally pulled into the driveway, I was halfway to storming out of the car when the front door of the mansion creaked open.

And there he was.

Ruben Archer.

Lounging in one of the grand armchairs like he owned the world, hands steepled, and that signature crooked smile playing on his lips.

“Ah, there she is,” he said smoothly. “How are you, our dear Mrs. Piper archer ?”

My blood turned cold.