Chapter 11: Ripped By My Roommate’s Dad

~Maya~

I should’ve known.

I should’ve known something was wrong the second I stepped into the hallway and saw her door open. Kayla never leaves her door open. Like, ever. Not even when she’s just brushing her hair or doing her makeup or scrolling TikTok on the floor like a little gremlin. She always closes it. Always. Which is exactly why my stomach dropped the second I saw it wide open—curtains drawn, light on, silence thick.

And then?

I saw my box.

Not my box, like, cute gift box, oh my God happy birthday—no. I mean the box. The white plastic one with the two wrappers inside. The one that used to have my pregnancy tests in it. The one I had shoved under the sink in the guest bathroom and completely fucking forgotten about because I’ve been a hormonal mess for days and all I’ve been thinking about is Daddy’s cum and whether I’m going to get bigger and how soon I’ll start showing.

Yeah.

That box.

It was on her bed.

Open.

Empty.

Exposed.

And Kayla?

Kayla was standing beside it holding the test in her hand. Her face pale. Her fingers shaking. Her brows drawn together in that sharp, scary way she gets when she’s confused and about to start yelling and no one knows why yet. And I—I just froze.

Like totally froze.

Mid-step.

Mid-thought.

My lips were parted and I was pretty sure I looked like someone had slapped me with a wet towel and unplugged my brain.

Because she wasn’t supposed to find it.

She wasn’t supposed to see it.

She wasn’t supposed to know.

“Maya,” she said.

And it wasn’t even a question. It was a sentence. Like a bullet.

“I—I can explain,” I started, even though I absolutely could not explain, not in any way that made sense, not in any way that didn’t end with her screaming or throwing something or getting in the car and driving off forever, and I knew that, I knew that, but my mouth still opened and tried anyway because I’m me and I panic-talk when I get scared.

“I just—I didn’t mean to leave it there, I swear, I was going to throw it away and I didn’t think anyone would find it and I didn’t even mean for any of this to happen and I was just really overwhelmed and tired and—”

Her eyes narrowed.

She lifted the test.

“It’s positive.”

I swallowed. My whole mouth went dry. My hands were shaking again. My thighs clenched out of habit.

“Who’s the father?”

And that? That right there? That was the moment.

The moment I could’ve lied.

I could’ve said it was some boy from campus. Some guy at a party. Some idiot I hooked up with once and forgot. I could’ve spun a whole story and maybe—maybe—she would’ve believed me.

But I didn’t lie.

Because I was too tired.

Because I was already his.

Because the truth was bleeding through my skin and throbbing in my womb and leaking from between my legs every time he bred me and told me I was his fucking girl.

So I looked her dead in the eye and said—

“Your dad.”

She blinked.

Like—fully blinked.

Like it didn’t register at first. Like she didn’t even compute it.

And then she froze.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

My heart was pounding.

“I said… it’s your dad’s.”

And the room exploded.

“Are you fucking insane?” she screamed, voice breaking, eyes wild, face going red like a firework had gone off behind her eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve been sleeping with my fucking dad? You’ve been fucking him in this house? While I was home? While I was upstairs—what—the actual—fuck, Maya!”

I was crying. Of course I was crying. My whole face was hot and wet and I couldn’t stop. I was shaking and nodding and whispering I’m sorry over and over again like it was a spell that could undo this disaster.

And then—

Then she said it.

“You’re disgusting.”

I choked.

Like—physically choked.

Because yeah, okay, I knew she’d be mad. I knew she’d scream. I knew she’d hate me. But hearing her say that? With that look in her eyes like I was dirt under her shoe? Like I was filth? That cut deeper than anything.

And I was about to walk out. I was about to run.

But then I saw her eyes flick toward the dresser.

And I froze.

She was still looking at me—but her body was facing the dresser. Her chest rising. Her lips parted. Like she’d seen a ghost.

“What’s that?” she said.

I turned.

And my whole soul dropped into my knees.

There.

On the dresser.

Sitting in plain sight.

Was a tiny black box.

With a red blinking light.

A camera.

A fucking camera.

“Oh my God,” Kayla breathed. “Is that a camera? Did you—?”

“No,” I said. “No, I swear to God I didn’t put that there, I didn’t know it was—”

But I didn’t finish.

Because she moved.

Walked over. Grabbed it. Turned it around.

And saw the brand.

Maddox Surveillance.

She looked at me.

Then at the camera.

Then back at me.

And I swear the silence that followed could’ve shattered the fucking planet.

“He recorded you,” she whispered. “He’s been recording you.”