The morning sun poured through the kitchen windows, painting the white marble countertops in soft gold. My thighs pressed together under the table, not from desire this time, but from the constant ache of guilt that never quite left my body.Mom was pouring coffee, her elegant silk robe loose at the neck. She looked refreshed from her spa day yesterday, hair in a loose ponytail, smiling that soft, trusting smile she always gave me like I was still her little girl.“Cassandra, honey, come sit closer,” she said, sliding a plate of fresh berries and yogurt toward me. “I wanted to talk to you before the day gets too hectic.”I slid into the chair across from her, forcing a polite smile even though my stomach was twisting. Derek was already there, reading the paper with his usual calm control, but I could feel his eyes flicking toward me every few seconds — dark, hungry, possessive. “Mom, what’s up?” I asked, poking at my fruit.She set her coffee down and leaned forward, her voice wa
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