All Chapters of Beneath The Sheets : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

NoraEthan’s hand closed around my wrist before I could step back.“Come with me,” he said, voice low and calm. Not a request.I tried to pull free. “I was just—”“Save it.” He already started walking, tugging me down the hallway away from the master bedroom. My heart slammed so hard I could hear it in my ears. Every step felt like the floor might give out.He pushed open a door at the end of the hall and pulled me inside. Ethan’s room was large, dimly lit by a single lamp near the bed. Dark sheets. Clean, expensive clutter. The door clicked shut behind us. He turned the lock.I backed up until my legs hit the edge of the mattress.He stood there for a second just looking at me, that same lazy smirk from the hallway still on his face. Then he spoke.“You were watching my dad fuck my mom. Standing there like a little spy with your mouth open.” He took a slow step closer. “What do you think happens if I walk back

NoraThe rest of the afternoon passed in a strange, heavy quiet.I finished every task Mr. Jade had given me with shaking hands. Ethan stayed out of my way, but I felt his eyes on me more than once. Every time our paths crossed in a hallway the air felt thicker. Neither of us spoke about what had happened on the parlor couch or the words his father had left hanging between us.Mrs. Jade called to say she would be home late — a charity dinner that would run past midnight. The message came through Mr. Jade’s phone while we were still in the kitchen. He read it, then looked at me over the rim of his glass.“Upstairs,” he said simply. “My room. Now.”Ethan followed without being told.The master bedroom felt different when I stepped inside this time. Larger. Quieter. The same bed I had watched them on the night before. Mr. Jade closed the door and locked it. The soft click made my stomach twist.He turned to me first.

Nora They stood there waiting. Mr. Jade with his arms loosely crossed, calm as ever. Ethan leaning against the doorframe, jaw tight, eyes locked on me. The parlor felt smaller than it had any right to be. “I asked you a question, Nora,” Mr. Jade said. His voice stayed even, but there was no softness in it. “Choose.” I opened my mouth. Nothing useful came out. The words stuck somewhere behind my teeth. Choosing one meant losing the other. Choosing one meant the rejected man could decide my job (and the roof over my head) no longer existed. Choosing neither felt just as dangerous. Ethan pushed off the doorframe and walked closer. “He’s not going to wait all day. Neither am I.” I took a small step back. My legs hit the edge of the low table. “I… I need time. Please.” Mr. Jade’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’ve had time. You’ve had both of us. You know what each of us feels like. So s

Nora Mrs. Jade announced it at breakfast like it was nothing.“I’ll be gone from Friday to Monday. The charity board has a retreat in the mountains. No signal, no interruptions. You three will have to survive without me.” She laughed softly and reached for her coffee. “Try not to burn the house down.”Mr. Jade nodded once. “We’ll manage.”Ethan didn’t look up from his plate. “Have fun, Mom.”I kept my hands busy with the toast rack so no one would see them shake. Three full days. No Mrs. Jade in the house. No buffer. Just the three of us and the deadline they had already given me.The moment her car left the driveway that afternoon, the air changed.I was in the living room straightening cushions when both men walked in. They didn’t speak to each other. They simply stopped a few feet apart and looked at me.Mr. Jade broke the silence. “It’s tomorrow morning now, Nora. You’ve had your extra day.”Ethan

Hazel I made too much lasagna.That was the excuse I gave myself while I covered the dish with foil and checked my reflection in the hallway mirror for the third time. Hair was fine. The little bit of lip gloss was fine. The white tank top and soft shorts were… maybe a little too much for just walking next door, but it was late and hot and I didn’t feel like changing again.My new neighbor had moved in three days ago. I’d only seen him from my kitchen window — tall, dark hair, always in some grease-stained shirt or tank top, working on that black truck of his until the sun went down. He looked like the kind of man who didn’t do small talk. Still, it felt rude not to at least welcome him. People did that. Normal people brought food.I told myself that’s all this was.The walk between our houses took less than a minute. His porch light was on. The front door was open, only the screen door closed. I could hear the low sound of a television somewhere inside. I shifted the warm dish in my