Page 43 of Picture Perfect

She nods.

"Promise?" I ask, desperate for reassurance. I cup her cheek, running a thumb across her delicate cheekbone. Her hair feels like silk over my rough fingers.

I want to grab it. I want to kiss her, taste Dre on her lips. But I can't. Not now. As she leans her cheek into my palm, I almost lose my resolve.

"Promise," she replies softly, mustering a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. With one last look at our concerned faces, she steps over Gen and out into the cool night air, heading towards the front door.

Once inside, she sends the promised text and we pull away.

"Rhett, we can't just leave her there," Gen's voice cuts through the silence. Her tone is laced with concern.

"She'll be fine, Gen," Saint replies, but there's an edge to his voice that wasn't there before.

"Fine? With Preston lurking around? You know what he's capable of." There's a pause, and I imagine Gen's fingers tapping anxiously against her leg.

"Gen's right," Dre's voice cuts in, startling me. Dre rarely speaks up, but when he does, it's with purpose. "We should've dealt with him... permanently. He fucking hit her. Damaged my snowflake."

"Enough," Saint snaps, but his authority wavers. Maybe it's the weight of their argument or the unspoken bond we all share, but after a moment, he relents. "Okay. We'll keep an eye on her. Happy?"

No. But, it was better than nothing.

Chapter twenty

Addy

The moment my foot crosses the threshold, a shiver of unease snakes up my spine. The house is too still, the air too charged. I slip my phone from my pocket and fire off a quick text to Gen, my thumbs flying over the screen with practiced ease.

Safely inside, thanks for everything.

-A

Barely have I hit send when I lift my gaze and freeze. Cheryl and William are perched on the edge of the living room sofa like twin statues carved from ice, their expressions so livid it's almost palpable. Wesley leans against the wall, arms folded, his sneer as sharp as a blade.

"Adelaide," Cheryl begins, her voice a hiss of disapproval.

"Home at last," William adds, each word weighed down with cold fury.

"Mother, Father," I say, keeping my voice level. My heart thunders in my chest, but I will not let them see how they make me quake inside. "Wesley." I nod to my adoptive brother, offering him a tight smile that doesn't reach my eyes.

"Where have you been?" Wesley asks, his tone laced with mockery.

"Out with friends," I reply simply, shrugging off my coat and hanging it with deliberate slowness. The fabric brushes against my skin, a whisper-soft touch compared to the sting of their stares.

"Care to elaborate?" William's voice is sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. “Because, last I checked you were told to come straight home. No socializing.”

"Does it matter?" I challenge, meeting his gaze head-on. I learned long ago that showing weakness only invites more attacks. They can't know about the silent screams that echo in my mind, or the way my soul feels tattered at the edges.

Of course, compliance is a big part of this. And, usually I know how to ride the line perfectly. But I can't seem to muster up the energy to play dress up right now.

"Of course, it matters," Cheryl says, rising to her feet. Her movements are graceful, yet there's a rigidity to her posture that tells of barely restrained anger.

"Everything you do reflects on this family," William adds, standing beside her. They're a united front, always.

"Then perhaps I'm just reflecting what I've learned," I retort, my voice cool as frost. I won't let them see the pain; I'll hide it beneath layers of indifference. Wesley scoffs, and I ignore him, focusing instead on maintaining my composure.

I've always played the doting and dutiful daughter. I just don't have it in me today, not after everything I've been through in the last 24 hours.

"Enough," snaps William, and for a moment, the room seems to shrink, the walls pressing in. "We expect better from you."

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