Chapter 78
Rose
Bella Gia was a visual masterpieceâmodern, sleek, and effortlessly sophisticated. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows framed the bustling city streets, while the restaurant's minimalist yet opulent design exuded an air of exclusivity. The high ceilings were adorned with cascading light fixtures, their soft golden glow reflecting off the polished concrete floors. A sleek, marble-topped bar stretched along one side of the space, where bartenders prepped for the evening rush, arranging top-shelf liquor bottles and polishing crystal glasses until they gleamed.
Of all the high-end restaurants Daniel owned across the globe, this was the one he held closest to his heart. Bella Gia wasn't just a businessâit was a love letter to his wife, every detail meticulously crafted to reflect the warmth and grace Daniel had adored in Gia.
Rose strode through the dining area, weaving past servers as they made final adjustments before the doors officially opened for the night. She didn't need to announce herselfâthe staff knew exactly who she was, offering quick nods of acknowledgment before returning to their tasks.
She made her way to the back, taking the private staircase that led to the upper-level offices. The plush carpeting softened her steps as she reached the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall. Without hesitation, she turned the handle and stepped inside.
Rose lingered in the doorway, her fingers gripping the handle as she took in the sight of her father. For so long, she had seen him as nothing but a force of control in her lifeâunyielding, overbearing, and suffocating in his protectiveness. But now, after everything Luca had told her, she saw him in a different light.
The weight of his past, of his loss, was something she had never fully understood until now. The way he carried himselfâthe straight-backed posture, the ever-cautious gaze that flickered to every detail around him, the careful control over his expressionsâit all made sense. He wasn't just overprotective. He was terrified. Terrified of losing her the way he had lost his family.
Daniel sat behind his sleek black desk, the city skyline sprawling behind him through the glass wall. At the sound of the door, he glanced up, his sharp eyes softening when they landed on her.
"Mia cara," he greeted, setting his pen down and checking his watch. "You're early. Your shift doesn't start until another fourty minutes."
Rose didn't answer right away. Instead, she stepped forward, her throat tightening as she took in the deep lines on his face, the ones she hadn't really noticed before. He looked tired, weighed down by something heavier than the responsibilities of running an empire.
She walked over to him, her heart aching in a way she hadn't expected. And before she could second-guess herself, she leaned down and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace.
Daniel stilled for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection.
"Rose," he began slowly. "What did you do?"
"Nothing!" Rose said, hugging him tighter. "Just let me hug you."
Slowly, Daniel exhaled, his arms coming up to hold her close. His hand rested on the back of her head.
"You love me so much," Rose murmured against his shoulder, realization settling deep in her chest. "Don't you?"
"Of course," Daniel let out a quiet chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "More than you will ever know."
Rose pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her father's gaze. There was a lump in her throat, a mix of guilt and understanding twisting inside her. She had spent so many years pushing against him, fighting his rules, his overprotectivenessânever once stopping to consider why he held on so tightly.
Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "I'm sorry, Dad."
Daniel's brows furrowed slightly before his eyes narrowed. "What is it this time, Rosa?"
"I'm sorry for being such a little shit at times," Rose admitted quietly, her lips pressing together in a tight line. "For always causing trouble. For not listening to you when you were just trying to protect me." She lowered her gaze, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "I didn't understand before. I used to think you just preferred to have a daughter like Lily who didn't cause any trouble." She looked back up at him, determination in her eyes. "But I'll be better from now on. I won't get into any more trouble."
Daniel studied her, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, with an amused sigh, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
"Rose," he said, shaking his head. "You think I want you to change?"
Rose frowned, unsure of where he was going with this. "I just thoughtâ"
"No," Daniel interrupted gently. "You are one of a kind. Stubborn, sharp, passionate. And you are my daughter." He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's my job to protect you from the world. It's not your job to change yourself for it."
Rose felt the weight of his words settle deep in her chest, the warmth of them pushing away the guilt that had been lingering there.
"You mean that?" she asked, her voice smaller than she intended.
Daniel let out a soft chuckle. "Of course I do. You think I'd love you more if you were different? Impossible."
Rose blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in her throat. Then, with a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders.
"Okay," she said. "But still, I'll try not to give you too many heart attacks."
Daniel smirked. "That would be appreciated."
Without another word, she leaned into him again, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered.
Daniel held her close, his voice warm with affection. "And I love you. So much."
Rose held onto her father a little longer, her arms tightening around him as if anchoring herself in the warmth of his presence. She hadn't realized how much she needed thisâjust being with him, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek.
After a moment, she spoke, her voice quieter than before. "I saw Uncle Luca today."
She felt the way Daniel's body tensed ever so slightly, though his arms didn't loosen around her. He exhaled slowly before pulling back just enough to meet her eyes.
"I know," he said, his gaze steady.
Rose blinked, taken aback. "You knew?"
Daniel nodded, studying her expression carefully. "Luca told me he was going to talk to you today."
She frowned slightly. "Oh.."
A ghost of a smile touched Daniel's lips, though there was a shadow in his eyes. "You deserved to know the truth." He brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek. "Even if it wasn't easy to hear."
Rose swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the fabric of his suit. "It wasn't," she admitted. "But I'm glad he told me."
Daniel's jaw tensed for a moment before he nodded, his eyes filled with something she couldn't quite placeâgrief, love, and maybe even a hint of relief. "So am I."
Rose hesitated for a moment before looking up at her father, her voice softer now. "Will you tell me more about Aunt Stella sometime?"
Daniel's expression shifted, his usual composed demeanor cracking just slightly. There was something distant in his gaze, something heavy with memories she had never been privy to. He exhaled slowly, his hand settling gently on her shoulder.
"Of course," he said after a moment, his voice carrying a quiet solemnity. A small, wistful smile ghosted across his lips before fading. "She would have loved you so much."
Rose nodded, sensing the weight of his words. "I want to know her," she murmured. "The way you knew her."
Daniel's hand gave a reassuring squeeze. "Then I'll make sure you do."
After a few more seconds, Rose slowy pulled bacl and gave her father a small but sincere smile.
"Thank you," she said softly, the warmth in her voice unmistakable. "For everything."
Daniel studied her for a moment before nodding, a knowing look in his eyes.
"Always." He leaned back in his chair, the weight of their conversation settling between them.
"I'm going to go get ready," Rose said, taking in a deep breatha nd tucking her hair back.
"Okay," Daniel nodded. "Have a good shift tonight. No funny business."
"No promises," Rose laughed as she turned away.
With that, she turned and left the office, her steps lighter than before. She made her way down the grand staircase, passing the bustling staff as they put the final touches on the restaurant before opening. The soft hum of conversation, the clinking of polished silverware, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air.
In the back, she slipped into the employee locker room, unbuttoning her school uniform and carefully hanging it up before pulling on the crisp white button-down and fitted black slacks of her waitress uniform. She smoothed the fabric over her torso, adjusting the cuffs as she caught her reflection in the mirror.
Tonight felt different. There was a new determination in her, a quiet resolve to be betterânot just for her father, but for herself. She was done causing trouble just to prove she could. Done pushing back against people who only wanted to keep her safe.
With one final glance in the mirror, she tied her apron around her waist, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the restaurant floor, ready to start fresh.
_________________
Mason and Wendy
Mason sat on the edge of his bed, flipping through the photographs he'd taken for Verve, the glossy prints spread out across his lap. Each image captured the energy of New Yorkâthe sleek lines of the cityscape, the chaotic blur of passing taxis, the vibrant glow of neon signs against rain-slicked streets. But no matter how good the shots were, he couldn't focus. His mind kept circling back to Wendy.
She hadn't come with them. She was supposed to, but at the last minute, she'd backed out. And she hadn't texted him since. Not even a half-hearted excuse. Just silence.
Mason exhaled sharply, rubbing his thumb over the edge of a photo. Maybe she really didn't want to be around him. Maybe he was the reason she stayed behind. The thought sat heavy in his chest, a dull ache pressing against his ribs. He swallowed it down and reached for another picture, but before he could look at it, his door swung open.
Lily burst into Mason's room, her face drained of color, eyes wide with panic.
"Mason," she gasped, breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. "We have to go get Wendy."
Mason sat up straight, the photos he had been flipping through scattering to the floor. His pulse quickened, and his heart thudded in his chest. "What? What's wrong?"
"I'll explain on the way," Lily replied, her voice tight with urgency as she spun toward the door. "Come on, hurry!"
Mason groaned in frustration as he grabbed his car keys and jumped up. "What the hell is going on?"
"I called Wendy to see if she wanted to hang out," Lily said, pressing the elevator button over and over, as if her impatience could speed it up. "She's at her parents' place." Her tone was frantic, her expression a mixture of fear and frustration.
"Okay..." Mason's brows furrowed in confusion. "What's the big deal? Did her mom cook something my firecracker didn't want to eat? Why are we gearing up like we're going in as a SWAT team?"
Lily's frustration bubbled over. "Mason," she clicked her tongue in exasperation. "You don't understand."
"Then help me understand!" Mason demanded, stepping into the elevator as it finally arrived.
Lily hesitated before speaking, her words heavy with the weight of something she hadn't wanted to say. "Wendy... her parents... they're not like ours." She paused, her voice shaking. "I heard them fighting earlierâ"
Mason's heart stopped for a moment. "What do you mean? What's going on?" He turned to her, his gaze sharp, desperate for the truth.
Lily's eyes dropped to the floor for a beat, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. "When Wendy's parents fight, it's not just words. It's not normal arguing," she said, the tremor in her voice cutting through the air like a knife. "And when they fight like that, they pull her in. They drag her into it, and I don't... I don't want her to be caught in the middle again..." She trailed off, her voice breaking with the unsaid.
Mason's chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat as the gravity of Lily's words sank in. He saw the raw worry etched on her face, the fear that Wendy might be right now somewhere, helpless.
"Has this happened before?" Mason asked, his voice low and tight.
Lily nodded, her eyes brimming with concern. "Many times..." She didn't need to say more; the pain was already written in her eyes.
The elevator arrived to the main floor and the doors slid open. Mason and Lily ran out to his car and climbed in. The engine roared to life as Lily buckled in her seatbelt and put Wendy's parent's address into the GPS.
Mason's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as they pulled out from their parking spot, the streetlights blurring past as they zipped out into the street. His stomach churned with a growing sense of unease, his mind racing with questions. Lily's words echoed in his ears, but he couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief.
How bad could an argument between parents really be? Sure, parents foughtâall parents did, but it was nothing like what Lily was suggesting. Normal arguments, with raised voices and slammed doors, sure. But Lily's panic, her desperate insistence that Wendy was in danger, felt like an overreaction. He glanced at her in the passenger seat, her face still pale, her hands twisted in her lap.
He tried to focus on the road, but his mind kept returning to her words. "It's not just words. It's not normal arguing..."
Mason frowned, frustration starting to creep in. Maybe his sister was just too sensitive. Wendy was tough, right? She could handle a shouting match between her parents. Everyone's parents argued. That was just how things worked. But Lily had been so frantic.
He swallowed hard, trying to push the anxiety away. The faster they got to Wendy's, the sooner he'd find out what was really happening. Maybe he was just overthinking it. Maybe Wendy and her parents were fine.
But deep down, that gnawing worry wouldn't let up. What if Lily was right? What if it was worse than anything he could imagine? He glanced at the rearview mirror, his hands tightening even further on the wheel.
"Come on, Lily," he muttered under his breath. "What the hell are we walking into here?"
Lily's gaze was distant, lost in something Mason couldn't fully grasp. Her hands were trembling in her lap, and he could see the faintest sheen of tears in her eyes as she stared at the ground, her brow furrowed with anxiety.
Mason's heart tightened at the sight. Seeing her so panicked, so clearly shaken, made his own worry multiply tenfold. This was his sisterâthe sight of her in such a fragile state pushed his anxiety into overdrive.
He reached over, his fingers brushing hers in a silent attempt to offer some comfort. "Lily," he said softly, his voice low and steady despite the tension coiling in his chest. "Tell me what's really going on."
But Lily just shook her head, eyes still fixed on the passing road. "I... I don't know," she whispered. "But I know Wendy needs us right now."
Before Mason could respond, the sleek curve of Wendy's parents' grand driveway appeared ahead of them, the tall iron gates looming in the distance. As the car rolled up the long, winding path, the sprawling estate came into viewâelegant, cold, and imposing. The house itself stood like a fortress, with large windows glowing faintly in the dark.
Mason pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching over the gravel, and threw the car into park.
The silence between them was heavy, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The tension in the air seemed to settle on their shoulders like a physical weight.
Lily blinked rapidly, her eyes wet with the tears she hadn't allowed to fall yet. She finally looked at her brother, her expression a mixture of worry and fear that made Mason's stomach churn.
"We need to get inside," she said, her voice trembling.
Without another word, they both stepped out of the car, the cool night air hitting their skin.
Mason and Lily moved slowly toward the front door, the gravel beneath their feet crunching with each step. The massive house loomed over them, the windows dark and imposing. Every step felt heavier than the last as Mason tried to brace himself for whatever awaited them inside. But as they neared the door, the sharp, unmistakable sound of Wendy's scream cut through the still night air, slicing the tension in the air like a knife.
Lily's body went rigid for a split second before her face twisted into pure panic. Without hesitation, her feet launched her into a full sprint toward the house.
"Wendy!" she called out, her voice ragged with fear as she raced across the driveway, her breath coming in quick bursts. Mason hesitated for just a moment, his stomach dropping, before he followed her, the urgency in his steps matching hers. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing, trying to process what could have just happened.
The front door slammed open as they reached it, and they surged into the house, the cold air of the foyer biting at their skin. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hallway as they pushed forward, the house feeling too silent, too empty.
Lily's eyes were wide, her face pale as she scanned every corner of the house, searching for Wendy. She didn't pause for a moment, her feet carrying her through the darkened halls, each step faster than the last.
The sound of shattered glass reached them firstâcrunching against the floor like a terrible warning. Mason's heart raced as they rounded the corner into the kitchen. The room was a mess, a trail of broken plates and cups leading to the center, where Wendy sat on the floor, shaking, her hands pressed against the marble floors, her eyes wide with terror.
Mason's breath hitched as he took in the scene. Broken shards of porcelain glittered like deadly confetti around Wendy's feet, the kitchen, once neat, now chaos. The air was thick with the remnants of an argument, the atmosphere still crackling with tension.
The tension in the air was suffocating as Mason and Lily stood frozen, taking in the horrific scene before them. The sight of Wendy's father, Tom, towering over her with a fury in his eyes made Mason's blood run cold. His large, unsteady hands gripped Wendy's face with a violent force, his fingers digging into her skin as he slurred curses through clenched teeth. The stench of alcohol on him was overwhelming, and his words were barely comprehensible, drenched in rage and confusion.
Wendy's face was pale, her body tense, but she didn't resistâtoo stunned by the sheer aggression radiating from Tom. Mason could see the way her eyes flinched with every yell, but she stayed silent, too scared to fight back.
Wendy's eyes were wide with terror, her body rigid as if locked in place by an invisible force. She didn't move, didn't speak, as if the terror of the moment had paralyzed her completely.
In the far corner of the room, Wendy's mother, Amanda, sat on the floor, her face streaked with tears. She cradled her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably as if the weight of everything was too much to bear. The whole scene was like a nightmare, a grotesque reality that Mason couldn't believe was unfolding in front of him.
Tom's voice boomed through the room, his words raw and venomous. "You poisoned her against me, didn't you?" He yelled at Wendy, his breath ragged, his face twisted in fury. "You ruined everything! This is your fault!"
That was all it took for Mason. An uncontrollable heat surged through him, his pulse pounding in his ears as anger and fear collided in a wild rush. He couldn't stand seeing Wendy treated like this. Without thinking, he stormed forward, his voice loud and filled with outrage.
"Hey!" Mason's voice was like a whip crack in the air. "Take your hands off of her!"
His words were sharp, filled with a kind of raw fury that startled even him. He couldn't fathom what kind of man would lay a hand on his daughter like that. Tom turned toward him with a drunken, unfocused sneer, his grip still tight on Wendy's face. His bloodshot eyes were clouded, but the anger in them was all too clear.
The moment Mason reached Wendy, the intensity of the scene hit him like a punch to the gut. He didn't hesitateâhis hand shot out to shove Tom back, the force of it knocking the man off balance. Tom staggered a step backward, drunken rage flashing in his eyes as he stumbled to regain his footing.
Mason's eyes were filled with fury, his breath ragged. He didn't wait for Tom to react. His hands shot out, grabbing Wendy's arms, pulling her to her feet.
But the second his fingers wrapped around her, Mason froze. A sharp, metallic feeling hit him as he felt something foreign under his touch. His eyes dropped to Wendy's palms, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was there.
Broken shards of glassâglittering pieces of porcelainâstuck deep into Wendy's delicate skin. Blood dripped slowly from her palms, staining the shards and making Mason's stomach churn with a visceral anger he could barely contain. The sight made him feel sick to his core, knowing what had happened to her.
Mason's heart pounded in his chest, and for a second, he couldn't think straight. His fury flared, and his hands instinctively moved to pull Wendy away, wanting nothing more than to get her the hell out of there.
"We're getting you out of here," he said, his voice tight with the effort to stay calm, to not lose control. "Lily, go start the car."
But as he tried to move her toward the door, Wendy stopped, her feet planted on the ground. Her face crumpled, tears spilling from her eyes as she trembled. Her voice cracked, hoarse and desperate, as she cried.
"Mom..." she began to sob like a little child. "I can't......my mom.....I can't leave her. Please... don't make me leave her."
Mason's breath hitched. The pleading in Wendy's voice sent a sharp pain through him. He felt the pull of her griefâthe pull of her love for her motherâand for a moment, he hesitated. The shattered porcelain that littered the kitchen floor reflected the chaos, the brokenness of the moment. The room, once so clean and ordered, now felt like a battlefield. And Wendy was caught in the middle of it all.
Mason's pulse raced. He wanted to protect Wendy, to take her out of that house and away from everything that had just happened. But seeing her so broken, so terrified, and hearing her cry out for her motherâhis heart ached for her. He understood the weight of that bond, the desperation she felt.
"I know, I know," he whispered softly, squeezing her arms gently to try and calm her. His eyes flickered toward Amanda in the corner, sobbing in agony, her brokenness like a silent echo of her daughter's.
But the sounds of Tom's drunken slurs broke through the heavy silence. "Who the hell do you think you are, huh?" he yelled at Mason, his voice raw with anger, trying to stand tall despite his staggering. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Mason didn't respond to him. His gaze remained fixed on Wendy, watching her, feeling her pain, and wishing with everything in him that he could erase it. He took a deep breath, squeezing her arms again, grounding her, trying to offer her the strength she didn't have.
"We're getting out of here. Right now," Mason said firmly, his voice full of conviction.
But Wendy only shook her head, her body trembling with each sob, her gaze locked on her mother.
Mason's chest tightened as he realized the complexity of what they were facing. Wendy wasn't going to leave without her mother.
Mason's heart hammered in his chest as he looked down at Wendy, her body trembling in his grip, her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto her mother. He could see the desperation in her. Wendy's sobs rang in his ears, raw and painful, and it made Mason's chest tighten with a pain he couldn't escape.
"I can't leave her," Wendy whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, Mason... I can't..."
Mason closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the wave of helplessness that threatened to consume him. He could feel the weight of the situationâthe terror in Wendy's voice, the utter destruction around them.
His gaze flickered back to Amanda, crumpled in the corner. This wasn't just about getting Wendy outâit was about getting her mother out too.
"We'll come back for her, Wendy," Mason said, his voice firm, though his heart was breaking for her. "But you need to get upstairs, alright? I need you to stay safe." His voice softened as he spoke, understanding the difficulty of what he was asking. "Lily's with you, okay?"
He turned to his sister, his eyes pleading for her to understand. "Take Wendy upstairs. Get her out of here."
Lily nodded, her expression tight with worry, but she didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, wrapping her arm around Wendy's shoulders, guiding her gently, trying to soothe her as they moved toward the stairs.
Mason watched them for a second, his heart aching, before he turned back to face the storm in the kitchen. Tom, still swaying and slurring his words, was glaring at Mason like he was an enemy.
"What the hell are you doing?" Tom spat, his face twisted in anger. "Who are the hell are youâ"
Mason didn't wait for him to finish. His hand shot out, grabbing Tom's arm with a firm grip. "Get out of the kitchen," Mason said, his voice low and controlled but laced with fury. "You're done here."
Tom staggered back, taken off guard by the sudden force. He tried to push back against Mason's hold, but he wasn't strong enough. His bloodshot eyes flared with rage, but Mason wasn't backing down.
"I'm calling the cops," Mason said coldly, reaching for his phone. "You're done. This has gone far enough."
Tom shouted something unintelligible in protest, but Mason was already pressing the numbers on his phone, his finger trembling with rage as he spoke to the dispatcher.
"This is Mason Silvano. I'm at 2133 Green Hill Rive. The owner of the house, Mr. Tom Barington is drunk and violent. He just assaulted his daughter. I need officers here, now," Mason said, his voice tight with emotion. "Send someone to take him away before he hurts anyone else."
Mason patiently listened to the dispatcher before hanging up. As he put his phone away, his eyes never left Tom's. The room felt suffocating, the tension thick and dangerous, but Mason knew he couldn't back down. Not with Wendy in the other room, terrified and broken. Not with Amanda, still sobbing on the floor.
"Sit down, Mr. Barington," Mason said, his voice low and commanding. "No more trouble tonight."
Tom's head whipped toward the stairs, his bloodshot eyes searching for Wendy, as if the threat to her wasn't enough.
Mason moved without hesitation, stepping forward and placing his hand firmly against Tom's chest, his touch cold and resolute.
"You're not going anywhere near her," Mason said, his words firm with authority. Every ounce of his being told him that this was the lineâif he didn't stand his ground now, nothing would stop Tom from doing it again.
Tom snarled at Mason, his face twisting in rage. He shoved himself forward, the alcohol fueling his aggression as he tried to push past Mason, desperate to reach the stairs, to find Wendy. His unsteady movements only made him more dangerous, and Mason's patience wore thin.
Before Tom could take another step, Mason shoved him back with a force that surprised even him. The sheer power of the push sent Tom stumbling backward, crashing into the doorway. Mason didn't give him a moment to recover; he stepped forward, his body a solid wall, keeping Tom from making any more moves.
"Stay down, Tom," Mason growled, his voice a deep warning.
But Tom, barely able to keep his balance, roared in defiance, swinging a wild, drunken fist at Mason. Mason easily dodged the swing and grabbed Tom by the collar, pushing him once again, this time with more force, until Tom was outside, tumbling onto the driveway.
The cool night air hit Tom's face as he hit the ground with a grunt. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Mason was already there, towering over him, making it clear that he wouldn't let this escalate any further.
Tom's chest heaved with ragged breaths, his eyes wild with fury and confusion, but Mason wasn't fazed. He watched Tom struggle, his gaze unwavering as he heard the unmistakable sound of sirens growing louder, the flashing lights bathing the driveway in an eerie glow.
"Stay the hell down," Mason said, his voice cutting through the chaos. He stepped back just as the first police car skidded to a stop in the driveway, the officers quickly rushing toward them.
Tom's mouth ran a mile a minute, shouting incoherently, but his voice faltered when the officers surrounded him, their hands firm on his arms.
"Mr. Barington, come down sir," one of the officers said, snapping handcuffs onto Tom's wrists with a practiced motion. "How much did you have to drink tonight, sir?"
Tom tried to resist, but the officers had him pinned, and Mason stood back, his chest still tight with anger. He watched as they guided Tom away, his presence there, his refusal to let the man near Wendy, making sure this nightmare was finally over.
As Tom was led to the police car, Mason turned and walked back into the house, his heart still heavy but relieved to know Wendy was safe.
As Mason stepped back into the house, he was immediately followed by a woman officer, her presence calm and authoritative in the wake of the chaos. Her uniform was neat, her eyes sharp and observant as she scanned the room, taking in the broken porcelain and the devastation left behind by Tom's outburst.
She looked at Mason, her expression firm but understanding. "We need to check on the victim," she said, her voice soft but direct, the weight of the situation clear in her words.
Mason nodded without a word, leading the way toward, his heart heavy with the hope that everything was going to be okay.
But as they approached, his breath hitched in disbelief. The woman who had been a sobbing wreck moments ago was now sitting up straight, her posture suddenly rigid as if she had shaken off all the tension. The tears that had streaked her face were gone, replaced by an unsettling calmness that sent a chill down Mason's spine.
She stood as soon as she saw them, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, her hands steady as if she'd suddenly snapped into a different reality.
"Mrs. Barington," the officer said. "Are you alright, ma'am?"
Mason's stomach twisted as he watched Amanda stand, her movements deliberate and stiff, like a puppet controlled by invisible strings. The shift was so sudden, so unnatural, that it made his head spin. Just moments ago, she had been crumpled on the floor, her grief raw and palpable. Now, she stood as if nothing had happenedâlike the wreckage around her wasn't real.
Amanda looked at the officer, her face smooth and composed, her eyes a little too wide, a little too cold. She nodded, though the gesture felt mechanical.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice flat, lacking the tremor that had shaken it earlier. "Everything's fine. There's no need for all this trouble."
The officer seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she observed Amanda more closely. She took a small step forward, her voice cautious.
"Mrs. Barington, we need to make sure you're alright. You were upset just a moment agoâ"
Amanda's smile was tight, the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "I was upset, yes, but I'm fine now. Really. It was all just a misunderstanding. My husband didn't mean to cause any harm. You don't need to make a bigger deal out of this."
Mason's jaw clenched, disbelief washing over him. He glanced at the officer, his eyes searching for some sign that this wasn't happeningâthat the woman standing before him wasn't the same person who had been sobbing, pleading for help. But there was no denying it. The woman he had witnessed in pain had vanished, replaced by someone else entirely.
The officer's gaze flickered to Mason, a brief flash of confusion crossing her face. She wasn't sure what to make of Amanda's sudden transformation either, but she continued, her voice gentle but insistent.
"Ma'am, we're here to help. Your daughterâWendyâwas clearly frightened. We saw the damage in the kitchen. It's important that you tell us the truth."
Amanda blinked, as if she was trying to process the words, but then her expression hardened, her lips pressed into a thin line. She turned her back slightly to the officer, her focus shifting to Mason, and for a brief moment, the coldness in her gaze felt like a slap.
"I don't know who you are," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "But I don't need your help. This isn't your business." Her eyes flicked to the officer again, this time with an edge of command. "My husband didn't hurt anyone. He's just stressed. You have no reason to be here."
Mason's heart sank. The weight of her words, the rejection, hit him harder than he expected. "You don't get to pretend like this didn't just happen," he said, his voice raw with anger and confusion. "Your daughter is terrified. Your husbandâTomâhe's not a good man. This is more than stress. You're protecting him, but you don't have to."
Amanda didn't flinch at his words. Instead, she stood taller, her posture stiffening even more. "You don't know anything about us," she said, her tone biting. "Leave. Now."
The officer exchanged another glance with Mason, this one filled with concern. "Ma'am, we need to make sure you're okay. There's evidence of violence here."
Amanda's gaze flickered briefly to the shattered porcelain on the floor, but she quickly looked away. "It's nothing," she said quickly. "Just an accident. Nothing more."
Mason's chest tightened as the realization hit him. Amanda wasn't going to be the person he thought she was. She wasn't going to step up, admit the truth, or protect her daughter. She had already chosen where her loyalty lay, and it wasn't with Wendy. His blood ran cold as he stood there, helpless.
The officer seemed to sense the shift, and her voice grew firmer. "We're going to need to take your statement, ma'am. If there's been an assault, we have to proceed accordingly."
Amanda's expression remained unchanged, as if she had already steeled herself for this moment. "I have nothing to say," she replied, her voice icy. "My husband isn't going anywhere, and neither are you."
Mason's hands balled into fists at his sides, frustration boiling inside him. The woman standing before him, the one who had been so vulnerable just minutes ago, now stood in stark contrast to everything he had hoped for. She had become a stranger, someone he could no longer reach.
"Wendy deserves better than this," he muttered under his breath, the words just loud enough for Amanda to hear.
Amanda didn't respond. She simply turned her back on him, walking to the other side of the room.
"Please take those handcuffs off my husband," she said to the officer. "This is all just a huge misunderstanding."
Mason's chest tightened with anger as he followed the officers outside and watched them reluctantly remove the handcuffs from Tom, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. The weight of Amanda's words, her refusal to acknowledge the truth, gnawed at Mason like an insidious force.
As Tom stumbled toward the door, mouthing curses, Mason's patience snapped. His fist clenched so tightly it was almost painful. He couldn't just stand here any longer. He couldn't let Wendy stay in this house, under this roof, with these people. Not after everything he had just witnessed. Not after seeing her so broken.
He turned on his heel and moved swiftly toward the stairs, his feet heavy with determination. He needed to get to Wendy. He needed to get her out of here, before Tom had another chance to do something worse.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he hurried down the hall until he found Wendy's room.
Inside, Wendy sat on the bed, her posture stiff and fragile as if she were trying to hold herself together, the shock from the night still hanging heavy in the air. Her hands were curled into fists, the skin pale and scratched in places, with pieces of shattered glass embedded in her palms. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were distant, far away from the world around her.
Kneeling in front of her, Lily was focused on Wendy's hands, her expression intense with concentration. She carefully held a pair of tweezers, gently pulling glass shard after glass shard from Wendy's skin, her movements precise and methodical. Despite the tension in the room, there was a quiet tenderness in the way Lily treated Wendyâsoothing her in silence, the two of them lost in a rhythm of care that spoke volumes of their bond.
Mason's breath caught in his throat at the sight, the image of his two favorite girls so vulnerable in the aftermath of the chaos. His mind struggled to process it all. He had never seen Lily like thisâ a quiet, worried protector, giving Wendy the attention she desperately needed. He could tell by the way her hands shook slightly, how carefully she handled the tweezers, that she wasn't just removing glassâshe was trying to help Wendy heal, to make things feel right again.
Mason stood frozen for a moment, his heart heavy with the realization that the night had shattered something far deeper than glass. He could feel his frustration rising, but at the same time, there was an overwhelming sense of guiltâguilt that he hadn't been there sooner, that he hadn't been able to protect Wendy from the pain she was so clearly carrying.
He took a deep breath, stepping into the room, his presence breaking the quiet tension.
"We have to leave," Mason said, his voice low but urgent. His words hung in the air, sharp and commanding, though he could see Wendy's immediate resistance in the way her shoulders tensed.
"No," Wendy whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't just leave. Iâ"
Mason didn't give her a chance to finish. His frustration boiled over as he crossed the room in two quick strides. He bent down and, without a word, scooped Wendy up in his arms. She gasped, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest, but Mason didn't give her the time to protest further.
"I'm not asking," he said, his tone unyielding as he carried her toward the stairs. "We're leaving now."
Lily stood up quickly, her face pale with worry, but she didn't hesitate.
"Do you know if there is a back door?" Mason asked his sister.
Lily nodded, "Follow me." Her voice was steady despite the chaos unfolding. She led the way down the narrow hall toward the rear of the house, her eyes darting nervously between the two of them.
Mason, his arms tight around Wendy, followed close behind, determined to get her out before Tom could make his way back inside. The weight of his own anger, mixed with a fierce protective instinct, kept his steps steady and sure.
Once outside, the cold night air hit them, and Mason felt his pulse quicken, his body tense. He didn't stop to think about anything except getting Wendy as far away from here as possible. He helped Lily get Wendy into the car, and as the engine roared to life, Mason's grip on the steering wheel tightened. He could still hear Tom's voice echoing in his mindâloud, taunting, and far too close for comfort.
But as they drove off into the night, Mason's anger simmered beneath the surface. It wasn't over. It wasn't nearly over.
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