He doesn’t flinch, but there’s something in his eyes, a flicker of guilt that tells me he knows where this is going too.
He lifts his hands slightly, trying to keep things calm as Richard takes a step closer.
“Whatever it is, it’s not what you think,” Dean says carefully.
“Oh really,” Richard fires back. The emotion in his voice fractures, rage splintering into grief, grief curdling back into rage again. “Because what I think,Dean, is that the men I trusted took advantage of my daughter. Tell me that’s not what happened.”
I swallow hard, my heart stammering against my ribs.
The suite seems to shrink, the walls bending in under the weight of his accusation.
Richard’s chest heaves, his hands white-knuckled and balled into fists at his sides.
He’s not shaking from the cold, he’s shaking from restraint.
From holding himself back from the absolute, raw animal need to unload whatever pain is burning behind those eyes of his onto us.
“Jesus. You don’t really believe that,” Grant says.
Richard whips toward him, eyes burning. “She told me.Everything.”
Richard advances again, forcing Dean to plant his hands flat to his chest.
It isn’t hard enough to shove him back, but enough to stop him from closing the last inches and crush him against the wall.
“Stop,” he warns.
“All these years. All this time…how fucking long have you all been looking at my daughter like that? How long has this been going on?” His voice breaks on the last word, ragged with hurt and betrayal.
“Enough!” I snap, louder than I mean to, but if I don’t say it no one will. “No one took advantage of anyone. We all need to calm down.”
He turns on me then, hurt and accusation folded into a look that slices right through me. “Don’t lie to me!”
God, this cannot be happening.
My brain scrambles, reaching for anything that might diffuse this explosion before it destroys everything, but there’s nothing.
There are no words, no quick fixes, no half-truths smooth over the sharp edges of this moment as they cut through all of us like fractured pieces of glass.
The only thing clear and undeniable is the cold, merciless certainty that Noelle must have told him this morning.
That’s the only thing that makes sense.
Why else would he storm over here during a damn snowstorm, boots still dripping and eyes wild ready to beat us all for touching his daughter?
Something pushed her to speak the truth. Something worse than fear, worse than the silence that’s caged her for years.
Maybe guilt?
Maybe desperation.
Or maybe she thought telling him would finally bring relief.
But relief isn’t what this is.
This is complete fallout.
If she told him, there’s no walking this back.
