The car ride home is silent in the way storms are silent—all charged air and waiting violence.
City lights streak across the windows as Noah drives, jaw locked so tight the muscle ticks. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, the leather groaning under the pressure of his grip. The engine hums low, smooth, expensive, but the tension in the car is anything but polished.
I stare out at the blur of buildings, trying to breathe, trying not to think of the mirror, of Kai’s voice curling around my ear like smoke.
Noah finally speaks. “Don’t say a word,” he bites out.
I wasn’t planning to.
He slams the indicator on, turning too sharply into our street, tyres whispering against asphalt. The house looms ahead, all glass and clean lines and curated perfection—a museum where feelings go to die.
As soon as the car stops, Noah’s out, door slamming with a force that makes the windows tremble. I follow slower, the coldair hitting my skin like punishment, heels clicking sharply on the stone path as I trail him into the house.
The door shuts behind us with a heavy finality.
Noah spins.
“You think you can humiliate me in front of donors?”
His voice is low. Controlled. But his eyes are wildfire.
“You raised your voice at me,” I snap back.
“You provoked me.”
“You embarrassed yourself.”
His nostrils flare. “Say that again.”
I do.
“You. Embarrassed. Yourself.”
He steps forward so fast I stumble back, my shoulder hitting the wall. His palm lands beside my head, caging me in, breath brushing my cheek, hot and furious.
“I am the only man keeping your life together,” Noah growls. “Do you understand that?”
“My life is fine,” I lie.
His laugh is sharp, humourless. “You can’t even keep your hands steady. I watched you all night—flinching at shadows, searching the room like prey.”
“I told you I’m fine?—”
“Stop.”
He pins me with his stare.
“Don’t say that to me again.”
My pulse pounds in my throat.
“You don’t get to dictate how I feel,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You don’t get to drag ghosts into this house,” he fires back.
Something cracks in me.
“You want the truth?” I whisper. “You want honesty? I’m here. I come home every night. I sleep in your bed. I wear your fucking ring. Isn’t that enough for you?”
