My heartbeat pulsed in my ears.
“You’re living off me, eating for free, and didn’t even bother to get me a gift,” he added, taking a sip of his drink like he was proud of it. “You’re not even pregnant. It’s like you don’t even want a baby.”
My arms ached. My face flushed, prickling with heat. I glanced around and caught fleeting expressions, confusion, discomfort, and pity.
My throat tightened.
My thoughts scattered. I opened my mouth, but the words didn’t come.
Then I heard it, my father clearing his throat. It was a familiar sound, one I’d grown up hearing.
But tonight, it carried weight and intention.
“Aidan, you’re right,” he said.
I turned to my father, stunned. My stomach twisted. He wasn’t an emotional man.
He was quiet, reserved, and rarely confrontational. But the way he looked at Aidan then, there was something sharp behind his eyes.
“Instead of keeping her job and finding a man who respects her, Lacey chose someone like you. And now, here she is, living off you.
Just like you wanted.”
The breath caught in my throat. Aidan’s smirk faltered. The room shifted around us, suddenly unstable, like the floor had tilted and no one was sure how to stand.
“That’s not all,” my mother leaned forward, her voice slicing through the tension.
Aidan blinked, visibly thrown by her sudden sharpness.
“She made all this food,” my mother said, gesturing toward the long, candle-lit table.
“She cleaned every corner of this house, handled every detail. Who do you think did that, Aidan? It wasn’t elves.”
