Dad wasn’t buying it. He positioned himself between us in one sharp, protective motion. I saw the muscles in his jaw clench. He’d suspected for a while—I heard it in his questions, saw it in his worried glances during weekend dinners. But suspicion was one thing. Seeing the truth was another.
Shame burned through me, even though I had no reason to feel any. “Dad… I’m okay,” I whispered, though we both knew I wasn’t.
“You don’t have to protect him,” he said, eyes still fixed on Brian.
Brian scoffed. “She’s exaggerating. Families argue. You can’t just barge—”
Dad cut him off. “Take one step closer, and I’ll call the police myself.”
Brian hesitated—and that hesitation was the first honest thing he’d shown all night. He wasn’t used to being challenged. He wasn’t used to losing control.
Lucas squeezed my hand tighter. Dad glanced at him, and something inside my father cracked.
“You scared my grandson. You hurt my daughter. This ends now.”
For a moment, I thought Brian would explode—shout, lash out, escalate. But something else crossed his face: calculation, maybe fear. He grabbed his keys and stormed out the back door, cursing as he disappeared.