Chapter 8 SHE WOULDN'T LET THEM SEE HER BREAK

Chapter 8

Mia stepped into the living room, the faint click of her heels against the marble floor announcing her arrival. Her gaze swept across the space, cold and assessing, before landing on the woman lounging on the couch. Mia's eyebrows lifted slightly, but her confidence didn't waver. This woman was going to be trouble, that, she knew for sure.

The woman didn't belong here. That much was obvious too. Her dad doesn't bring guest home, except it was for business. But this lady was dressed like she had just walked off the set of some over-the-top fashion shoot, her glittering gown clinging to every curve, leaving very little to the imagination. She didn't flinch under Mia's scrutiny; instead, she sat like she owned the place, one leg crossed, her fingers lazily tracing the rim of her wine glass.

Mia didn't bother with pleasantries. "Who the hell are you?" she said sharply, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. She didn't wait for the woman to look up. "And what are you doing in my house?"

The woman glanced up briefly, her lips curving into a slow, smug smirk. She didn't answer, didn't even bother to acknowledge the question. Instead, she turned her attention back to her glass, lifting it delicately before taking a slow sip, savoring it as though Mia wasn't standing right in front of her.

Mia took a step closer, her presence commanding. She tilted her head slightly, her tone colder now. "I asked you a question. I don't like being ignored."

The woman met her gaze this time, but the amusement in her eyes only seemed to deepen. "You must be Mia," she said smoothly, her voice dripping with mock curiosity. "I've heard so much about you."

Mia stiffened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She didn't respond immediately, but her mind raced, piecing together what she didn't want to admit. This woman wasn't here by accident. She wasn't some stranger who'd wandered in. Mia didn't want to believe it, didn't want to let the suspicion take root, but the facts were staring her in the face.

Her father wouldn't do something like this. He couldn't. Could he?

The woman tilted her head, her smirk widening slightly as though she could see the doubt creeping through Mia's expression. "It's good to finally meet you," she said, her tone smooth, condescending even. "I think we're going to get along just fine."

Mia's pulse quickened, her frustration bubbling over. She stepped forward, her voice unwavering. "I don't know who you think you are or why you're here, but you're not staying. So finish your drink and get the hell out."

"Mom?" Ethan's voice broke the tension as he walked into the living room. His footsteps faltered when he spotted Mia standing there. His expression shifted awkwardly, a mix of guilt and unease creeping across his face.

"Mia, you're here," he said, scratching the back of his head like a child caught sneaking meat from the pot of hot stew. His tone carried a forced cheerfulness that only irritated Mia more.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, her disgust evident. "Oh, I see," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and your mother finally found the guts to move in."

Ethan winced, his discomfort clear as he struggled to form a coherent response. "It's not what you think," he said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Father was the one who insisted we spend the night here."

Mia scoffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The tension in the room was suffocating. "Of course he did," she muttered under her breath, her words biting. She glanced back at the woman on the couch, who still sat there with an air of infuriating calm. The glittering dress, the smug smirk, it all screamed arrogance and audacity.

Her chest tightened, the ache spreading as her thoughts spiraled. How could her father do this? Bring his mistress into their home, the same house he had shared with her late mother? It was disrespectful. No, it was disgusting. Did he ever even love her mother? Because if he had, he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't tarnish her memory so shamelessly.

Ethan shifted on his feet, his nervous energy filling the space. "Mia, I....." he started, but she cut him off with a sharp look, and I palm raised high above her head.

"Save it," she snapped, her voice colder now. Her gaze flicked back to the woman. "And you. Sitting here like this is normal, like you belong here." She shook her head, her voice laced with venom. "You must be proud of yourself."

The woman finally looked up, her smirk widening as she met Mia's glare. "Oh, darling," she said smoothly, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"Mom, can you please stop it." Ethan said with a pleading voice.

Mia's jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. The audacity of this woman was infuriating. But Mia refused to let her see how much it hurt. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Straightening her shoulders, she tilted her chin up, her confidence unwavering.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Mia said sharply, her voice cutting through the room like glass. "Because nothing about this is permanent."

The woman chuckled softly, the sound grating on Mia's nerves. "We'll see about that," she replied, her tone light but pointed.

Mia turned on her heel, not sparing either of them another glance as she strode toward the stairs. Her steps were firm, deliberate, each one fueled by the simmering anger and betrayal coursing through her veins. She wouldn't let them see her break. Not now, not ever.

Before getting to her room, she saw one of their help. When she asked about her father, she was told he was out. She nodded before walking to her room to meet another shock. The door was ajar, and as she pushed it open, her breath caught.