Chapter 4 She Taught Me to Stay Quiet, He Made Me Want to Scream

Tessa was eight the first time she stepped into the Cross house.

She remembers the marble floors-how her little school shoes echoed across them like they didn't belong there, like even the tile itself resented her presence. She remembers her mother's hand gripping hers too tightly as they entered, like she already knew this wasn't a place for girls like Tessa to breathe too loud.

And she remembers Evelyn Cross-tall, icy, beautiful in that expensive, breakable way-smiling just a little too much as she said,

"Please tell your daughter not to touch anything."

Her mother, Celia Blake, nodded without hesitation.

Like she'd swallowed those words before.

Like she knew how to make herself small enough to survive.

Tessa hadn't spoken the whole time.

Her mother cleaned for the Cross family on weekends-parties, events, messes that looked glamorous until you were the one scrubbing red wine out of rugs and rearranging furniture so no one noticed how much had broken.

Usually, she leaves Tessa home.

But that day the sitter cancelled, and the rent was already late, so Tessa sat in the kitchen with a torn math notebook, sketching clouds while her mother vacuumed invisible stains and polished things no one ever touched twice.

Then she heard Evelyn's voice.

Not shouty or cruel, but cutting in a way that sliced deeper than yelling ever could.

A misplaced vase.A smudge on a cabinet.

A little girl "wandering where she shouldn't."

It wasn't true.

Tessa hadn't moved from the chair. She remembered clinging to it like a lifeboat, her fingers white against the wood. And across the room, her mother stood completely still.

The next morning, they let her go.

"We appreciate your service, Ms. Blake, but we're moving in a different direction."

Three weeks behind on rent.

No new school shoes.

No explanation.

Her mother never talked about it.

But Tessa never forgot.

She learned something permanent that day:

Stay quiet.

Don't look up.

Don't want anything that belongs to someone like them.

And now here she was.Back in it.

But this time, she wasn't in the kitchen.She was in his car.In his space.In his world.

Nathan had started noticing.

Of course he had.

Not because he cared.

But because her silence had changed shape.

It used to be soft, devoted and dedicated.

Now it was sharp like a sting. And it hurts.

"You've been different," he said, cornering her by the gym after class.

She was texting Zara, pretending he didn't exist, but he stepped closer-too close.

"Tess. You're pulling away from me."

She lifted her eyes slowly, met his stare with one of her own.

"Because it's the first time you've noticed anything about me."

That shut him up.

His mouth opened like he had a comeback ready, but nothing came out.

He reached for her hand and she stepped back.

"I gotta go."

She told Zara everything that night.

About the ride.

The touch.The way Dorian's fingers brushed her spine like she was made of silk and secrets.

Zara didn't freak out or yell.

She just blinked.

Then sat on the counter like it hurt to stay standing.

"You're not ready for that kind of man, babe."

Tessa tilted her head.

"What kind of man?"

Zara let out a breath.

"The kind who doesn't ask. The kind who doesn't explain. The kind who doesn't say sorry when he breaks you-because he warned you."

Tessa's voice barely made it out.

"He hasn't done anything."

But even she didn't believe it.

Zara hopped off the counter, crossed the room, stood right in front of her.

"You think Nathan breaks you?" she said softly. "That man will eat you."

But it was too late.

Tessa was already waiting for the next time she'd see him.

And he did show up.

Because of course he did.

Dorian Cross doesn't do it by coincidence.

He waited outside the diner, engine low, same car parked in the same spot like a shadow that had memorized her routine.

She climbed in without a word.

This time, he didn't ask.

The car slipped through the streets like it didn't touch the pavement.

She stared out the window, fingers twisting in her lap, heart already ahead of her.

Then she asked.

"Why do you keep showing up?"

He didn't answer right away.

Didn't even look at her.

His jaw was tight.

One hand gripping the wheel so hard his knuckle had gone pale.

She turned to him.

"Dorian?"

"You're not ready for the answer," he said quietly.

"Try me."

He pulled the car over. Slow. Deliberate.

Turned toward her.

Face unreadable.

Eyes sharp enough to cut.

Then finally-

"Because I see you."

Her throat closed around the words that tried to come next.

"No one sees me," she whispered.

"I do."

She looked away so fast. Eyes burning.

"You shouldn't. You don't know what that costs."

His hand came up, gentle, fingertips brushing under her chin like she was a secret he wasn't supposed to touch.

"I know exactly what it costs."

He leaned in-not to kiss her, but to breathe close.

To take up the space around her until the rest of the world disappeared.

Her breath hitched.

Her thighs tensed.

Her entire body said yes before her mind could speak.

He didn't push it nor did he move because he didn't have to.

"Go home, Tessa," he murmured, lips near herear, voice soaked in restraint.

"Before I make you forget who you came here to love."

She didn't sleep that night.

Just lay there staring at the ceiling, hand pressed to her neck where he'd touched her.

Because that's the thing about silence.

Once someone learns how to touch it...

You start wondering what it would sound like

if you finally screamed.