Chapter 5 Hailey

~HAILEY POV~

Dinner ended on a sour note, like a bitter aftertaste that refused to leave my tongue. My father's patience had snapped like a rope stretched too tight.

I knew when we got home it would be me who paid for it.

But right there at the table, I still couldn't bring myself to care. My stubbornness was louder than fear, for now at least.

Santino, oh so gracious in his fine suit, escorted us to the front door like he was a polite gentleman. His steps were slow, confident, too smooth, like a predator pretending to be harmless.

His gaze kept sliding to me, snapping quick, staying for a second too long before he looked away. It made the hairs on my arms stand up, like he could see too much of me.

When he finally spoke, his voice was velvety.

"Mr Carter," he said, turning to my father. His eyes were quick, but the lazy smile pulling at his mouth told me his words would sting.

"As you've seen tonight, your daughter lacks the bearing and manners fit for the daughter-in-law of the prestigious Blackwood family. I hope that next time we meet... she will have been... tamed."

My jaw dropped so wide I must have looked like a fish gasping for air.

I couldn't even form words for a second. This bastard. This arrogant, cold-hearted bastard. Prestigious family?

My foot. He had the nerve to shame me in front of my father, to talk about me like I was some dog needing training.

My father's face flushed red, anger and humiliation mixing in ugly streaks. He laughed nervously, the kind of laugh that made my stomach twist with disgust.

"Ah yes, Mr Blackwood," he said, almost bowing, his hands rubbing together. "My apologies for her behavior tonight." He was all smiles, but it was fake. He was burning inside and I knew who would be burned next.

I glared daggers at Santino, praying that he would just drop dead right there on his marble doorstep. My chest rose and fell in quick breaths.

He looked at me once more, those dark eyes glittering like they knew exactly what he was doing. Then he turned away, still smiling faintly, like he had won something.

......

The car ride home was heavy.

The silence wasn't just silence, it was stuffy, choking, like smoke filling the car. The kind of silence that presses down on your chest and makes you want to scream just to break it.

I leaned against the window, my face blank, the disguise I always wore when I was with them. I wasn't about to show weakness, Not in front of the monster that called himself my father.

Beside me, my mother's hand clutched mine. Her palm was damp with sweat, her fingers trembling even though she tried to grip firmly.

Her face was turned toward the window, her lips pressed tight, eyes staring into the rain like she wanted to disappear into it.

My father sat in the passenger seat like a king on his throne, his phone in his hand, thumbs moving fast and furious across the screen.

Probably texting some business partner about money. Always money. Never once about me. Never once about her. I stared at him, wondering what it would feel like if he gave even half the energy he gave his deals to being a father.

Maybe life wouldn't be this hell.

Raindrops splattered against the windshield, racing down like tiny rivers. The driver kept his eyes locked forward, silent, because even he feared the man sitting in front.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back. For a moment I drifted into a troubled nap, images of Santino's smirk mixing with the memory of my father's fist.

......

The slam of car doors jolted me awake. My heart jumped into my throat. I stumbled out of the car, dazed, my legs stiff, and followed my parents inside.

The living room was dark, moonlight spilling faint silver across the floor. It made shadows on my father's face, sharpening his rage, making him look less human, more monster.

He didn't even remove his jacket. He just turned on us like a storm.

The sound came before I even registered the movement. Slap. Flesh on flesh. My mother's head snapped to the side. A gasp ripped out of me before I could stop it.

She crumpled to the floor, one hand flying to her cheek.

"No!" My voice cracked, broken, desperate. "Don't hit her! You promised!" My feet wouldn't move. Fear nailed me to the floor, heavy, crushing. My body screamed to run to her, but I stayed rooted like a coward.

He didn't stop. His hand kept rising and falling.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Each one harder than the last. My mother didn't even shield herself.

She stayed curled, still, taking it all. She always did. If she fought back, he would turn on me instead. So she endured.

She always endured.

"Everything-" slap "I've-" slap "worked-" slap "for-" slap "was-" slap "destroyed-" slap "by you!" His words came between the blows, spit flying from his mouth, his voice wild and ugly.

Then he grabbed her by the hair dragging her across the floor like she was trash. Her body left streaks of blood on the tiles.

My stomach turned.

My throat closed. Tears blurred my vision but I couldn't stop screaming, couldn't stop begging.

"Please! Stop! You're killing her!" My voice was hoarse, breaking. But he didn't stop. He never stopped until his rage cooled on its own.

Finally, he stood back, chest heaving, suit splattered with blood. My mother lay still, too still, in a pool of red. A deep gash marked her forehead.

Her right eye was swollen shut.

"Behave properly," he spat, voice rough, "and stop being so ungrateful." With that, he stormed upstairs, leaving silence in his wake.

I scrambled to my mother's side, falling to my knees in the sticky blood.

"Mom," I sobbed, shaking.

My hands hovered uselessly over her wounds, too afraid to touch, too afraid to hurt her more. My heart clenched so tight it felt like it would rip out of my chest.

She lifted her head weakly, tried to smile, but it twisted into a grimace. Blood spilled from her lips. A broken tooth clinked against the tile.

My sobs came raw, loud, shaking the walls.

"Shh," she whispered, voice thin as paper. Her swollen face turned toward me. "Don't cry, my little volcano." The words cracked and she winced.

Every sound seemed to hurt her.

"Santino... he seems like... a fair person... beneath what he shows. Do what your father says." Her voice was fading, trembling.

I thought of Santino. His sharp eyes, his cold smile, the strange moment at dinner when it felt like the world had shrunk to just us.

And I realized I was trapped between two monsters. My father, cruel and twisted. Santino, a man I couldn't yet read.

Which one was worse? Which one would break me first? I didn't know. But I knew one thing. I was stuck.

Stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.