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Somewhere under the layers of hurt and fear and instilled authority, it does. It burns so bad I want to scream in his face.

Instead, I nod. Like a good girl.

“Yes.”

Mum sinks into her chair.

“I don’t want this,” she says. “I don’t want you to believe we’re forcing you. It should be a joyous day. A beautiful union.”

The untouched wedding folders are stacked on the sideboard behind her.

Ivory fabric.

Pastel flowers.

A guest list filled with strangers.

“You are forcing me. What’s the point in lying about it?”

Mum starts to cry at that. Dad stares at his glass of water. Christopher does nothing, just sits in his seat with immunity.

“I won’t fire Bryce,” Dad says, finally.

The relief hits so violently that my stomach flips right over.

“Thank you.”

Dad holds up a finger.

“Wait. I said I won’t fire him.”

The emphasis cuts through me.

Dad’s face is calm now. Almost kind, like he’s doing me a favour.

It’s so gross, I want to vomit.

“I won’t dismiss him, but that doesn’t mean I’ll overlook what happened.”

“What will you do to him, then?”

“Bryce will have an opportunity to explain himself,” Dad says.

“And then?”

His gaze is solid. Unwavering.

“And then we’ll understand one another. For the future.”

Something cold moves beneath my skin. Something slimy and vile from the depths.

But Dad just promised.

No firing.

Bryce will keep his job. His career. Everything he spent years of his life building.

I’ve protected him, even if I’ve lost him.