Chapter 107 Butting heads
Timothy
The second Hannah walks out, something in me snaps.
The door hasn’t even fully closed behind her before my gaze shifts to Yvonne.
Furious doesn’t even begin to cover it.
For a brief second,just one, she falters under it.
I see it.
The flicker of uncertainty.
But it disappears just as quickly as it came, replaced by that same rigid, self-righteous composure she always hides behind.
She straightens in her seat, chin lifting.
“All I did was state the truth,” she says, stubborn and unyielding. “If that’s suddenly offensive, then perhaps the problem isn’t me.”
My hands curl into fists on the table.
“The truth?” I repeat, my voice dangerously quiet.
She meets my gaze head-on.
“Yes. The truth,” she insists. “I will not pretend otherwise. Not when we all know what happened.”
My jaw tightens.
“You mean the part where you’ve decided to make her life miserable from the moment she walked in?” I shoot back.
Her eyes flash.
“I have done no such thing.”
“Don’t lie,” I snap. “You’ve been targeting her all evening.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she says sharply. “If she feels targeted, that’s her own insecurity speaking.”
“Insecurity?” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “You ignored her, spoke over her, and then spent the last ten minutes praising someone else in her place.”
“She didn’t earn that place!” Yvonne fires back, her voice rising. “Loretta did.”
The name lands like a match to gasoline.
I lean forward slightly, my voice hardening.
“Loretta is not my wife.”
“She should have been,” Yvonne says without hesitation.
Something in my chest twists.
“Enough,” I grit out.
“No,” she snaps right back. “Not enough. I won’t sit here and pretend that everything is fine when it isn’t.”
Her eyes burn into mine.
“That girl cheated us out of the rightful person in this family, and you expect me to just accept it?”
My chair scrapes loudly against the floor as I shift.
“She didn’t cheat anyone,” I bite out. “You know exactly what happened.”
“Oh, I do,” she says coldly. “A scandal that dragged our name through the mud. A rushed marriage to fix it. And suddenly we’re expected to act like this is normal?”
My temper spikes.
“You think she wanted that?” I demand. “You think any of this was her choice?”
“She certainly doesn’t act like she regrets it,” Yvonne shoots back.
That does it.
“You don’t get to stand there and…”
“Have you forgotten what that situation cost us?” she cuts in, her tone turning sharp, accusing. “The shame? The whispers? The damage to this family?”
I stare at her.
In disbelief.
“Incredible,” I mutter.
“Or have you,” she continues, leaning forward slightly, “let yourself be completely blinded by her?”
My eyes narrow.
“Careful.”
“No,” she presses. “Answer me. Have you been so thoroughly…”
“You’re out of line, Yvonne,” I snap, my voice cutting through hers.
“And you’re blind!” she throws back.
The tension in the room is suffocating now.
Thick.
Sharp.
I can feel the words building in my chest, something far harsher, far more cutting than anything I’ve said so far.
Something I shouldn’t say.
But I’m about to.
“Lemme make this clear, Yvonne. You are nothing more than make up option who…”
“Enough.”
My father’s voice cuts through everything like a blade.
Sharp.
Commanding.
Absolute.
Silence slams into the room.
I stop.
Yvonne freezes.
He stands slowly from his seat, his expression dark with irritation.
“I’ve heard enough from both of you.”
Yvonne turns toward him immediately.
“But…”
“I said enough,” he repeats, firmer this time.
She presses her lips together, clearly unhappy.
“He’s being disrespectful,” she insists. “I will not be spoken to this way in my own home.”
“And you’re being insulting,” I shoot back immediately. “To me and to my wife.”
“I have done no such thing…”
“I will not listen to this,” my father cuts in again, louder now.
We both fall silent.
His gaze moves between us, unimpressed.
“This is exhausting,” he says flatly. “This was meant to be a family dinner. And you’ve both managed to ruin it.”
The words settle heavily in the room.
Yvonne huffs, crossing her arms.
“Well, perhaps if…”
“No,” he says sharply. “There will be no more of this tonight.”
She glares at me.
A long, pointed look filled with everything she doesn’t say out loud.
Then she pushes her chair back.
Hard.
“If that’s how it is,” she mutters.
And just like that, she turns and storms out of the dining room.
The sound of her heels echoes down the hall before fading.
Silence follows.
My father exhales heavily, rubbing his temple like we’ve just given him a headache.
I stand there for a moment, my anger still simmering just beneath the surface.
Then I push my chair back.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” I say flatly.
And I mean it.
There’s nothing left in me that wants to sit here and pretend this evening can still be salvaged.
I turn toward the door.
Hannah.
I need to find her.
Explain.
Fix whatever this is.
“Timothy.”
I stop.
Slowly, I turn back.
My father is watching me.
“No,” he says.
My brows draw together.
“No?”
“We’re going to my office.”
Now?
I glance toward the hallway.
“She just left,” I say, my frustration bleeding through. “I need to…”
“This is important.”
His tone leaves no room for argument.
I hesitate.
Every instinct in me says to go after Hannah.
To make sure she’s okay.
To not leave her alone after that.
But my father doesn’t move.
Doesn’t soften.
“Now,” he repeats.
A command.
Not a suggestion.
I exhale slowly.
Jaw tight.
Then nod once.
“Fine.”
But as I turn toward the direction of his office, one thought lingers heavily in my mind.
I’m leaving her alone.
And for some reason, that doesn’t sit right at all.