Don't you dare talk back to me.
Liana's POV
My stomach plummeted like a stone in freefall, the world narrowing to the damning photos clutched in Mom's trembling hand. The kitchen, usually a haven of warm aromas and casual chatter, felt like a courtroom now—cold, accusatory, the air thick with betrayal. Richard stood frozen in the doorway, his face twisting from confusion to dawning horror as he snatched one of the pictures from the counter, his eyes bulging at the blurry image of Dante and me in the SUV, my legs spread, his hand buried under my skirt, our mouths locked in a heated kiss that screamed everything we weren't supposed to be.
"What the hell is this?" Richard bellowed, his voice booming off the walls like thunder, crumpling the photo in his fist as if that could erase the evidence. His gaze swung between us, landing on Dante with a venom I'd never seen—pure, unfiltered rage. "You... you and your own stepsister? In my house? Under my roof? You disgusting little shit!"
Dante stiffened beside me, his hand tightening around mine in a silent show of solidarity, but his jaw clenched, the fighter in him ready to erupt. "Dad, it's not—"
"Not what?" Mom interrupted, her voice shrill and breaking, tears welling in her eyes as she flung the envelope down, photos scattering across the tiled floor like fallen leaves from a poisoned tree. One landed face-up at my feet: me in lacy lingerie, posed provocatively on my bed, a shot I'd sent to Jake in a moment of foolish trust. Her face contorted—shock morphing into fury, her cheeks flushing red. "Not you whoring yourself out to your stepbrother? Not ruining this family? Our reputations? Do you have any idea what this means? The neighbors, our friends, the church group—everyone will know! We'll be the laughingstock, the perverts who couldn't keep their kids in line!"
"Mom, please," I whispered, my voice cracking as I stepped forward, hands outstretched in supplication. My core still throbbed from the day's excesses, Dante's cum a warm, sticky reminder leaking into my panties, but it felt dirty now, tainted by the storm brewing. "It wasn't like that. We... we love each other. It just happened. Jake did this—he's the one who leaked them, trying to hurt us. Please, listen—"
Her hand shot out before I could finish, the slap cracking across my cheek like a whip, the sting blooming hot and immediate, leaving my skin tingling and my eyes watering. I reeled back, hand flying to my face, shock freezing me in place. Mom had never hit me before—not ever. Her palm print burned, a red welt rising as tears spilled down my cheeks.
"Don't you dare talk back to me!" she shrieked, her voice raw with hysteria, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Love? This isn't love—it's sick! Twisted! You've destroyed everything we've built. Richard's job—his clients are conservative, Liana. One whisper of this scandal, and he's done. And me? I'll be the mother who raised a slut, parading around with her stepbrother like some trashy tabloid story. How could you? After everything we've given you!"
I dropped to my knees, the cold floor biting into my skin, sobs wracking my body as I clutched at her legs, begging through the blur of tears. "Mom, I'm sorry—please, forgive us. We didn't mean to hurt anyone. We'll stop, I swear. Just don't hate me. Please, please listen. It was a mistake—"
But she yanked away, stepping back as if my touch burned her, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "Stop? Now? It's too late! These photos are out there—anonymous tips, gossip apps, mailed right to our door. You've ruined us all!" She turned to Richard, who was pacing now, his face purple with rage, fists clenched at his sides.
"And you," Richard snarled at Dante, advancing on him with a finger jabbed like a dagger. "My own son—preying on her like some animal. I raised you better than this, you ungrateful bastard! Sneaking around, defiling her in our home? In the car? You're both expelled from this house if I have anything to say about it. Pack your shit and get out—before I call the cops myself and have you arrested for... for whatever the hell this is!"
Dante's eyes flashed with defiance, his body coiling like a spring, but he held back, glancing at me on the floor, his expression a mix of fury and heartbreak. "Dad, you don't understand. It's not predation—it's real. But fine, if you want us gone, we'll go. But don't blame her. This is on me."
"No!" I cried, scrambling to my feet, the slap's sting fueling my desperation as I grabbed Mom's arm again. "Please, don't kick us out. We'll fix this—talk to Jake, delete everything. I beg you, Mom, Richard—give us a chance. We're family!"
Mom shook me off, her tears turning to icy resolve. "Family? You spit on that word. Get upstairs—both of you. Separate rooms. No talking, no touching. We'll deal with this tomorrow—therapists, maybe even the authorities. But mark my words, this ends now. Or you're both out on the street, reputations be damned."
Richard nodded grimly, his eyes avoiding mine as he muttered, "Damn right. You've shamed us all."
The weight of their fury crushed me as Dante helped me up, his touch brief but electric, a silent promise amid the chaos. We trudged upstairs in silence, the house feeling like a prison now, the air heavy with unspoken threats. In my room, alone, I collapsed on the bed, cheek throbbing, core aching with a twisted mix of fear and lingering desire. What now? The fire between Dante and me—it wouldn't extinguish so easily. But with our parents' wrath raining down, the burn might consume us all.