Chapter 215
Lynette's POV
I stood in the doorway. Stared at Kael Harrington sitting in my living room like he owned the place.
Mom's voice floated from the kitchen. "Lynette! You're back! Perfect timing. Kael stopped by to visit. Come have breakfast with us."
My jaw tightened.
Of course he did.
I kicked off my running shoes. Didn't bother being quiet about it. The thud echoed through the hallway.
Ethan sat rigid on the couch. His shoulders were squared. Tense. Like he was ready to throw Kael out the second I gave the signal.
At least someone in this house had sense.
Kael looked completely relaxed. One ankle crossed over his knee. Hands resting on the armrests. That stupid fruit basket sat on the coffee table between them. Wrapped in cellophane with a giant red bow.
Who the hell brings a fruit basket at six in the morning?
"I was out buying groceries," Mom said, appearing in the kitchen doorway with a dish towel. "Ran into Kael at the market. Such a polite young man. I couldn't let him leave without offering breakfast."
I bet you couldn't.
Mom's eyes were practically sparkling. She looked at Kael like he'd hung the moon.
This was exactly what happened before. When I was still stuck in Elara's body. Mom had tried so hard to push us together.
Now she was doing it again.
I wanted to scream.
"Good morning," Kael said. His voice was low. Smooth. He looked at me with that same warm expression. Like we were friends.
We weren't friends.
"Morning," I said. Kept my tone flat.
I walked past the living room. Headed straight for the kitchen.
Mom grabbed my arm before I could escape. "Lynette, honey, can you help me with something?"
I knew that tone.
She pulled me into the kitchen. Lowered her voice to a whisper. "Isn't he handsome? And so well-mannered."
"Mom—"
"I'm just saying." She pressed a knife into my hand. Pointed at the fruit basket. "Go wash that and cut some fruit for our guest."
I stared at the basket. Then at her.
She smiled. Hopeful. Excited.
I couldn't say no to that face.
I sighed. Grabbed the basket. "Fine."
---
I brought the fruit plate back to the living room. Set it on the coffee table with more force than necessary.
Kael's eyes followed me. That soft smile still on his face.
I didn't look at him. Focused on arranging the fruit slices instead.
The dining table was already set. Mom had gone all out. Scrambled eggs. Toast. Bacon. Fresh orange juice. Like we were hosting royalty.
"Everything smells amazing, Mrs. Grey," Kael said.
Mom beamed. "Oh, it's nothing special. Just a simple breakfast."
Liar. This was her best china.
I pulled out a chair. Sat down. Ethan took the seat next to me. His leg bounced under the table.
He was pissed.
Good.
Kael sat across from us. Still looking perfectly comfortable.
I hated how good he looked. Black sweater. Dark jeans. Hair slightly messy like he'd just woken up. But somehow it worked on him.
Stop it.
I grabbed a piece of toast. Bit into it harder than necessary.
Mom sat down at the head of the table. Started serving food. "So, Kael, what brings you to our neighborhood so early?"
"I was out for a drive," he said smoothly. "Thought I'd stop by the market. Pure coincidence running into you."
Bullshit.
Nobody drives to a grocery store at dawn for fun.
I kept my mouth shut. Chewed my toast. Let Mom carry the conversation.
She was doing a great job of it anyway. Asking him about school. His family. His plans for the holidays.
Kael answered every question with that same easy charm. Never stumbling. Never awkward.
I caught him looking at me twice.
Both times I looked away.
My chest felt tight. Not from running. From something else.
Something I didn't want to name.
---
The front door opened.
I froze mid-bite.
Heavy footsteps. Slow. Dragging.
Dad appeared in the doorway.
My stomach dropped.
He looked like hell. Dirt on his shirt. Hair a mess. Dark circles under his eyes. His shoulders sagged like someone had piled bricks on them.
Mom stood up so fast her chair scraped the floor. "Marcus? What are you doing home?"
Dad didn't answer right away. He walked to the couch. Dropped onto it like his legs had given out.
Ethan was already on his feet. "Dad, what happened?"
I stayed seated. Watched him carefully.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Dad rubbed his face with both hands. Let out a long breath.
"I got fired," he said quietly.
The room went silent.
Mom's hand flew to her mouth. "What?"
"They let me go this morning." Dad's voice was flat. Empty. "Said I violated safety protocols. Improper operation of equipment."
My fork hit the plate. The sound was too loud in the quiet room.
Ethan's face went red. "That's bullshit! You've worked there for fifteen years!"
"Language," Mom whispered. But her voice shook.
I leaned back in my chair. Crossed my arms. Studied Dad's face.
He wasn't looking at any of us. His eyes were fixed on the coffee table. Jaw tight.
He was lying.
Not about being fired. That part was true.
But the reason? That was bullshit.
"Dad." My voice cut through the tension. "What really happened?"
His eyes flicked to me. Then away.
"I told you. Safety violation."
"You've never violated safety protocols in your life," I said flatly.
Ethan nodded. "She's right. Someone set you up. Who was it?"
Dad shook his head. Stood up. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done."
"Like hell it doesn't matter!" Ethan stepped forward. "We can fight this. You have rights—"
"Ethan." Dad's voice was sharp. Final. "Drop it."
Mom moved to his side. Touched his arm gently. "Marcus, please. Talk to us."
"There's nothing to talk about." He pulled away from her. Headed toward the hallway. "I'm going to clean up."
We all watched him disappear down the hall.
The bathroom door closed. Locked.
Nobody moved.