Chapter 25 Hacker kid
That night, she locked her door and cried quietly into her pillow, grief pressing down on her chest for reasons she couldn’t fully name. She mourned the safety she thought she’d found. The trust she’d built. The man she thought she’d glimpsed beneath the cold exterior.
Rain did not sleep that night.
She sat on the edge of her bed long after the storm passed, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the door as if it might accuse her again. The echo of Rosee’s voice cold, sharp, dismissive kept replaying in her head, each repetition cutting deeper than the last.
You think you can seduce me?
Her throat burned.
She had walked into that room believing—no, trusting that he had called for her. That there had been something real in the words he sent. Something human. Instead, she was left feeling foolish, exposed, and unbearably small.
By morning, shame had settled into her bones.
She dressed carefully, choosing clothes that hid rather than flattered, pulling her sleeves down as if they could shield her from the memory of his hands on her skin. When she stepped into the hallway, the mansion felt different. Colder. Watchful.
Rosee did not acknowledge her at breakfast.
He spoke to the twins. He spoke to his staff. He did not look at her.
Rain focused on her work, on the familiar rhythm of caring for the children, but something had shifted there too. The boy clung to her side more than usual, his small hand slipping into hers whenever he could. He watched her constantly, eyes searching her face like he was afraid she might disappear if he looked away.
The girl, on the other hand, was radiant.
She hummed as she ate. She smiled at nothing. Her eyes flicked toward Rain with sharp, fleeting interest—measuring, assessing.
Rain tried to shake the feeling crawling up her spine.
Later that afternoon, while the twins worked on their tablets in the sunroom, Rain sat nearby pretending to read.
Later, The twins were unusually quiet as they walked beside her down the corridor. Noah’s fingers were twisted together so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. Lia lagged behind, dragging her feet, her earlier brightness gone, replaced by a strange, brittle stillness.
Rain slowed, crouching in front of them. “Hey,” she said softly. “What’s going on?”
Noah shook his head. Lia didn’t look at her.
“It’s okay,” Rain added, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “Whatever it is, we’ll talk it through.”
Lia’s lips pressed into a thin line.
The study doors were already open.
Rosee stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, jaw set so hard it looked like it might crack. The room felt charged, like the air before lightning strikes. Mykel was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Precious. This was private. Intentionally so.
“Inside,” Rosee ordered.
The twins stepped forward. Rain followed instinctively, but Rosee’s gaze snapped to her.
“You stay.”
Rain hesitated. “Sir, I—”
“This is between me and my children.”
The word children landed like a hammer.
Rain stepped back, heart pounding, standing just inside the doorway instead. Close enough to hear. Close enough to intervene if she had to.
Rosee didn’t waste time.
“Did either of you touch Rain’s phone?”
Silence.
The kind that screamed.
Noah’s eyes flicked to Lia. Lia stared at the carpet.
Rosee’s voice dropped. “Answer me.”
Lia shrugged, too quickly. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rain’s stomach twisted.
Rosee leaned forward, palms flat on the desk. “I said—did you touch her phone?”
Noah swallowed. Rain saw his throat bob.
Rosee straightened abruptly, his chair screeching as it scraped back. “Don’t lie to me.”
His voice rose sharply on the last word, cracking through the room like a whip.
Both twins flinched.
Lia’s breath hitched. Her eyes widened, glassy and wet. “Daddy—”
“I asked you a question!”
The shout came out harsher than Rain had ever heard. The walls seemed to absorb it and throw it back.
Lia shook violently. A dark stain spread down the front of her trousers.
Rain froze.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
Lia burst into sobs, hands flying to her face. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”
Rain moved without thinking.
“Stop!” she cried, stepping fully into the room. “Stop yelling at them!”
Rosee turned on her, eyes blazing. “This does not concern you.”
“They’re terrified,” Rain shot back, already kneeling in front of Lia, pulling the trembling child into her arms. “Look at her!”
Rosee’s gaze flicked downward, taking in the mess, the shaking, the raw fear—and for a split second, something unreadable crossed his face.
Then it hardened.
“You will step away,” he said coldly. “Now.”
“No,” Rain said, her voice shaking but firm. “They’re kids. You don’t scare children into telling the truth.”
Rosee reached for the cane leaning against the wall.
Rain’s breath caught. “What are you doing?”
He ignored her.
“I’ll ask one last time,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Did either of you hack Rain’s phone?”
Noah broke.
“I did!” he sobbed suddenly, the words tumbling out of him. “I did it, Daddy—please don’t—”
Rain felt the world tilt.
She stared at him. “Noah… what?”
He was crying openly now, shoulders heaving. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. Lia said—she said it would be funny. She said you’d like it.”
Lia sobbed harder. “You said you would do it!”
“I didn’t know it would get bad,” Noah cried. “I just sent messages—I thought—”
Rain’s ears rang.
Messages.
The confusion.
The shame.
The night in the rain.
Her knees felt weak.
Rosee’s face went completely still.
“Stretch your hands,” he ordered.
Noah obeyed automatically, tears dripping onto the floor. Lia hesitated, then followed, her hands shaking so badly they barely stayed outstretched.
Rain surged forward. “No—Rosee, please.”
He ignored her.
The cane came down.
Once.
Noah cried out sharply.
Twice.
Lia screamed.
“That’s enough!” Rain shouted, throwing herself between them, arms wide, back to the twins. The cane stopped inches from her shoulder.
Rosee stared at her, breathing hard.
“You will not touch them again,” Rain said, voice breaking but unyielding. “Not like this.”
“They manipulated me,” he snapped. “They humiliated her. They crossed a line.”
“They’re children,” Rain repeated, tears streaming now. “And they’re scared.”
Something in Rosee’s eyes faltered.
Just for a second.
Rain didn’t wait for him to recover.
She turned, scooping Lia into her arms and grabbing Noah’s hand. “Come on,” she whispered. “You’re coming with me.”
She didn’t ask permission.
She walked out.
Up the stairs.
Down the corridor.
Into her room.
She locked the door.
The twins collapsed onto her bed, sobbing until their breaths came in broken gasps. Rain held them both, rocking gently, her own heart splintering under the weight of it all.
“You’re safe,” she murmured over and over. “You’re safe.”
But deep down, she knew something had shattered.
Trust.
Boundaries.
Innocence.
And somewhere else in the mansion, Rosee stood alone in the wreckage of his own making—finally realizing that whatever game had begun inside his walls had already gone too far.
And it wasn’t over yet.