Chapter 167
Bryson's POV
Hearing that, Linnet's expression shifted, becoming more serious, and she tightened her grip on my hand like she was anchoring herself before diving into deep water.
Then she started talking, her voice steady but heavy with the burden of what she'd learned, and I listened as she told me the story her mother had finally shared—the truth about what had happened twenty-three years ago between her mother and my father.
She described how her mother had first met Cole, how Cole had pursued her with the kind of focused intensity that probably seemed romantic at first but had gradually revealed itself as something darker, more possessive. How he'd convinced her to move into his apartment, how the relationship had shifted from passion to control.
And then Linnet told me about the violence—her voice dropping lower, each word clearly costing her something to say—
About how Cole had treated her mother, about the pattern of abuse that had escalated over time, about the way he'd used sex and tenderness and apologies to keep her trapped in a cycle she couldn't break free from.
About the night he'd raped her after seeing her with another man, forcing himself on her while she begged him to stop, and then afterward acting like it had been an expression of love rather than the brutal violation it actually was.
My hands were shaking. I could feel them trembling where they gripped Linnet's, could feel the rage and horror and sick recognition building in my chest like a pressure that threatened to crack my ribs from the inside out.
Because this wasn't just about what my father had done to Sarah—this was about what he'd done to my mother too, the pattern that had repeated itself like a curse passed down through generations, the violence that had been hidden behind closed doors and perfect public facades while the women in his life suffered in silence.
"Linnet," I started to say, but my throat felt like it was closing up and I couldn't get the words out, couldn't figure out how to articulate the tangle of emotions churning through me.
She noticed my distress and brought her other hand up to cover our joined ones, her touch warm and steady even though I could feel the slight tremor in her fingers too. "There's more," she said quietly, and I could hear the weight of what she was about to say in those two words. "My mom said that we need to save you, Bryson. She said you don't deserve to be treated like that just because you're Cole's son."
The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs and leaving me struggling to breathe around the sudden tightness in my chest. We need to save you. Not "you need to save yourself" or "you should get away from him"—but we, plural, a collective effort.
Nobody had ever said anything like that to me before.
I felt my eyes start to burn with tears I absolutely could not let fall, not here, not now, so I ducked my head and stared at our joined hands while I fought for control of my emotions.
Linnet didn't push me to look at her or demand an immediate response; she just sat there holding my hands and giving me the space to process what she'd told me, and I loved her even more fiercely for that patience, for understanding that sometimes the most important things can't be rushed.
When I finally trusted myself to speak without my voice breaking, I lifted my head and met her eyes.
"Your mom is right," I said, and the words came out steady even though everything inside me was shaking.
"I don't want to be his puppet anymore. I don't want to be the thing he parades around to prove how perfect his family is, or the trophy he can point to when he needs to demonstrate his success. I'm not his property. I'm not his second chance to live out the football career that got cut short. I'm me—Bryson—and I get to decide what that means."
Linnet's eyes were shining now, tears gathering at the corners but not quite falling, and she nodded.
"I'll support you," she said firmly, her voice carrying a conviction that made me believe she meant every word. "Whatever you decide to do, however you choose to fight back against him—I'll be there. I'll be your backup, your witness, whatever you need. You're not alone in this anymore."
The relief that swept through me at those words was so intense it was almost painful, like blood rushing back into a limb that had gone numb.
I'd been carrying this burden by myself for so long—years of pretending everything was fine, of swallowing my father's abuse and calling it discipline, of letting him dictate every aspect of my life because I didn't think I had any other choice.
But now I had Linnet, and I had Sarah's unexpected support, and suddenly the idea of actually standing up to Cole didn't seem quite so impossible.
But Linnet's next question brought me back to the practical realities of our situation: "So what's your plan? Are you just going to tell him you're done being controlled? Because Bryson, I don't think he's going to take you seriously if you just say it. He'll find a way to twist it around, make you doubt yourself, threaten you with consequences until you back down."
She was right, and I knew it. My father was a master manipulator, had been honing his skills for decades, and he wouldn't just accept my declaration of independence with a shrug and a "well, okay then." He'd fight back with every weapon in his considerable arsenal—emotional manipulation, financial threats, social pressure, maybe even physical violence if he thought he could get away with it.
If I wanted to break free, I needed to do more than just announce my intentions. I needed to take action that he couldn't ignore or undermine, something that would prove I was serious about reclaiming my autonomy.
"I've been thinking about that," I said slowly, "I need to show him I'm serious, not just tell him. And I think the best way to do that is to make it public—to take away his ability to control the narrative."
Linnet's eyebrows rose slightly, curiosity and caution both evident in her expression. "What do you mean by making it public?"
"I want everyone to know that you're my girlfriend, especially my father."