Chapter 61 Family dinner
CHAPTER 61:-
THIRD PERSON’S POV.
The moment Trisha slammed her door, her phone started vibrating loudly on the bed.
She hissed and tried to ignore it, focusing on slowing her breathing.
It rang again. She groaned, snatched it up, and saw the caller ID. Another long exhale.
“What do you want, Oscar?” she muttered.
“Damn,” he gasped. “Is that how you answer your calls now?”
“I said what I said,” she replied, keeping her tone flat.
“I just… wanted to check on you. You’re a patient, remember?”
“I’m fine. Goodbye.” She moved to hang up.
“Hold on, please,” he said. “Tell me what’s wrong. You sound… different. Feistier than usual.”
She hesitated, inhaled slowly, then let it out. “I had a fight with Serena,” she admitted quietly.
“Well… that’s not something you hear every day.” He chuckled softly. “What happened?”
“I can’t get into the details,” she said slowly. “She’s… stubborn. She knows what’s right, but she chooses not to see it. She’d rather remain in denial.”
“Give her a break,” Oscar’s soft voice said over the phone. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks, no one gets over the loss of a loved one so quickly.” She said,
Trisha rolled her eyes, half amused, half exasperated. Wrong about Serena mourning, right about the rough days. “You’re not wrong,” she said, sinking back onto the bed. “She’s still stubborn.”
Oscar laughed softly. “I know someone even more stubborn.”
“Whatever,” she scoffed, but she smiled anyway.
“Should I come see you tonight?”
“I’m not home.”
“I know where you are. So… should I?”
She paused, just a beat too long. “No, Oscar. I told you we had to stop… whatever this is.”
“Yeah, but you never said why.”
“I don’t have to,” she said, curtly, her voice sharper than she intended.
Silence. She checked her phone, making sure the call hadn’t dropped.
“See… stubborn,” he said finally, almost smug.
Trisha smiled faintly. “Goodbye, Oscar.”
Serena was just fastening her heels when Damian walked in.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Almost.” She handed him a silver necklace. “Put this on for me, please.”
His fingers brushed lightly against her skin as he took it.
She shivered.
He studied her in the mirror. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes stayed on the floor.
He stepped closer, turned her gently to face him. “You’re not.” His finger lifted her chin, guiding her gaze to his. “Tell me,” he whispered, voice soft but insistent.
“I… argued with Trisha,” she admitted, her voice small.
“Friends fight,” he said, holding her face carefully.
“Yes, but this… it was different. She was being stubborn.”
“Hmm… and you?”
“Me? What about me? Serena blinked, confused.
“Were you also being stubborn?”
“Of course not.” She cleared her throat, trying to force her focus.
“Okay,” he chuckled.
“What do you mean, okay?” she asked, folding her hands.
“Nothing, just… okay.”
“Yes, but why like that?”
He laughed and kissed her forehead, his fingers gently gripping her head. “We should head out.”
“Okay.” She mimicked.
Damian chuckled behind her, shaking his head.
When they stepped onto the pavement, he rushed ahead of her to the car then opened the door, stepping aside for her.
Inside, Serena texted Trisha:
SERNA: So I forgot to tell you, this morning while I was with Damian Oscar called and mentioned something about a trauma Damian suffered 15 years ago. Any info on that?
It wasn’t an urgent text but Serena sent it anyway, she just wanted to talk to Trisha.
They got into the car and she watched anxiously as the bubble appeared and she disappeared.
After what felt like forever, Trisha finally reacted to the message with a thumbs up.
Serena’s heart sank. She turned the phone over and focused on the road.
The Gregory mansion was perfectly set; soft music floated through the air.
Pa Benedict shuffled in first, cane tapping lightly.
“Good evening, Pa Benedict,” Clara and Jonathan greeted him together.
“Clara, Jonathan… good evening,” he replied, nodding at both.
“Thank you,” they said in unison.
“Where’s your father?”
“He hasn’t come down yet,” Clara said, taking his hand to lead him up the short steps.
“I see I’m the only one who cares about timing.” He glanced around the empty house. “Even little Serena isn’t here yet.”
“I’m sure they’re already on their way,” Clara reassured him. She turned to Jonathan, then mouthed: Call Serena, no
Jonathan lingered on the porch. Once Clara and Pa Benedict disappeared down the hall, he pulled out his phone.
“Hello, who is this?” Serena said from the phone speaker.
“You deleted my number? Ouch.”
“Jonathan.” She said, recognizing the voice.
“Hello darling,” he sounded like he was getting comfortable in the conversation.
“What do you want?”
“You know I think I like this feisty version of you. It’s very hot.”
“I asked what you wanted,” Serena repeated slowly, already moving her finger to the disconnect button.
“Fine,” Jonathan gave up, “La Benedict is here and he’s not happy about being the only one here.”
“We are already on our way.” She replied.
“Make it faster.” Jonathan said, “Personally, I can’t wait to see you.”
Serena ended the call immediately the words flew out of his mouth, she wished she had not answered the call to even begin with.
She closed her eyes briefly, praying that Damian didn’t hear that last part.
But he did, she could tell from the way his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and by how fast they had started to drive.
She wanted to say something and assure him that Jonathan was just being silly but it was like some unseen glue kept her mouth shut.
In the driver's seat across from her, Damian remained razor-focused on the road. Not once commenting on the call he had just witnessed.
But in his mind, he remembered when he was a teenager and his father had just recently started to teach him how to use a gun. They had used watermelons for the first shooting practice, and each bullet had sent the melon exploding into tiny different pieces.
Today, he wished that watermelon had been Jonathan’s head.