Like she knew it wasn’t really a joke.
I didn’t react.
I just kept working.
But I paid attention.
By Friday, I understood something clearly.
Vanessa wasn’t just confident.
She was certain.
Certain of a place that didn’t belong to her.
At lunch, the kitchen was loud.
Microwaves humming.
Voices overlapping.
The clatter of trays and cutlery filling every empty space.
I stood near the counter, waiting, scrolling through emails I wasn’t really reading.
And then I saw it.
A glass of water.
Clear.
Untouched.
Placed beside a leather portfolio marked with his initials.
N.H.
Nathan’s.
He never came down here.
Not unless something unusual was happening.
Which meant—
Someone had brought it for him.
I looked at the glass.
Just for a second.
And in that second, something settled inside me.
Not anger.
Not jealousy.
Clarity.
So I picked it up.
And I took a drink.
The reaction was immediate.
Not gradual.
Not subtle.
The room snapped into silence like something invisible had broken.
A chair scraped hard against the floor.
Footsteps came fast.
Sharp.
Then—
Crack.
Her hand hit my face before I even turned.
The force snapped my head to the side, heat exploding across my cheek.
“You dare drink my husband’s water?” Vanessa’s voice cut through the room, loud and furious, echoing against tile and glass.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Because something had just crossed a line no one knew how to step back from.
I didn’t react.
I didn’t raise my voice.
I didn’t step away.
Slowly—
I turned back to face her.
“Your husband?” I asked quietly.
Her chin lifted, anger sharpening into something more dangerous.
Possession.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Mine.”
I studied her for a second.
Then I set the glass down.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Like the moment deserved precision.
And that’s when we all heard it.
A voice from the doorway.
Low.
Controlled.
Sharp enough to silence everything else.
“What exactly is going on here?”
Vanessa turned instantly—confident, ready, already expecting to be defended.
But I didn’t need to turn.
I knew that voice.
I had lived beside it.
Nathan Halstead stood at the entrance.
His presence shifted the room immediately.
Eyes moved to him.
Postures straightened.
Breaths held.
His gaze scanned the space quickly—
Then landed on me.
On the red mark rising across my cheek.
Something changed in his expression.
Fast.
