Sinner's Grace

The New Phone

"Ivy!" Dad's voice booms from downstairs, and I know I'm good as dead. My heart pounds as I quickly slip on my pajama bottoms and a T-shirt before rushing downstairs, my pulse hammering in my ears.

"Dad?" I call hesitantly, my voice trembling.

Mom is standing in the middle of the living room, my phone clutched in her hand like a weapon. Her glare is sharp enough to cut steel as she thrusts the screen in my direction. "What is this? Chatting with your boyfriend?"

I freeze, dread washing over me. Even though I can't clearly see the messages on the screen, I already know what she's referring to.

"What did we tell you about discipline?" Dad roars, his face red with fury.

"I... it's not what you think," I stammer, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Not what we think?" Mom snaps. "What are we supposed to think, Ivy? You went out to a party last night, you got drunk, you went home with a total stranger, and you slept with him. Again! You've had s*x when your older sister is still a virgin! Why can't you be more like her for once?"

The accusation stabs me in the chest, the shame and frustration bubbling up inside me. "Mom, I—" I begin to plead, my voice breaking.

"Mom, what?" Mom interrupts, her voice rising to a fever pitch. "We did everything for you. We sent you to school, nun school no less, and you threw it all away. I thought moving to New York would fix your already broken life, but you're still just as useless as ever!"

The tears spill over now, hot and relentless, as I cast a desperate glance at Alina. She scoffs and looks away, her disdain for me clear in every move.

"I didn't do anything with him!" I cry out, trying to explain. "Kade just gave me a ride home because I was stranded, that's all! Nothing happened!"

"Nothing happened?" Mom hisses. "Then why is he texting you about wearing his sweatpants and wanting to take you out? What type of daughter are you, Ivy?"

"I swear, I did nothing with him!" My voice rises in desperation, cracking with the weight of my words.

The room falls silent for a moment, my parents stunned by my outburst. But then Mom's hand connects with my face in a sharp slap, the sting radiating across my cheek.

"How dare you raise your voice at my wife?" Dad growls, his tone venomous. "You whore."

I press my trembling hand to my stinging cheek, the tears now flowing freely. The pain isn't just physical—it's emotional, a deep, aching hurt that words can't express.

"You're going back to therapy," Mom declares, her voice firm. "You clearly need help. You've turned into one of these hopeless street girls, just like your cousin Nadia. What happened to that little girl with dignity and the fear of God? You've thrown everything away, first for Marcus and now for Kade. Are you shameless?"

The mention of Marcus sends another wave of pain crashing over me. The memories, the shame—it's all too much. I can't breathe.

"You're grounded," Dad snaps. "You're staying in your room, and you're not eating for the next five days. Maybe then you'll learn a little discipline."

"Mom, Dad," I sob, but my words are cut off as Mom raises her hand again.

"Shut up!" she yells.

My phone rings suddenly, the sound cutting through the tense air like a knife. Mom glances at the screen and scowls. "It's your boyfriend, Kade," she says with disgust, holding up the phone.

Dad snatches it out of her hand and answers the call, putting it on speakerphone. "Ivy," Kade's voice comes through, low and calm.

"This isn't Ivy," Dad snaps. "This is her father. Now listen to me, Mr. Kade. Stay away from my daughter. Leave her alone! You can't just go around deceiving her and dragging her into your bed. You're nothing but a useless street rat!"

I flinch, my heart breaking at the humiliation of having Kade hear this.

"Let me make myself clear to you," Mom interjects. "Ivy is not your type of girl. She's supposed to be in nun school, serving God—not running after low-life men like you. Keep your disgusting d**k in your pants and stay away from her. She's a Christian daughter, not some toy for hopeless hoodlums like you to use and throw away!"

With that, she hurls my phone at the wall. The screen shatters on impact, the sound echoing through the room.

"Mom!" I cry out, horrified.

"Not another word!" she snaps. "If you say one more thing, I'll beat the hell out of you. Now, go to your room!"

Choking back a sob, I run upstairs, my legs shaky as I slam the door shut behind me. I collapse onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow as the tears spill over again.

*Why does my family hate me so much? Why do they treat me like I'm nothing? I hate them. I hate myself. If I hadn't gone to that stupid club, none of this would have happened.*

Alina. My own sister. I can't believe she showed them my phone. She must really hate me for wanting to ruin my life like this.

I curl into a ball on my bed, my body trembling as the sobs wrack through me. My chest aches, and for the first time, I wonder if things will ever get better—or if I'll always be the family's punching bag.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, grab the bottle of pills from my nightstand, and swallow one dry, the bitterness cutting through the lump in my throat. Slamming the bottle back down, I wipe my face again, despising my life more with every passing second.

*It's not like Kade and I are going to cross paths again,* but the thought of my parents humiliating me in front of a total stranger—a man they know nothing about—makes me wish the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.

"You look sad," Alina's voice cuts through the silence.

I glance up to find her leaning casually against the doorframe, a smug smirk plastered on her face.

"You'll be fine, sweetheart," she mocks, the sarcasm dripping from her tone.

"Please, just leave." My voice cracks, the words barely holding back the storm brewing inside me. "How could you do that to me? You let Mom and Dad humiliate me on the phone to Kade. I even got hit because of you. Do you enjoy taking advantage of my kindness?"

Alina shrugs, completely unfazed. Folding her arms across her chest, she tilts her head, her smirk deepening.

"So, who's this unfortunate Kade? What's so special about you that he decided to take you home?" Her eyes rake over me, from my disheveled hair to my oversized pajamas, her disdain palpable.

It's not like this is new. I've known for years that she doesn't think much of me. I'm not like her or Nadia. I don't have their flair, their confidence, or their looks. My wardrobe is filled with jeans, hoodies, and sweaters—simple clothes that won't get a second glance. I can't afford their trendy outfits or expensive hair extensions. I don't even have a job.

If our parents weren't so controlling, Alina would probably be at a magazine shoot posing provocatively for some internet fame. She's always pretending to be the perfect daughter, but it's all an exhausting act.

"I bet he's ugly, hmm?" she teases, her tone venomous as she gives me the stink eye.

I clench my fists, trying to hold back my frustration. I want to yell at her, to throw her out of my room, but I stop myself. I already know what she's getting at—I'm not the type of girl someone like Kade Sterling would want.

He's way out of my league. That much is obvious. Just remembering the way people stared when I left the club with him makes my stomach churn. Even in my drunken haze, I could feel the judgment. Kade is the type of man who commands attention, who lives in a world of luxury I can't even begin to understand. I'm just... me. A naive Christian girl, as he put it.

"Please, leave my room."

"Yeah, right." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she turns and walks out, deliberately leaving the door wide open behind her.

I stare at the empty doorway for a moment, my frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. I can't wait to start college, to get away from this house, from them. I want to be far away, so far that even the holidays won't tempt me to come back.

I sigh and lean against the wall, the thought bringing me a small flicker of hope. It's the only thing keeping me going right now—the thought of escaping this nightmare.

***

It's been a week since my mom smashed my phone and humiliated me in front of Kade. I haven't heard from him since, not that I expected to. Without a phone and with no way to escape, I've been holed up in my room, alternating between reading and sleeping. My life is the definition of boring.

This Saturday afternoon feels no different. I sit at the kitchen counter, stirring my lukewarm coffee endlessly, wishing I could get out of the house to breathe some fresh air. But where would I even go?

"Mom, I'm going out with a friend," Alina announces, sauntering into the kitchen. She's dressed to impress, her makeup flawless, her hair styled just right.

"You've made a new friend?" Mom asks, immediately curious.

"Mom, it's Hazel. You remember Hazel, right? She's a good girl—no boyfriend, no drama." Alina's smile is syrupy sweet, the kind she uses to wrap Mom around her finger.

"Is she in college?"

"Yes, Mom. And she goes to church. She's a Catholic. Her dad's a respected elder in their community." Alina grabs my coffee cup and takes a sip, only to spit it back into the mug with an exaggerated grimace.

"Gross. You drink this?" She snarls at me, tossing the mug back on the counter.

I sigh and stand up, pouring the coffee down the sink. Mom sees the whole exchange but doesn't say a word. I'm not surprised.

"Oh, there she is!" Alina's tone brightens as a blonde girl steps into the kitchen.

Hazel is almost doll-like with her creamy white skin, bright blue eyes, and perfect smile.

"Hi," she says to me warmly before turning to Mom. "Hello, Mrs. Bennett. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Mom's face lights up. "Oh, Alina's told me so much about you. Are you two heading out together?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hazel replies with a sweet smile. "We'll be back early, and we promise to behave."

"Good," Mom says, chuckling. "Just don't get drunk and wake up in a man's bed wearing his sweatpants."

The jab is aimed squarely at me, and my cheeks burn. I feel like an insect under a magnifying glass.

"Thanks, Mom!" Alina chirps, kissing Mom's cheek before rushing out the door with Hazel.

Mom turns to me with a sharp glare. "Are you going to turn off that tap or stand there wasting water?"

I glance at the sink. The faucet is still running.

"Sorry," I mumble, quickly shutting it off.

Mom lets out a frustrated sigh and goes back to the stove.

"Mom..." I hesitate.

"What now?" She snaps, not even looking at me.

"I want to look for a job."

That gets her attention. She turns around, her brows furrowing. "A job?"

"Yes," I say quickly, hoping to explain before she starts yelling. "I want to do something useful instead of sitting at home all day. It'll be a decent job—no men involved. I promise."

She eyes me skeptically, and I feel like a child pleading for permission to go to the park. "I'm sorry about the whole Kade thing. It won't happen again."

She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "And why should I believe you?"

"Please, Mom. I'll be back by seven every day. No trouble, I swear."

After a long pause, she sighs. "Fine. But I want to know where you're working. And if you're even a minute late, you're done."

"Thank you!" I breathe out, barely able to contain my relief.

Four days later, after what felt like an eternity of rejections, I landed a part-time job at Sandy's, a small but classy restaurant. It's not extravagant, but it's cozy, and the shifts are manageable. Since I'm not in college yet, I signed up for the afternoon shift, finishing at 6:30 p.m. to make it home by seven.

"You'll be fine," Sandy reassures me on my first day.

The uniform is simple: a polo shirt with the restaurant logo on the back and black pants. I shadow Vickie, a seasoned employee, as we wait tables and take orders. The work is straightforward, and for once, I feel like I'm doing something productive.

As I stand at the counter, brewing coffee for a customer, I feel a pair of eyes on me. I glance up to see a young man with striking blue eyes and a shy smirk staring at me. He quickly looks away, whispering something to his friend.

"That was weird," I mutter under my breath.

"Hey, can you refill table four's drink for me? I need a bathroom break," Vickie says, appearing beside me.

"Table four?"

"Yeah, the guy with the blue eyes." She tips her head toward the stranger. "He likes it with two sugars."

I nod, brew his coffee, and carry it to his table.

"Your coffee, sir," I say, setting it down.

"Thanks. Call me Ryan," he says with a warm smile.

"Uh, sure," I reply awkwardly, glancing at his friend before turning to leave.

"Sorry, can we get your name?" his friend asks, a brunette with hazel eyes.

"It's Ivy," I reply, eager to get back to the counter. "I need to get back to work."

"Sure," Ryan says, though he looks a little disappointed.

I nod politely and make my way back to the counter, trying to shake off the encounter. *It's nothing,* I tell myself. *Just a polite customer. Nothing more.*

"Asking you out?" Vickie teases as I return to the counter. She wiggles her eyebrows and smirks.

"Not really," I reply, keeping my tone polite.

"Yeah? He's cute, though."

"I don't care. I'm here to work, not worry about boys."

She gives me a look, one I don't fully understand. I ignore her, tying my hair into a loose bun before heading back to the tables to clear the dishes. I take the plates to the kitchen and drop them in the sink.

"Hey, Mary." I smile at the kitchen assistant, trying to distract myself.

"Ivy," she replies with a nod. "Busy day?"

"I guess," I say with a small shrug.

"The dishes could tell," she quips, nodding at the overflowing sink.

"Yeah. I should head back," I reply, flashing her a quick smile.

"Sure thing."

I head back toward the counter, only to stop in my tracks.

*There he is. Kade Sterling.* The last person I expected—or wanted—to see.

He's seated in a booth by the window, looking impossibly composed as he flips through the menu. Across from him sits a dark-haired woman, poised and elegant. Vickie is standing next to him, smiling way too much and pointing at things on the menu.

*Great. I'm just gonna puke,* I mutter under my breath.

As if sensing my presence, Kade's gaze shifts upward, locking with mine. My breath hitches. His expression shifts, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes before settling into something unreadable. I quickly look away and hurry back behind the counter.

Vickie returns a moment later, practically floating on air.

"I'm still trying to catch my breath," she says dramatically, leaning against the counter.

"Are you okay?"

"Look around! Don't you see someone unusual?" she whispers, her excitement palpable.

I don't need to look around. I already know she's talking about Kade Sterling. Judging by the way other women in the restaurant are stealing glances at him, he's clearly someone important—or infamous.

"Just Kade sitting with a girl," I reply nonchalantly, though my stomach is doing flips.

"Just Kade?" She gapes at me. "Do you even know who Kade Sterling is?"

"Not really," I admit. *And I don't care.*

"Kade Sterling is one of the hottest and richest men in New York—hell, the entire country. Women would leave their husbands for a chance with him."

"That's ridiculous," I say, brushing off her exaggeration.

"It's not. He's the envy of men and the talk of every normal person."

*Ouch. Guess I'm not normal.*

"Oh, my gosh, he's coming to the counter," Vickie whispers excitedly, clutching my arm.

I glance up. Sure enough, Kade is making his way toward us, his stride slow and deliberate. His gray eyes are locked on me, and I can feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

"You care for something?" Vickie asks eagerly when he reaches the counter.

He doesn't answer her. His eyes remain fixed on me.

"Coffee, please," he says after a moment, his deep voice cutting through the tension.

"Alright," Vickie chirps.

"Not you. Let her do it," Kade interrupts, nodding in my direction.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.

"Alright," Vickie mutters, giving me a nudge.

I force myself to move, my legs feeling like lead. "What flavor, please?" I manage to ask.

"One peppermint and one French vanilla," he replies, his tone smooth.

I nod and quickly get to work.

I carry the two cups of coffee on a tray to his booth, careful not to spill. When I reach his table, I glance at the woman sitting across from him. She's stunning—everything I'm not. Her expensive outfit and the confident way she carries herself scream sophistication. She gives me a quick once-over, her expression indifferent.

"Thank you," Kade says, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

I nod curtly and return to the counter, eager to put some distance between us.

Hours pass, and Kade's companion eventually leaves. But Kade remains, seated in his booth, sipping his coffee and occasionally glancing in my direction. His lingering presence makes it impossible to concentrate.

At 6:30 p.m., my shift ends. I head to the backroom to change out of my uniform, letting my hair fall as I run a comb through it. After slipping into my jeans and T-shirt, I leave the restaurant, relieved to be done for the day.

I step outside, taking a deep breath of warm evening air. But my relief is short-lived.

Kade is there, leaning casually against his sleek black car.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice sharper than intended.

He straightens, opening the passenger door. "Get in the car."

"I'm sorry, but I can't," I mutter, attempting to walk past him.

Before I can get far, he grabs my arm, his grip firm but not painful. The warmth of his touch sends an unexpected jolt through me. I glance down, realizing my hands are pressed against his chest. Embarrassed, I pull away quickly.

"Get in," he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I nod as he lets go of my arm. Muttering curses under my breath, I slip inside his car, and he shuts the door behind me. I catch him muttering something as he rounds the car and opens the driver's door, but I'm too flustered to make it out. He slips in, shuts the door, and starts the ignition without a word.

The hum of the engine fills the silence as Kade pulls out of the parking lot and merges onto the road with practiced ease. The city lights blur past us, and though I know I shouldn't have agreed to get into the car with him, I can't help but marvel at the sheer luxury of it.

The windows are tinted so dark that the world outside feels like a distant memory. The interior is immaculate, with seats made of plush leather that almost seems to mold around me. The faint scent of cedarwood and something distinctly masculine lingers in the air—it's intoxicating.

I trail my fingers over the door handle, admiring the craftsmanship. Everything about this car screams wealth and power. It's so unlike my old truck back home—a fact that suddenly makes me feel even more out of place.

"Where are we going?" I ask, but he ignores me, turning on the radio instead.

Frustrated, I look out the window, watching the city blur past.

After a few minutes of silence, he surprises me by speaking. "What did your parents say? Were you hit?"

His question catches me off guard. "Not really," I reply softly.

"But they smashed your phone," he says. It's not a question—it's a statement.

"Yeah," I admit.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "Have you ever stood up for yourself?"

"I can't," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "They're my parents. What can I do? If I fight back, it'll just make things worse."

Kade's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "What the f**k? Parents have no f*****g right to treat their kids like that. They should be arrested for what they've done to you."

I stare out the window, his words swirling in my mind. *Who is Kade Sterling, and why does