Sinner's Grace

Caught

"What did you do to me?" I blurt out, approaching him with frantic steps.

He looks taken aback for a moment, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His gray eyes sweep over me, his expression unreadable.

"What did you do? Why am I wearing your clothes?" I demand, stopping right in front of him. He doesn't flinch, his gaze steady, almost amused.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says calmly, his tone laced with nonchalance.

"What do you mean? Why did I wake up in your bed, dressed in your clothes? Did you do something to me?" My voice cracks slightly as I speak, but I hold my ground.

"What?" He chuckles under his breath, his laugh deep and frustratingly casual. It feels like he's mocking me.

"Are you trying to tell me you wouldn't know if someone touched you?" he asks, his voice sharp and challenging. His words cut through my panic, making me freeze.

"Wait. You thought I took advantage of you?" he asks, his tone incredulous. When I don't reply, his smirk widens.

"Why would I do that?" His arms cross over his chest, and his stance exudes confidence, a mix of coyness and arrogance.

"I thought—"

"You thought I sexually assaulted you?" he interjects, his words hitting like a slap.

"I'm in your room, wearing your clothes. What am I supposed to think?" My voice is softer now, wavering with emotion as I realize I've been crying.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "You're too naive," he mutters.

He turns to leave, but I stop him. "Who changed my clothes?"

"I did." He shrugs. "What? You're shy?"

I gasp, horrified. "Why would you—"

"Jesus! Relax," he interrupts, exasperation creeping into his voice. "My housekeeper changed your clothes. She's forty years old, by the way."

I exhale a shaky breath, relief washing over me, though his bluntness does nothing to soothe my nerves.

"Well, you should have at least knocked before letting yourself in like that. I could have been naked," I snap, trying to reclaim some dignity.

"Huh." He raises an eyebrow and steps closer, his towering presence sending my heart racing. His gray eyes bore into mine as he tilts his head slightly, his voice lowering.

"You're forgetting this is my house, and I don't have to knock before entering a room in my house."

I swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back as he looms closer. The air between us feels charged, his proximity overwhelming.

"I did knock. You were asleep," he says, his voice firm but less sharp now. He sighs, stepping back, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turns to leave.

The door shuts behind him, and I stand there frozen, my heart pounding.

*By the way, where's my dress?*

I grab my phone, and my stomach drops at the sight of twenty missed calls. Dad, Mom, Alina, Nadia. My head spins as guilt crashes over me. What was I doing while my phone was ringing? I've never spent the night out before, and I already know my parents are going to lose it.

*Maybe I deserve it. I shouldn't have gone out last night. I should have stayed home, safe in my room.*

A soft knock startles me, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

The door opens, and a woman steps inside, her demeanor calm and professional. She's probably his housekeeper.

"You're awake," she says warmly. "You need to shower and wear this before breakfast." She places a neatly folded black lace dress on the bed.

"Um... where's my dress?" I ask, hesitating.

"Mr. Sterling asked me to get rid of it," she replies matter-of-factly.

"Sterling?"

"That's his last name," she explains with a nod.

"What's his first name?" I blurt out, momentarily distracted.

"Kade," she says, smiling faintly.

*Kade Sterling.* It suits him. With his sharp features, commanding presence, and aura of danger, it's the only name he could have.

"Thanks," I mumble, watching as she turns to leave.

"There's a pill in the drawer to help with your hangover," she adds kindly before shutting the door behind her.

I glance at the dress on the bed. It's simple yet elegant, far better than the revealing outfit Nadia made me wear last night.

The bathroom is enormous, and everything gleams with luxury. The white marble tiles, the rainfall shower, the pristine fixtures—it all screams wealth. I scrub my body with the expensive body wash, letting the warm water wash away my lingering headache and guilt.

When I'm done, I dry off with the softest towel I've ever touched. Thankfully, my underwear is still intact. I pull on the black lace dress, grateful for its modesty.

I gather my bag and take a deep breath. I have a lot of explaining to do when I get home. I'll probably be grounded. God, that sounds ridiculous—who grounds their adult children?

*My parents do.*

I descend the spiral staircase, my footsteps light as I step onto the last step. The view of the house takes my breath away—walls of translucent glass allow sunlight to stream in, highlighting the pristine furniture and the large swimming pool outside. The decor screams luxury, every detail meticulously curated.

My eyes land on Kade's shirtless figure by the pool, a cigarette between his fingers. He leans against the glass railing, exhaling smoke lazily. My stomach churns. Doesn't he know what smoking does to the human body? Maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he isn't afraid of death.

I stop in my tracks, unable to look away from his toned back. Faint scars mark his otherwise perfect skin, hinting at a story I can't imagine.

"Kade," I call, my voice breaking the silence.

His muscles tense at the sound of his name. Slowly, he turns, exhaling smoke through his nostrils and mouth in one smooth motion. His gray eyes lock on me, sharp and unyielding.

"I'm sorry—Mr. Sterling," I stammer, correcting myself.

He raises an eyebrow as if questioning what I want, the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

"I'm leaving," I say, my voice firmer this time.

"I noticed. You're not eating?" he asks, his tone indifferent.

"I'm fine. Thanks," I reply, but I don't move.

"What did you do to my dress?" I blurt out, the lingering smell of smoke making me nauseous.

"Got rid of it. Don't ever dress like that again. You looked like a slut."

The word stings. *A slut?*

I know last night's dress was revealing, but what does it matter to him? Why does he care how I look? Judging by his house, his cars, and his entire demeanor, the kind of women he surrounds himself with probably make that dress look tame.

"Thanks," I say curtly, turning on my heel.

I walk out of the house, the air outside offering little relief. Two men in suits stand by the entrance, their cold, assessing gazes making me feel exposed. I quickly avert my eyes and hurry away. The cab ride feels agonizingly slow, my thoughts swirling as I rehearse what I'll say to my parents.

By the time I step onto our front porch, dread knots my stomach. I twist the doorknob, bracing myself for what's to come.

"Where are you coming from? Your boyfriend's, right?" Mom's sharp voice greets me. She's standing a few feet away, arms crossed, glaring at me like I'm the devil incarnate.

"Is she back? That little devil called a daughter?" Dad's voice booms from the kitchen.

Alina sits in the dining room, her expression unreadable.

"Go on. Start lying," Mom snaps.

*What am I supposed to say? That I went to a club with Alina and Nadia, got drunk, and ended up in a stranger's house? They'd call me a w***e—or worse.*

"I went out with..." I point to Alina, hoping she'll back me up.

"Alina?" Dad growls, his gaze narrowing.

I gulp, fumbling with my fingers.

"Did she spend the night in a man's house?"

"It's not what you think," I begin, my voice trembling. "I got lost because I couldn't find Nadia and Alina. I met someone who offered to give me a lift, but I didn't know the address—"

"You got lost?" Mom interrupts, stepping closer.

"I'm telling the truth," I insist, inching back toward the door, ready to flee.

"What truth? Alina went down the street to meet some church friends and came back at 9 p.m.," Mom snaps.

My stomach drops. I turn to Alina, but she avoids my gaze.

*How could she do this?*

"Ivy, where are you coming from?"

"I'm telling the truth!"

"You didn't go to a party with your sister. You went to visit your boyfriend to have s*x. What kind of daughter are you? Your bad luck brought us to New York, and now you're bringing more bad luck by sleeping around? Ivy, don't you want to go to college? Don't you want to do something useful with your life?"

Mom's words hit like a whip, and my eyes started to water. I glance at Alina again, silently begging her to say something, but she keeps her head down.

"Oh my God, Ivy!" Nadia's voice cuts through the tension as she walks into the living room, shutting the front door behind her.

"What's happening?" Nadia asks, looking between Mom and me.

"Ivy just came back. She said you took her out," Mom says, her voice laced with accusation.

"Yeah, we went to church," Nadia replies without hesitation.

"And she's just coming back from church?" Dad glares at Nadia, unconvinced.

Nadia sighs, crossing her arms. "Fine. I asked them to go to a party with me."

"Them?"

"Yes. Ivy and Alina. They've been cooped up in this house, and a friend was throwing a party uptown. My boyfriend showed up, and I left with him to talk. Alina left too, but I don't know who she tagged along with. Ivy got drunk and lost, and I couldn't find her since I was drunk too."

"And she woke up in a man's bed, right, Ivy?"

"No—I mean, yes. He gave me a ride because I was stranded and—"

"Drunk," Mom cuts me off, her voice cold.

"Nadia, are you trying to corrupt my daughters? Is that why you came to spend the weekend? To take them to parties and get them drunk?"

"It's not what you think—" Nadia begins.

"Really? You're not a virgin, you have boyfriends, and now you're dragging Alina into your mess. I don't even care about Ivy—she's already a mess!"

Mom's words slice through me like a knife. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my tears.

"f**k you both. I'm just gonna leave," Nadia snaps, storming up the stairs.

"Mind your language, Nadia!" Dad yells after her.

Nadia scoffs, muttering under her breath as she stomps upstairs to pack her bags.

"Ivy, you're grounded. You're staying in your room until you decide to cultivate a little form of dignity and discipline. You won't eat anything for the next three days. Get out of my presence," Mom yells, her words cutting through me like a whip.

*Are they serious? Three days without food? What about Alina? Of course, I'm always the bad one.*

"Dad—"

"Get out!" he barks, his voice echoing through the house like thunder.

I flinch and run upstairs, my heart pounding and my throat tight with unshed tears.

At the top of the stairs, I bump into Nadia, her bag slung over her shoulder. She stops and pulls me into a quick hug.

"I'm sorry about Alina," she whispers. "She's such a dildo." Nadia kisses my cheek softly and pulls back, giving me a small, sad smile.

Before I can respond, she presses a small wad of cash into my hand.

"Keep this. I overheard your mom saying she stopped you from going to therapy. I'm sorry about that," she says, her voice tinged with genuine regret.

"You can use it to eat or get whatever you need. Once we start college, we'll hang out more often. And you can tell me about that hot stranger I saw you with at the club. I didn't get to meet him." She winks, trying to lighten the mood.

I roll my eyes but manage a weak smile. "Thanks, Nadia."

"I'm sorry about my parents," I mumble, my voice barely audible.

She shakes her head. "It's fine. It runs in the family. My mom's like that sometimes too. Be careful, Ivy."

With that, she heads downstairs, her heels clicking against the wooden floorboards.

I sigh and retreat to my room, locking the door behind me. I collapse onto my bed, shoes still on, and press my face into the pillow. Tears stream freely down my face, hot and stinging. Why did I go to that stupid club? Why did I drink that cocktail?

My phone buzzes beside me, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. It's a new text message.

*From Kade: Little Saint, did you get home safe?*

I roll my eyes at his message and toss the phone aside. *How did he even get my number? And why does he have his number saved in my phone?*

Men. Always after one thing. Marcus was proof of that, and I don't want another reminder. Kade is trouble in disguise, and I need to stay far away from him.

My phone buzzes again. Another message.

*From Kade: Where's my T-shirt and sweatpants? Did you take them?*

I can't help but chuckle at his audacity.

*To Kade: No. Why did you steal my number? And why would I want your T-shirt and sweatpants?*

*From Kade: Because they looked sexy on you. Did something happen... you know, with your parents?*

I freeze, my cheeks flushing at his words. *Sexy? Seriously?*

*To Kade: No, thanks. I'm fine.*

*From Kade: Let's hang out. I won't bite.*

I scoff and bite my lip, trying to suppress a smile. Is he serious? Why would he want to hang out with me? I'm plain, boring, and naive. He's dangerous, intimidating, and downright captivating.

*To Kade: No, I'm not interested. I don't even know you.*

*From Kade: It's better you don't know me. I'm outside your house. Get dressed.*

My heart stops. *What?*

*To Kade: You're joking, right?*

*From Kade: Look through your window.*

My heart races as I stand, my body trembling. *What part of 'I'm not interested' doesn't he understand?* I cautiously approach the window and peek through the curtains.

Nothing.

I let out a long breath and lean back against the wall, relief washing over me. I grab my phone to text him.

*To Kade: Why are you lying? Were you trying to give me a heart attack?*

*From Kade: I know your address, Little Saint. Are you scared of me?*

I sigh and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

*To Kade: I don't know what you're talking about. I hung out with you last night, and I ended up getting grounded.*

The message is sent before I can stop it. My cheeks burn with regret. Great. Now he's going to think I'm a child.

*From Kade: Grounded? You're not sixteen, are you?*

I toss the phone onto the bed and groan. Why is he so persistent? My phone rings almost immediately. His name flashes on the screen.

I stare at it for a moment before declining the call.

*To Kade: Please don't call me. I really want to stop talking to you.*

*From Kade: Like you can. You can't avoid me, Princess.*

I roll my eyes and can practically feel his smirk through the text.

*To Kade: I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Sterling, but I don't want you. Stop texting me. I'm not your type of girl. You already made it clear you don't like naive girls. I'm grateful to be out of your league. Whatever you want from me, I'm not interested. Please stay away.*

I press send and bite my nail, anxiety creeping up with every second of silence. Why did I send him that message? I regretted it the moment I hit the button. Kade had been nice—he made sure I slept comfortably, and he even had his housekeeper change my clothes. Sure, he looks like trouble, but he hasn't done anything wrong. Yet.

*But isn't that how it always starts?*

I sigh and stand up, tying my hair into a messy bun before heading to the bathroom. I haven't taken my pills, and I'm already starving thanks to being grounded.

*What about Alina? Why does she always escape the blame? It's always me—Ivy, the bad egg, the disgrace.*

I step out of the shower feeling slightly calmer, only to freeze in horror when I see Alina sitting on my bed, scrolling through my phone.

"What are you doing?" I demand, my voice sharp as I rush toward her.

She smirks, holding the phone just out of reach. "Just confirming my suspicions. I saw you walk out of the club with that hot guy last night, and now this..." She gestures at the screen. "This confirms everything. You've been secretly dating, huh?"

"You have no right to go through my phone. Give it back."

"Why should I?" she teases, batting her lashes mockingly.

I clench my fists, trying to keep my temper in check. "Alina, please. Hand me my phone."

She ignores me, scrolling further. "You know, you're such a weirdo. Remember in high school? You used to beg Nadia to do your makeup just so Marcus would notice you. Pathetic."

Her words feel like a slap. "So you finally admit you knew Marcus?"

She scowls, tossing her perfect hair over her shoulder. "Of course, I knew Marcus. Who didn't? It was so obvious you had a secret crush on him, hanging around him all the time like some lost puppy, hoping he'd look at you the way you looked at him. It's sad, really."

The knot in my chest tightens as her cruel words sink in. "You knew I was r***d, didn't you?" My voice cracks. "You knew, and you didn't defend me."

She narrows her eyes, her smirk turning icy. "Why would I defend you? I don't care about you, Ivy. I never have. Why haven't you figured that out yet?"

Her words hit like a sledgehammer, but she's not done.

"You deserved it," she says coldly. "You're a pathetic mess, and honestly, you look so cute when you cry."

Something inside me snaps. "Give me my phone. Now!"

"I don't think so," she says with a sneer. "You've got yourself another boyfriend, huh? Mr. Kade? You think I didn't see his name pop up? Oh, and let me guess—he's the guy you ran off with last night, right?"

"Alina, don't!" My voice is a desperate plea.

Her smirk deepens as she stands and bolts for the door, clutching my phone tightly.

"Alina!" I scream, chasing after her. But she's already halfway down the stairs.

I hear Mom's sharp voice before I even step out of my room. "Ivy!" she yells, her tone dripping with anger.

I stop dead in my tracks, my heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else. Alina's voice carries, smug and triumphant.

"Mom, look at this. Ivy's been keeping another boyfriend, and his name is Kade. He's the one she snuck off with last night!"

*Oh shit.*