He Said Mine So I Took Him Instead

CHAPTER 4

At first, just a few drops. Then more, hitting my face and sticking to my hair.

My clothes started clinging to my skin almost immediately, but I didn’t stop. I just squinted through it and pushed myself to run even faster, like speed could somehow fix the mess I was already in.

He was definitely going to lose it even more when I showed up looking like a complete disaster, especially in front of his business colleagues.

Like yeah, nothing screams “perfect family image” more than his daughter showing up soaking wet and barely holding herself together.

I shoved a few wet strands of hair behind my ear, but they just stuck to my face again anyway, clinging to my skin from the rain and sweat.

That’s when I realized something weird.

I was crying.

I hadn’t even noticed at first, but the salty taste hit my lips and kind of snapped me out of it.

Instead of slowing down, I just ran harder, like that would magically fix anything.

My legs were burning and my chest felt painfully tight, like my body was finally protesting, but I couldn’t stop.

Not now.

The later I got home, the worse it would be, and I already knew that was just how things worked in my house.

My heart was hammering so hard it wasn’t only from running anymore.

It was fear too.

Pure, crushing fear of what was waiting for me at home, because punishment was never a matter of if.

Only what kind.

For a split second, my pace slowed without me meaning to, like my body was seriously considering giving up and turning around instead.

Like running away was actually an option.

I could run away.

Just disappear and never look back.

The thought wasn’t even new. It had crossed my mind so many times before, always lingering for a few seconds before reality dragged me right back down.

Because running wasn’t just about me.

It would mean leaving my mom alone with him, and I couldn’t do that.

She wasn’t the same person she used to be anymore.

It felt like she had become… quieter somehow, like life had slowly dimmed her into someone who only existed to keep the house running smoothly.

And if I left her alone with him, I honestly didn’t know what would happen.

Part of me believed she was already suffering because I wasn’t there to take some of the pressure away from her.

Through my blurry, rain-soaked vision, I could finally see the start of our street getting closer.

The bus stop sat right at the entrance like a warning sign I couldn’t escape.

And then the house came into view.

Too big.

Way too big for only three people living in it.

Three floors of space that didn’t feel like a home so much as a statement.

But that was exactly the point.

He loved showing it off. Inviting colleagues and clients over just so they could see how wealthy he was, how flawless his life looked from the outside, how much power and control he carried inside one perfect-looking house.

And me?

I was just another part of the display whether I liked it or not.

I came to a stop right in front of the massive white front door, my chest rising and falling so fast it felt impossible to catch enough air.

Even though I had stopped running, my whole body still burned—legs aching, lungs stinging, like my body hadn’t realized I was no longer moving.

My mouth had gone completely dry, and this heavy wave of fear crawled up my throat, almost choking me as I forced myself to move again.

I climbed the three steps up to the porch on shaky legs, my knees knocking together like they couldn’t decide whether to keep holding me up or completely give out.

My hand reached for the copper door handle, but it trembled so badly I could barely keep a grip on it.

One small twist, and the door slowly gave way.

It opened like it wanted to make sure everyone inside noticed me the second I stepped in.

And there he was.

Sitting on the sofa in the living room with three of his work associates in front of him, like it was just another normal evening.

At first, I could only see the back of his head, but I didn’t need to see his face to know exactly who it was.

A glass rested in his hand, filled about a third of the way with what looked like whiskey.

And the second I noticed it, I felt it everywhere inside me.

That awful, sinking drop in my stomach.

He was drinking.