Breaking The Rules

Chapter5

Mum caught the sudden shift in my posture, her eyes narrowing with sharp maternal intuition. “Is everything okay, sweetie?” she asked, tilting her head.

I forced my face into an unconvincing, breezy smile, quickly flipping the phone over so the screen went dark. “Yes, everything is fine. It’s just something that needs my attention back at the salon.”

Mum blinked, though she clearly didn't look entirely convinced.

Dad cleared his throat, picking up right where he left off before the interruption. “As I was saying, the issue is that we simply don't have that kind of money sitting around,” Dad said, speaking up for the first time. Characteristically quiet, he had spent the last few minutes staring at the floor, clearly calculating every option.

“Exactly,” Mum agreed, letting the subject of my phone drop for the moment. “Two million dollars is a massive sum. I don't know anyone who can pull that together on short notice.”

“Whatever you can spare will help,” I urged gently, my heart still hammering against my ribs from Harrison's text. “We're trying to piece it together from different sources.”

Dad looked up and met my eyes. “Send me Tony’s business account details before you leave. We’ll talk to a few close friends and see what we can gather.”

My heart leaped with a fraction of relief. It wasn't the full amount, but it was real progress. With four days left on the clock, every bit brought us closer to our breathing room. I reminded them about the tight deadline, stressing how urgent every hour was.

Later in the evening, we settled down for a late family lunch. Before six o'clock, I was packing my bag to head back.

“I thought you were staying the night,” my younger sister, Viola, muttered, leaning against the doorway with a pout.

“I wish I could, sweetheart,” I said, smoothing her hair. “I have to handle things back home, but I promise I’ll stay longer next time.”

“Better,” Stefan said quietly, though I heard him clearly. I turned to glare at him, but he kept a straight face like he hadn't said a thing.

“Jesus Christ, you two,” Mummy yelled from her seat.

“I don't blame you, Stefan,” I muttered under my breath.

Turning to Mum and Dad, I added, “I didn't tell Tony I’d be staying over anyway, and we have dozens of calls to make tonight to keep searching for funds.”

Dad walked me out to my car as dusk began to settle over the driveway.

“Everything is going to work out,” Dad said softly, pulling me into one last reassuring hug. “Don't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, okay?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” I murmured, biting back my anxieties. “I’ll call you the moment I get home.”

---

The house was dark and quiet when I pulled into the driveway; Tony hadn't made it back yet.

After a quick shower, I grabbed my phone and called Deborah. She picked up on the second ring. Needing an outlet, I spilled everything to her, my trip home, the text from Harrison that I barely dodged answering, and my parents' promise to help. She was my best friend, someone I trusted blindly.

Or at least, that was what I believed at the time.

A few minutes after I hung up, the front door clicked open. Tony walked in, his shoulders slumped with fatigue. I went over immediately, wrapped my arms around him, and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. When I shared the news about my parents, his tired face lit up with genuine surprise and relief.

“Why so shocked?” I asked, leaning back slightly. “You didn't think they'd help?”

“It’s not that,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “I’m just relieved to hear good news. My dad’s response wasn't something we can rely on.”

My stomach churned. “What happened?”

“I forgot that this is the quarter he locks up his capital in new investments,” Tony explained, stepping toward the stairs. “His liquidity is almost zero right now, though he said he’d try to liquidate what he can.”

“Go freshen up,” I said, forcing a faint smile to hide my growing dread. “I’ll microwave dinner for you.”

As I walked into the kitchen, a cold, suffocating voice echoed in the back of my mind, telling me that no matter what we tried, we wouldn't raise two million dollars in four days.

My mind flashed back to what Harrison had said to me days ago, the moment that planted the seed of this waking nightmare.

******

It was around 7:00 p.m. when the front chime of my salon shop rang. My secretary was at the reception desk wrapping up her end-of-day reports, and I was in the back hallway tidying up after my final appointment.

I expected it to be a straggling client or someone asking for opening hours, but the heavy, deliberate footsteps approaching the back corridor made my stomach do a nervous flip. The rich, familiar scent of sandalwood cologne drifted down the hallway before he even came into view.

Harrison leaned against the door frame of my private styling room, dressed in a sharp tailor-made suit, his hazel eyes fixed on me with that signature, unbothered smirk.

"You really shouldn't be working so late, baby girl," he said smoothly, resting his arm on the door frame. "A woman like you deserves someone to pamper her at the end of the day, not sweep floors."

I tightened my grip on the hair towel in my hands, trying to keep my voice flat, "Harrison said. What are you doing here? My shop is closing."

"I was in the area," he said, taking a slow step inside. His eyes roamed down my body with unapologetic appreciation. "And I couldn't resist dropping by to see my favorite view."

"I've told you a hundred times, I'm married," I snapped, trying to ignore the way my pulse spiked under his gaze. "I'm not interested in whatever game you're playing."

"It's not a game," he murmured, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating off him. "You keep pushing me away, Sandra, but your eyes tell a completely different story every time I walk into the room."