Breaking The Rules

Chapter4

The sounds grew louder and clearer with every step, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Stefan wasn't alone. Given the mounting noise, whoever was in there with him was entirely lost in the moment.

I reached his bedroom door, shaking my head in utter disbelief. I knocked sharply on the wood, though deep down I knew neither of them would hear me over the racket.

Without waiting, I turned the handle and pushed the door wide open.

I froze in my tracks.

Stefan was kneeling on the mattress in just his broad shorts, his back turned to me. Beneath him was a girl, one of the endless stream of random dates he brought around whenever the house was empty. She was face-down on the bed, her hands gripping the sheets, completely oblivious. Stefan had one hand pressed firmly against her back and the other tangled in her hair.

A wave of intense irritation and nausea washed over me.

“Oh yeah, Stef … right there, f*k me harder,” the girl gasped.

Neither of them had even noticed the door swinging open.

“Stefan,” I snapped, my voice cutting through the heavy air.

Nothing. He was too far gone to hear a quiet warning.

I stepped fully inside the room and slammed my palm hard against the door frame. “Stefan, what the f*k!”

He spun around, chest heaving and slick with sweat. I expected him to panic or scramble for clothes, but he just stared at me as if I were a ghost.

“Are you out of your mind?” I asked, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

I snapped my fingers sharply in front of his face. That finally broke his trance. He jumped, hurriedly yanking up his shorts. Beside him, the girl scrambled under the duvet like a burrowing animal, pulling it straight over her head.

“Uhm … sis?” Stefan rasped, running a hand through his messy hair. “What are you doing here?”

“Ask me that one more time, and you won't be talking for a week,” I fired back. “What is wrong with you?”

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“You have ten minutes to clear this out,” I said, gesturing vaguely around the cluttered room. I gave them both one last glaring look before turning on my heel and walking out.

---

Downstairs, I poured myself a tall glass of ice water, my hands still faintly trembling from anger and sheer exhaustion. A few minutes later, heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Stefan strolled into the living room alone.

“Go back up there and get that girl out of the house,” I ordered, setting my glass down on the counter.

“She has already left,” he said casually, throwing himself into the plush armchair.

“Don't lie to me. I’ve been standing right by the entryway the entire time. She couldn't have walked past me.”

Stefan knitted his brows, giving me an amused look. “Who said she used the front door?” He shrugged. “She went out the window.”

I stared at him, bewildered. “The window? You're obsessed with keeping those locked!”

“Desperate times, sis. Besides, you're not new to how I operate. I didn't think you were coming home today.”

Before I could tear into him again, a sharp car horn blared from the driveway outside. Mum and Dad were back.

“We are far from done with this,” I warned, turning toward the front door as the headlights swept across the living room window.

Mum and Dad walked through the door, their casual clothes making it clear they hadn't been anywhere fancy.

“Hi Mum, hi Dad,” I greeted, stepping forward.

They both stopped and stared at Stefan and me with raised eyebrows.

“Were you two arguing?” Mum asked, eyeing us suspiciously.

“No. Actually yes, but it's nothing to worry about,” I said quickly. “Anyway, you two look gorgeous,” I added, instantly diverting their attention.

Dad grinned widely, pulling me into a warm, familiar hug before patting the top of my head. I couldn't help but laugh; he never skipped that routine. He always said it reminded him of when I was still a little girl.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Mum said, folding her arms with fake indignation. “So you only hug your father now?”

“Ah, that’s not true, Mummy!” I laughed, stepping out of Dad's embrace to wrap my arms around her.

“No, don't hug me now. Your dad has already got all the love.”

“Is that jealousy I smell?” Dad teased softly.

“In your dreams,” Mum retorted, though a warm smile broke across her face.

Once the greetings settled, they sat down in the living room and asked after Tony, giving me the exact opening I needed to lay out the reality of our financial nightmare.

I took a deep, steadying breath, letting the warmth of the family room fade as I forced the hard, brutal words past my lips. I explained the sudden audit, the falsified transaction, the Daniels Group, and the ticking five-day clock.

“This is serious,” Mum said after I explained the $2 million legal settlement and the shrinking deadline. She sat upright on the sofa, all playfulness completely drained from her face.

For a long moment, Dad didn't say anything. He just stared at his coffee table, his jaw tightening until a muscle ticked in his cheek, a habit I had inherited from him. When he finally looked up, his eyes were sharp, calculating, and laced with quiet fury.

“Two million is a staggering amount of liquid cash to pull together on short notice,” Dad said, his voice deep and steady. “Even for us. But Tony is part of this family. If someone is trying to sink him with a manufactured scandal, we don't sit back and watch.”

“I know,” I said softly, a wave of immense relief washing over me. “And right now, we don't have time to argue about who was right or wrong. We just need to secure the funds first.”

“Has anyone else offered to help? Any friends or outside investors?” Mum asked, searching my face with deep, searching concern.

“No one, Mummy,” I lied cleanly.

My stomach twisted into a tight, sickening note as the falsehood left my lips. I couldn't bring myself to mention Harrison. I knew my parents would be horrified by his predatory proposition, and I refused to add that unbearable burden to their shoulders when they were already terrified of Tony's future.

“We’ll liquidate whatever assets we have to …,” Dad started to say, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.

Bzzz.

My phone, sitting face-down on the glass coffee table, violently vibrated against the wood.

I froze.

Slowly, I reached out and turned the screen over. A single, unknown text message was glowing against the dark display, cutting straight through the quiet room:

“Four days left, Sandra. Have you decided how much your husband's dignity is worth yet? — H.”

My breath caught permanently in my throat.