Chapter 224 Chapter 224.

She felt the words before she understood them. A sharp, cold sensation settled beneath her ribs.

He knew.

The news was everywhere.

Her name was trending. Her pictures were being shared by strangers. People were making assumptions about her life, her character, and her relationships.

She had spent the morning trying not to look at any of it. And now her father had called to make sure she couldn’t escape it.

"How did you get this number?" she asked.

"I still have people who know how to find you. Also, I was waiting for you to call, demanding money you never worked for."

The casualness of the answer made her skin crawl. "Don’t contact me again."

"You’re being dramatic."

Kylie laughed. It came out brittle. "Of course."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Don’t start with the attitude. Keep this attitude up when you call for money. I called, so listen."

Her fingers curled around the phone.

"What do you want?" she repeated.

Her father sighed. "I wanted to see how you were doing. Is that a crime?"

"You’re not calling to see how I’m doing."

"Oh?"

"No."

"Then what am I calling for?"

Kylie closed her eyes. She could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this. She never imagined he would still be who he was, after all these years. Seeing him with a new family at the movjes made her believe he might had changed.

He had found a wound, and he was pressing it to see whether she would bleed.

"I saw the pictures," he said.

She said nothing.

"Quite a few of them, actually. You look very comfortable with him."

Kylie swallowed. "I don’t want to talk about this."

"Why not? I’m curious."

"I’m not interested in what you’re curious about."

"Still so rude."

Rude? That was what he had chosen to call her.

"Is he married?" her father asked.

Kylie’s jaw tightened. "No."

"Engaged, then?"

She didn’t answer.

Her father hummed. "I thought so."

Kylie stared at the floor. "Go on. Say it." She pressed her lips together. "I don’t have time for this," she said.

"Then make time."

Kylie pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it.

For one moment, she considered ending the call again. Then his voice came through the speaker.

"Tell me something, Kylie. What exactly do you expect your younger sister to learn from you?"

Her fingers went numb. She slowly raised the phone back to her ear. "What?"

"You heard me."

"No. I want you to repeat it."

He sighed as if she were exhausting him. "Your younger sister. What do you expect her to learn from you?"

Kylie stared straight ahead.

The room seemed to have shifted.

The furniture was still where she had left it. The curtains hadn’t moved. The sunlight still stretched across the floor. But she felt as though she were standing in a house that no longer belonged to her.

"She’s not my sister," Kylie said.

The words came out before she could stop them.

A small silence followed. Then her father laughed. "Oh, Kylie."

Her throat tightened.

"That’s an ugly thing to say." He said. "She’s still a minor. She looks up to people. She needs examples of how a woman should conduct herself."

Kylie gripped the edge of the coffee table.

"And what does she see when she looks at you?"

Kylie shook her head.

"She sees a girl who spends her time at parties, dressing up for men, and now—"

"Stop it."

"—chasing a man who is engaged because he has money."

"STOP."

The word tore out of her. Her chest rose and fell. She had shouted. Again. She had actually shouted.

For a second, she expected the familiar reprimand. The anger, and the lecture about respect.

Instead, her father laughed again. Almost fondly.

Kylie felt something inside her crack. "I don’t deserve what you’re doing to me right now," she whispered.

She moved away from the coffee table. Her legs felt unsteady. She could hear her own breathing.

She could hear the blood rushing in her ears.

"You know," he said, "I really did hope you’d grow out of this."

Kylie stared at the window. "Grow out of what?"

"This need for attention."

She went still.

He continued, his voice smooth and measured.

"Everything has to be about you. The parties. The clothes. The noise. The way you dress. The way you behave. You want everyone looking at you, and then you act offended when they do."

Kylie felt her stomach turn. "That’s not—"

"Now look at what’s happened. Your name is all over the internet. People are saying things about you. And instead of taking a step back and asking yourself whether you’ve done anything to encourage this, you want to be angry with everyone else."

He paused, then went on. "Tell me, did Ben really r*pe you as you claimed or did you seek his attention and called it r*pe afterwards because you needed more attention?"

Kylie couldn’t answer. She had heard those words before.

Her father’s words from when she was eight rang in her ear.

’You brought this on yourself. You asked for attention. You should have known better. You have no one to blame but yourself.’ He had said these words to her when she had come to him after Ben, a son of his friend, had assaulted her on the 4th of July holiday.

She had heard it when she was younger.

Kylie pressed her hand to her chest. It felt tight. Too tight. She tried to take a deeper breath, but it wouldn’t come.

"Are you listening to me?" her father asked.

She forced herself to speak. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what?" He asked. "I’m trying to help you."

He went on. "Just like Ben, are you trying to run after Christian just to frame him afterwards?"

Kylie swallowed. She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut as her breathing pace quickened.

"Please stop." A tear slid down her eyes.

"Why? Is it not true? Everything anyone does for you, you turn into a reason to resent them. I gave you a home. I raised you. I tried to teach you how to behave, and what did I get in return? Disrespect."

Kylie’s fingers tightened around the phone. "You made me afraid of you." Her voice broke. Her lips trembled. "I wasn’t lying about Ben."

Her father exhaled. "That’s a very convenient story, isn’t it?"

Kylie stared at the wall. He wasn’t going to acknowledge it. He wasn’t going to apologize. He wasn’t going to admit that his friend’s son had hurt her.

"Kylie, don’t be childish."

Kylie ended the call without sparing him another breath. For one second, there was silence.

She threw the phone. It struck the far wall and hit the floor with a sharp crack.

Kylie stood motionless. She stared at the phone lying near the wall. The screen was fractured, and a thin web of cracks spread across the glass.

Her chest seized. She dragged in a breath. It felt too shallow so she tried again.

She got no result.

Her fingers flew to the collar of her sweatshirt. She pulled at it. It felt too tight. Everything was too tight.

The room, the air, and even her own skin. She stumbled backward until her legs hit the couch.

Then she sat down hard.

Her heart was racing. She pressed both hands against her chest, as tears freely spilled down her face.

"Stop," she whispered.

She didn’t know who she was speaking to.

"Stop." She begged the memories to stop.