Chapter 268: Giving My Fears A Voice

The restaurant felt quieter all of a sudden, the hum of conversation from other tables fading into something distant and unimportant. I could distinguish the faint clinking of silverware at another table, someone’s low laugh drifting over from near the window. I stared at her.

She didn’t look victorious; she looked almost sorrowful, her composure cracking just slightly at the edges in a way I hadn’t seen from her all night.

"Our parents want him back," she said. "They’ve made mistakes, terrible ones. But they are still his parents."

"They hit him, and you the big sister...didn’t do shit to stop that and protect him." I countered.

Her eyes dropped, and for a moment she looked smaller than the perfectly composed woman who had ordered my dinner without asking. "I...I know, but what could I do really? It’s not like I was spared from the beatings myself growing up."

I went blank at her admission. They hurt her too? What the fuck was wrong with the parents?!

Dianne said, "I was even more rebellious than Damien growing up believe it or not. And my father didn’t hesitate to set me straight with his so called discipline...it gets to a point where you have no choice but to be submissive in the end."

The words landed heavier than I expected, settling somewhere uncomfortable in my chest. I’d walked in here ready to hate her, and now I was sitting across from someone who had apparently survived the exact same house Damien had.

"And you want me to believe they’ll suddenly treat him better?"

"They’ve learned their lesson, I’m sure."

I almost laughed out loud, the sound coming out sharper than I intended. "That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all night."

"I’m serious."

"So am I." I pushed my chair back slightly, the legs scraping softly against the polished floor. "You don’t get to hurt someone for years and then decide you’re ready to be a family just because he stopped going along with it."

Dianne regarded me thoughtfully, her expression unreadable in that same careful way I was starting to recognize as a family trait. "I don’t disagree."

"Then what the hell do you want from me?"

Her answer came softly. "Step back."

My chest tightened. She held my gaze without blinking. "Give Damien a chance to reclaim his life."

I stared at her. "His life?"

"His education. His inheritance. His family. His future."

"And what about me?"

She stayed quiet, and I let out a small laugh, humorless and tired. "Right."

"You’ll be fine."

"Wow."

"I didn’t mean it to be cruel."

"Could’ve fooled me."

"You’ve lived without him before."

I glanced down at the necklace around my neck, the pendant cool beneath my fingertips even through the warmth of the restaurant. Damien had given it to me. My fingers brushed the pendant.

"No," I said quietly. "I existed without him, that’s...that’s not the same."

Dianne’s expression softened, just enough that I noticed. "I know."

"Then don’t ask me to pretend it doesn’t matter."

"I’m not asking you to stop loving him."

"Sounds like you are."

"I’m asking you to love him differently."

I stared at her. "If you stay, the conflict continues. Your father remains vulnerable, Damien stays cut off financially, his education hangs in the balance, and his relationship with his family may never heal."

She paused, letting the words settle between us like something physical.

"If you leave, they have no reason to keep fighting him."

My heart raced, there it was. The same thought that had been haunting me all along—

*If I weren’t here, would they stop?*

Dianne had just dressed it up in expensive clothes and served it with coffee. I hated her for that.

"I don’t believe you." I said.

"You don’t have to."

"Then why tell me?"

"Because someone should."

I looked at her. She was calm, utterly composed, back to the version of herself I’d first sat down across from.

"You love him," she pressed. "So you need to decide whether keeping him is more important than giving him the future he deserves."

"He’s not something I own."

"No." She nodded slowly. "Then let him choose freely."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Tell him you’re leaving."

My stomach dropped. "You want me to break up with him."

"I want you to give him a choice without the weight of your future on his shoulders."

Her calmness was starting to make me want to flip the table, the whole beautifully arranged setting with it. Instead, I sat there staring at my cold, untouched food, the steam already gone, the grilled chicken looking about as appetizing as the conversation.

Dianne reached for her coffee, cradling the cup between both hands like it might offer her something to do with them.

"You don’t have to decide this right now." I looked up as she went on. "But you should."

She set the cup down gently, the porcelain barely making a sound against the saucer. "If you wait until Damien is forced out of Hawthorne and loses everything, while your relationship collapses under the pressure, you’ll both regret not having made the tough choice earlier."

I swallowed hard, the restaurant felt stifling suddenly, the golden lighting that had seemed so elegant when I walked in now feeling close and airless.

"I...I need to go," I said. "I’m tired of all this crap."

Dianne nodded. "I suspected you might."

I stood up, and she looked up at me, her expression unreadable again. "For what it’s worth, Oliver, like I said before...I don’t hate you."

I almost laughed. "That’s supposed to make me feel better?"

"No." She offered a small, weary smile, the first genuinely tired thing I’d seen from her all evening. "I just wanted you to know."

I turned away before she could say anything more.

The moment I stepped outside, the evening air hit my face, cold enough to take my breath away.

I stood on the sidewalk, watching the cars go by while people moved around me, completely unaware that a woman who barely raised her voice had just shaken my entire world.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. Damien’s name was right at the top of my messages.

I could call him. I could tell him everything. I could go home, crawl into bed beside him, let him pull me close, and pretend none of this mattered.

But Dianne’s words lingered in my mind, refusing to fade the way I wanted them to. So did the thought I’d been trying to bury for days.

But now someone else had said it out loud. Someone who knew the Lockwoods. Someone who understood Damien, someone who claimed to want what was best for him.

I stared at Damien’s name on my screen. My thumb hovered over it.

I needed to talk to him.

For the first time since we’d admitted our love for each other, I was scared that loving him might mean letting him go.

And that scared me more than anything.

She didn’t need to threaten me. All she had to do was voice the exact thought I’d been trying not to believe.

Fuck, I’ve never felt so conflicted in my life.