Erin poured another glass of water and set it in front of her. "Here. Drink."
She obeyed, gulping it down in one go. The whiskey was still spinning in her head, and her tongue tasted bitter.
She couldn't afford to stay drunk — not with her kids upstairs. Thank God Erin had taken them out earlier, before she said something she'd regret.
"I don't know if I should be mad at you or him," Kathleen muttered.
Erin sank onto the couch beside her, guilt written all over her face. Of course she felt guilty. She was Wesley's assistant — she knew too much. Even if she didn't know everything, she knew enough.
Erin sighed and reached for her hand. "Please don't be mad. I know I should've said something. But it's not my fault. It's Wesley's."
Kath let out a shaky breath. "He's been lying to me for years. Years, Erin. And the worst part is… it wasn't even another woman. It was—" She swallowed hard. "A man." Her voice cracked. "All this time, I thought maybe I wasn't enough."
"Don't do that to yourself," Erin murmured, squeezing her hand.
"You know I was sixteen when he found me." She stared at the glass in her hands. "I thought he was saving me. Turns out I was just… easy."
Erin's face collapsed into something pained. "Kath… what exactly did you see?"
Kath inhaled shakily. "Ryan Horton. And Kissa."
Erin blinked. "Okay… but did you see Wesley?"
Kath shook her head. "No. But I heard Ryan say they should use Mr. Hills' card. And he handed it over."
Erin groaned softly. "Kitty. That doesn't mean anything."
"What do you mean 'doesn't mean anything'?"
"If Wesley was actually there, you would've seen him. Or heard him. Or something. That could've been any 'Hills.' Even a stage name. People loan out cards all the time in this industry."
"But you just said you 'knew' he was cheating—"
"I said I assumed he was," Erin corrected quickly. "Because you came home falling apart. I thought you caught him red-handed."
Kath sat silently for a long moment, fingers threading through her hair. "It didn't feel like nothing," she whispered. "Not at the time."
Erin sighed too, rubbing her forehead. "Okay. Let's say Wesley is cheating… What are you going to do with that information?"
"Margaret, my neighbor, divorced her husband after he cheated…"
Erin stiffened. "Don't, Kath. Don't finish that sentence."
Kath's voice trembled. "He hurt me…"
"Think past your feelings," Erin said gently but firmly. "Wesley gave you everything. Your family depends on him, whether you like it or not."
She hated that she was right. Wesley had dragged her out of the slums, turned her rags into diamonds.
He paid her father's debts, covered her mother's hospital bills, and funded her brother's military training. Her whole family was tied to his money. Divorce wasn't just hard; it was dangerous.
Her phone vibrated twice on the table. But she refused to move.
"Why aren't you answering?" Erin asked.
"I don't want to."
Erin picked up the phone anyway, reading through it's contents before saying, "It's Wesley. He says 'don't forget the family gathering tonight…' and to make Grandma Bev's favorite snack."
Kath groaned. Even now, he had the nerve to text like everything was normal.
"I should just tell his family he's cheating on me," she muttered.
"You don't know that, Kathleen." Erin frowned as she stretched, standing up. "Come on, I'll help you make the snack. Consider it my apology."
"You'll need more than baking duty to make up for this."
"I'll do whatever it takes." She smiled weakly, pulling out flour and butter.
They started prepping in silence until her phone rang. Erin frowned when she read the message. "It's… Mr. Hills. He needs me."
"Then go," Kath said, pretending it didn't bother her.
She lingered at the door. "I'm sorry, Kath. I'll make it up to you, I swear."
Kath just nodded and turned back to the counter. The house was quiet again; except for the faint giggles upstairs. The triplets were probably chasing each other around their room. She smiled faintly. At least they were happy.
She had just started cutting the butter when she heard the front door creak open.
Her head snapped up.
"Erin?" she called, wiping her hands on her apron.
But there was no reply.
Something twisted in her gut. Still holding the butter knife — a ridiculous protection, but it was all she had — she stepped into the living room.
A tall man stood by the wall with his back turned, one hand in his pocket, staring at her family portrait.
His posture was straight and his black suit looked too expensive for someone who just wandered in off the street.
Her throat went dry. "W-who are you?" she attempted to sound tough, but the anxiousness in her voice betrayed her.
The man turned slowly. When his eyes flicked to the knife her hand, he smiled. Not kindly; but amused. Almost like he was watching a child pretend to be brave.
The man's face was unfamiliar—and yet, somehow, not. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe the way the room tilted—but she swore she'd seen eyes like that before.
"Mrs. Kathleen," he said, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. "Is my brother home?"
Her fingers tightened on the knife. "How… how do you know my name? And how should I know where your brother is?"
Unhurriedly, he stepped closer. The sound of his shoes on the marble floor was deliberate. Making every instinct in her body scream run, but her foot stayed frozen.
"J-just so you know," she stammered, "I'm not alone. My friend—"
"The one who just left?"
Her heart dropped.
"I—she's—she's coming back soon. And my husband's upstairs." she swallowed hard. "He doesn't like strangers breaking in. He—he has a gun. And he's knows how to use—
She trailed off when he laughed. It sounded low and mocking.
'Oh God. He didn't believe me.' Kath thought.
"It's embarrassing watching you lie," he said smoothly. "I know you're alone."
The air seemed to vanish from the room.
"But I'm not here for Wesley."
Her heart thudded. "What?"
His gaze drifted upward, to where faint footsteps still echoed from the ceiling. Then those golden eyes she'd seen before, met hers again.
"I'm here," he leaned in, stopping just a few inch from her face, "to see how grown my children are."