Chapter 22
Alistair
Her father was rambling about some political nonsense, and I let him. I’d take any distraction if it meant easing the tension in the room.
But Francine Shaw wasn’t distracted. She was locked in—watching me, watching Callie, watching the hand I had resting over her thigh. A small gesture, sure, but one that said mine without a single word.
Her eyes snapped to Callie’s face. And I saw it.
The rot beneath the surface.
The mask slipping.
Contempt for her only child.
I almost stood up.
But then Callie did something else entirely.
She didn’t shrink. She didn’t drop her eyes.
She leaned in and kissed me. Soft and sure. Right along the line of my jaw, where she knew I was most sensitive. Her lips barely grazed my skin, but it wrecked me.
It wasn’t for show.
It was for me.
And I felt it—felt her. Not the girl she used to be, trained to cower under her mother’s glare. But the woman she was now. The woman she’d become despite the disdain.
Her fingers tightened around mine.
I squeezed back.
She didn’t have to say anything. I already knew. She was done letting that woman decide her worth. She had me now, and more importantly?
She finally had herself.
?? ?? ??
I’d dragged Callie into the kitchen with me under the guise of helping plate up, but really, I just wanted her away from her mother. That woman couldn’t keep her claws to herself.
Sure enough, Francine had come creeping down the hallway, feigning the need to find the restroom. Her eyes swept the room, searching for Callie like she owned her.
Callie moved, about to step away, probably to show her.
I didn’t let her.
My hand slid around her waist, holding her in place, and I offered Francine a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Calm, polite, but deadly.
“Down the hall, second on the left,” I said smoothly.
Her eyes snapped to mine. She registered the steel under the civility. I saw the moment it landed—saw her face shrivel and her expression darken. She turned sharply, heels clicking as she stomped off like a scolded child.
Worth it. Every second of it.
?? ?? ??
Dinner came with drama, and as the sound of cutlery scraping against porcelain filled the silence, Francine decided to pipe up.
“So, you’re living in sin now, Calista?”
Her voice dripped with false piety—condescending in a way that told me this was the air Callie had been raised to breathe.
She bit into a carrot and a sliver of beef rib, eyes locked on Callie.
Martin kept eating, unbothered. He wasn’t going to go against his wife — not tonight, not ever. To him, her judgment was just polite dinner conversation.
Callie shifted beside me. I could feel the tension coil in her body like a spring — and I didn’t like what that meant for her cortisol levels.
She didn’t know I was barely restraining myself for her sake.
But the bastard devil in me won.
“Callie services my needs in exchange for rent,” I said coolly, sipping my wine. “Don’t you know there’s a cost of living crisis?”
Martin choked on his food.
Callie’s hand landed on my lap, pinching me like that dainty little grip could do a damn thing. I didn’t even flinch.
Francine blinked. “So why marry her?”
There it was. That smug look. That venom tucked behind a holy smile.
But then it vanished. Her eyes flicked to Callie’s untouched wine glass. She scanned the table again—my wine, Martin’s, hers.
Callie’s hand rested on a glass of water.
“She’s pregnant,” Francine hissed, her voice a blade.
Callie looked like Armageddon had arrived. Her hands were trembling in her lap. Her face had gone pale, her throat bobbing as she swallowed the heat rising up her chest.
Martin stared at his daughter with a mixture of shock and something worse—disappointment. He didn’t speak. He never defended his daughter once. The lily-livered piece of shit was no better than his wife.
“Is this how we raised you?” Francine screeched, dropping her cutlery.
The fork clattered, bounced off the plate, and hit the floor with a final ping.
“Is this why you insisted on coming to this godforsaken city? To get knocked up by some godless landlord?”
Her voice cracked with hysteria, finger stabbing the air toward her daughter.
“You’re nothing but a sinful whore,” she spat.
Her hands shook now, fury trembling through her frame.
“You are the devil’s gateway—nothing more.”
I covered Callie’s hands with mine, and she lifted her head.
Beneath those bright blue glasses, her eyes shimmered.
When they overflowed—a single fat droplet rolling down her cheek—I felt a sharp pang in my chest.
I tightened my grip.
And then came the calm. The deadly kind that wrapped around the rage and revulsion building in my gut.
“And you?” I asked smoothly, shifting my gaze to her mother.
“Did you only fuck once, or was Callie the immaculate conception?”
Her jaw dropped.
She turned to her husband for defence—only to find him guzzling his wine, as useless as ever.
“Or did you use contraception?” I went on, tilting my head.
“Because I find it rather curious that Callie was born just seven and a half months after your wedding was registered.”
I winked. “Tsk, tsk.”
Her face spasmed like a distressed asshole coping with food poisoning.
Callie looked between her mother and me.
But the tears were gone.
“She was premature,” she spluttered, but her cheeks were bright red.
“Probably desperate to get away from your rotting soul,” I muttered.
Callie snorted and covered her mouth with a napkin.
All I saw were two sad middle-aged individuals. Francine probably resented Callie for being born and her husband for being stuck with him.
“We’re leaving,” Francine said, standing up to glare at her husband. “I will not be disrespected like this.”
I placed my arm around Callie, my fingers resting on her arm.
“Don't bother coming to our wedding, nor do I want your bullshit near our children,” Callie said flatly.
Francine’s jaw dropped, and she stared at Callie in astonishment.
Clapping wasn't appropriate, so I turned and kissed the top of my baby’s head.
“You can both leave. Forget you ever had me. It would be best for everyone.”
Martin looked dazed.
Francine began screeching at him before storming out of the room. Martin stood up, didn't say a word to Callie and followed her.
They both deserved one another.