Chapter 16
LEO
Thanksgiving morning tastes like ash.
Not because the fire is burning too hot in my father’s study.
Not because Newport is gray and miserable in November.
I sit in the leather armchair across from the fireplace, elbows on my knees, staring into the flames like they're going to tell me how the hell to fix this.
Nothing.
The flames crackle.
The logs split.
And my heart is still a tight, painful knot.
On my phone—which I shouldn’t even check—I see her Cape Cod video again. The one where she's glowing. Gorgeous. Raw. Honest. Strong as hell.
My stomach twists.
She’s healing without me. She’s thriving without me. She’s becoming someone impossible to reach.
And for the first time in my life, I feel insecure.
Really insecure.
Like… I’m not good enough for her.
Not anymore.
Not after what I did.
My knee won’t stop bouncing. My hands won’t stop shaking. I punch the heel of my palm against my forehead.
“Leo?”
My dad’s voice cuts through the storm in my head.
He’s standing by the desk—pressed slacks, sweater, mug of black coffee—calm and collected like always. But his eyes are on me. Searching.
“Son…” He sits in the chair across from mine. “You’re spiraling.”
“No shit,” I mutter into my hands.
He gives a small exhale. “Thanksgiving. Remember? Your mother expects us dressed.”
“I’m not going,” I say without looking up.
“You are,” he replies gently. “It’ll cause a scene if you don’t.”
“She’s having it catered,” I remind him.
“She canceled. Decided hosting three people in a mansion was depressing. Now we’re going to the club. Buffet. Full audience. You know how she is.”
Yeah. I know.
I rake a hand through my hair. “Dad… I can’t deal with her. Not today.”
He studies me a moment. Really studies me.
“Is this about the girl?” he finally asks.
A humorless laugh cracks from my throat.
“The girl. Yeah, Dad. The girl. Jade. The one you pretended didn’t exist for months.”
He peers at me over his glasses. “I don’t pretend, Leo. I observe. And I stay out of your love life unless—”
“Unless I knock someone up, yeah, I know,” I snap.
His brow lifts. “Don’t speak to me like that.”
I inhale. “Sorry. I just… Dad, I’m in love.”
He sits back, arms crossing.
“You’re eighteen,” he says.
“And what, that means my feelings are fake?”
“It means real love feels different when you’re older.”
Now I look up.
“So you’re saying you don’t love Mom.”
His expression changes. Tightens. Pain flickers there. Old pain.
Something ugly and private.
I freeze.
“Dad?”
He looks into the fire before speaking.
“I had an affair, Leo.”
My breath catches.
He swallows hard. “Many years ago. Someone I never should’ve loved, and yet… I did. And when your mother found out, things broke. Maybe permanently.”
“Are you staying together because of money?” I ask.
“No.”
“Because of me?”
The horror hits me in a wave.
“Dad, if that’s true—if you two are miserable because of me—I swear—”
“That’s not it.” He lifts a hand. “She stayed because of image. Status. Her pride. And I stayed because… the woman I loved died. Two years ago. Cancer.”
My chest tightens.
He stares into the fire again.
“Your mother never asks,” he continues. “And I never tell. But she knows every Christmas morning, I leave early and place flowers on her grave.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Raw.
Human.
And suddenly—I get it.
I get him.
I get the self-protective quiet.
The avoidance.
The tolerance of my mother’s cruelty.
The reserved, distant way he exists in this house.
He lost someone he loved.
Someone who wasn’t his wife.
Someone he couldn’t grieve publicly.
And now he lives a ghost of a life.
I lean forward.
“So… you know what it’s like,” I whisper. “To have love. Real love. And lose it.”
He shuts his eyes. Once. Slow.
“Yes.”
“So you understand why I’m losing my damn mind right now.”
He opens them again. “Is this Jade girl that important to you?”
I swallow.
“She’s everything,” I say. Quiet but certain. “And I messed it up. And now she’s—she’s all over the internet. Everyone wants her. And I’m terrified she’s slipping away forever.”
He exhales through his nose.
Then he places a hand on my back.
A father’s hand.
Weighty. Warm. Rare.
“I love you, son,” he says softly. “I know I don’t show it. I’ve been… stuck inside my own grief. My own failures.”
My throat burns.
“But if you want this girl,” he continues, “if you truly believe she’s your chance at the kind of love most people never get… then I’ll help you.”
My head snaps up.
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll help,” he repeats. “Tell me everything.”
So I do.
The slime.
The plot.
The receipts.
The Ohio deepfake nightmare.
The administration cover-up.
The girls’ network of money and cruelty.
The danger Jade’s scholarship is in.
The fact that she turned down six figures because she has integrity none of them will ever have.
When I finish, he’s silent for a long moment.
Then he nods once, decisive.
“I have… connections,” he says carefully. “Powerful ones. I rarely use them. But for this? For you? For justice?”
His jaw sets.
“I’ll look into these girls. Their families. Their money pipelines. Their legal vulnerabilities. And I will make this easier for her. Quietly. Thoroughly.”
My heart slams in my chest.
“Dad—”
“And Leo,” he adds, voice low, “if you want her back… you have my blessing.”
Something inside me cracks open.
Not relief.
Hope.
For the first time in weeks, I feel it.
Small. Fragile. Blinding.
Hope.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods once more.
Now the fire doesn't look like hell anymore.
It looks like possibility.
And one thing is certain:
I’m not losing Jade Bryan.
Not again.
Not ever.