His Sweet Betrayal, Her Cold Vengeance

Jenna Hayes POV:

Her eyes, cold and calculating, searched mine. Not for hurt, but for information. She didn't care about the violation, only the fallout. Her world. Her status. Her husband's name.

"It was Dillon," I whispered, the name tasting like ash.

Doris froze. The anger, the frantic energy, drained from her face. A chilling silence filled the room. She stood there, unmoving, for a long moment.

Then, her voice came, quieter now, but laced with a new kind of terror. "Dillon? You fool! How could you get involved with him? Do you have any idea how powerful the Richardsons are?"

She paced, wringing her hands. "His family is untouchable, Jenna! Untouchable! Do you understand? We can't afford to offend them."

"But... he took these pictures," I stammered, my voice barely audible. "He drugged me. How is that my fault?"

Doris stopped, turning back to me, her eyes blazing. "Fault? You think they'll care about fault? He's a Richardson! Even if you had a thousand witnesses, nothing would happen to him. You were his girlfriend, weren't you? A normal couple, as far as everyone knows."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Why didn't you just say no? Why did you let him do it?"

My breath hitched. I stared at her, my mother, the woman who was supposed to protect me, to love me unconditionally. Her words were a new betrayal, deeper than Dillon's. The ice pick in my chest twisted.

She couldn't meet my gaze. She turned away, staring intensely at a spot on the wall. "I'll handle it. I'll make sure these pictures disappear. No one will remember this, Jenna. No one."

"Just... stay quiet. Don't cause any more trouble."

She walked toward the door, her back to me. "The Richardsons have too much influence. We can't risk everything for... this."

The door clicked shut, sealing me in. My gaze drifted to the hallway, where Ethan stood, leaning against the wall, a triumphant smirk on his face. He hadn't just known. He had orchestrated it. He had known exactly how this would play out, what my mother would say, how she would react.

The truth. It didn't matter anymore. Justice. It was a forgotten word in this house.

I slid down the wall, my legs giving out, until I was a crumpled heap on the floor. My body felt like petrified wood, stiff and cold. Two hot tears, the last remnants of my shattered hope, slipped down my cheeks.