A glimmer of malevolence sparkled in her eyes, one that scared me. One I'd never seen before.
"You're a little whore."
"No, I'm not," I gritted out. I'd never been called such a vile word in my life, and it didn't take long to realize it hurt being called that when I was anything but.
I thought back to my time here so far. The times I’d left my phone unattended. I didn’t think I had to worry when I was home. But I always made sure to lock it before I put it down. And my phone had a passcode on it.
My forehead creased together, my mind running a mile a minute.
The beating of my heart was so loud I could hear it in my ears, pounding away louder than a marching band as my mom's eyes blazed with fire.
She took a sip from her glass and watched me as I hopelessly tried putting two and two together. The air in the room dropped and I grew cold. My stomach rolled with anxiety and I actually thought I might get sick all over the table.
"I found your phone late the other night, you were in the shower and it was sitting on your bed. I felt bad for what I had said…that is, until I read the text messages." An evil smirk slid across her face. "Tsk, tsk, Adrianna. Going after an older man like that. Who knew you had such a promiscuous, trashy way about you. The photos were one thing, but the video? That was icing on the cake." She sipped her vodka. "I planned to apologize, you know." Her eyes hardened. "But I don't apologize to whores."
Planned to apologize.
My lips parted and I fought to keep my face neutral. I swallowed a knot the size of a golf ball and wanted to choke. The back of my neck prickled with heat, and it was in that moment I understood why I had that gut feeling of dread when I arrived home, like it was some sort of intuition this visit would end badly.
"Always were a daddy's girl," Mom said with a slight curve of her lips. She lifted her crystal tumbler near her head. The whites of her eyes were glossy. "I guessed it on the first try."
My face fell. Dread consumed me.
My passcode was my dad's birthday.
The pulse in my neck thumped rapidly. I began to sweat. I took low and controlled breaths like I would if I was doing my floor routine. This was bad. This was very bad.
"Imagine your dad finds out? What do you think he'd do? To you? To his dear old friend?" She pouted and lowered her voice. "He'd take a baseball bat to his face, that's what he'd do."
My lungs constricted. I could hardly breathe. A sinister chuckle rolled off her lips as she finally looked me straight in the eye. She was a polished woman with a heart full of hate.
"He'd probably pull you from your precious gymnastics and send you to an all-girl finishing school." She tapped her chin and looked up at the ceiling. "You know, that doesn't sound like a bad idea, now that I think about it. I could have you out of my hair for good."
I couldn't do anything but sit there and stare. I was up against a woman with a vendetta larger than life and no way to fight it. There was no way I could talk myself out of this, not with the evidence she had.
"What? Cat got your tongue? Don't have anything to say now, Ria?"
"Mom." Holy shit she knew his nickname for me. "Please…"
"I think your dad needs another look at the photos from the newspaper again, sweetheart," she said, the endearment meant to mock me. "The way he holds you, how you look at him… It's as clear as day now. I'm sure I could request a transcript of your cell phone records for your dad as well." She paused, then said, "I was right to use the word slut the other day."
"Why… Why are you doing this?" I asked.
She ignored me.
"Why haven't you asked me for Hayden's sports coat?"
"What?" I asked, confused.
"The jacket Hayden left on your balcony. You said he was looking for it, so why haven't you asked me for it so you could bring it to him?"
My body was cold to the bone, yet my cheeks felt flushed. I chewed my lip