Chapter 123 See Yourself Out The kitchen clock ticked too loudly for a house this big. Each second that passed made the air feel heavier, pressing against my chest until it hurt to breathe. Penny was near the island, her hands trembling as if she was holding on to the edge of something that was already slipping away. “What did you say?” Her voice was small, strangled—like she wasn’t sure the words she’d heard were real. I pinched the space between my eyebrows, the start of a migraine crawling behind my eyes. “Penny, I think you should leave now,” I said quietly. “This isn’t going anywhere.” But she didn’t move. Her eyes, usually sharp and bright, were wide and wet now. “I’m not going anywhere, Roman!” Her voice cracked, rising in a way I’d never heard from her before. “What the hell did you just say about my sister?” I gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening. God, why did I ever think inviting her over was a good idea? I’d wanted peace—a good time and a couple of laughs, maybe—but this was anything but that. Extending an olive branch was the wrong thing to do today. “Penny,” I tried again, lowering my tone. “Please. Stop.” “No,” she said sharply. “You don’t get to throw something like that at me and expect me to just walk away. I want you to repeat it.” I stared down at the granite surface, wishing I could find the words that would undo this mess. But there was no easy way out. No gentle truth. I shut my eyes. “Your sister,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “was sleeping with my brother, Penny.” The silence that followed could’ve swallowed the whole house. Penny gasped softly. “No… no, she wouldn’t.” She shook her head in disbelief. “She’d never do something like that. Dahlia loved you, Roman. She would never cheat on you. I knew my sister.” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Well, she did,” I said, more bitterly than I intended. “And the sooner you accept that, the better for both of us.” I started walking toward the living room, desperate for distance—for oxygen—but her voice stopped me. “Which one?” she whispered, her voice trembling like she already feared the answer.I paused mid-stride. My shoulders tightened. “Which of your brothers was she sleeping with?” I didn’t turn around. “You really want to know? You want me to say it?” “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” she said shakily. The truth clawed its way up my throat. When I finally spoke, the words felt like they were tearing something out of me. “Your then-fling.” A sharp inhale, then nothing. Silence again—only the sound of the clock ticking between us. When I finally turned, she was staring at me like I’d just told her the sky had fallen. “No,” she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s not true. You’re lying.” “Believe whatever you want,” I muttered, brushing past her. “See yourself out when you’re done.” But before I could reach the hallway, she grabbed my sleeve. Her fingers were trembling. “Roman, wait.” I exhaled heavily and turned. “What now?” Her eyes were red, desperate. “How do you know? What proof do you even have that Dahlia was sleeping with Reese? You think she’d do that to me? She knew I was entangled with him then.” Her voice broke. “She knew.” I pulled my arm from her grip, more gently this time. “Penny, stop. Go home. You’re hurting yourself.” She shook her head violently. “I don’t care anymore! Just answer the damn question!” “What else do you want me to say?” My voice rose without permission. “I’ve tried to get you to go home, but you just don’t listen!” She flinched, but I was past the point of restraint. The anger wasn’t at her—it was at myself, at Dahlia, at the rotten truth I’d carried for years like poison in my own blood. “Yes!” I shouted. “It’s true! Dahlia was sleeping with your boyfriend behind your back!” Penny’s face went white. “And he got her pregnant!” The words tore out before I could stop them. “Reese was Naomi’s father. Not me!” For a second, I wished the world would stop spinning. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Then, slowly, she sank onto the cold tile floor, her knees giving out beneath her. A tear slid down her cheek, catching the light as it fell. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Her voice cracked on the last word. I stood there, frozen. I’d thought telling her would feel like a release, like setting fire to a secret that had burned me for too long. But watching her fall apart—watching the disbelief twist into grief—was agony. “Penny…” I crouched down, keeping a few feet between us. “I’m sorry.” She hugged her knees to her chest, staring blankly at the floor. “You’re lying,” she murmured again, but it sounded less like denial and more like a plea. “You have to be.” “I wish I was.” Her breath hitched. “When did you find out?” I leaned back against the counter, exhaustion pulling at every muscle. “The day before Dahlia died,” I said quietly. “I confronted her about it that night. She didn’t even deny it.” I lied. Penny’s head lifted slightly. Her eyes were wide, glistening. “You mean—she admitted it?” “She implied she didn't mean to.” I swallowed. “Said it was a mistake that stopped being a mistake. She wanted to tell you herself, but…” I trailed off. She looked like she might shatter if I finished that sentence. So I held myself back. And held back any other thing I was supposed to say. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. “You think I wanted to know that? You think I wanted to live with that image in my head—my brother and the woman I thought I’d spend my life with?” Penny didn’t answer. She was trembling too hard to speak. For a long while, neither of us said anything. The clock kept ticking. Outside, a car passed by, its horns bouncing briefly over the kitchen wall before speeding off. Finally, she whispered, “Reese doesn’t know—about Naomi— does he?” I shook my head. “No. And he never will—not if I can help it.” Another lie. Reese knew. That son of a bitch knew.