Page 63 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"Bill, I know this is difficult to hear, but?—"
"Difficult?" Dad's voice rose. "You gave me your word. You looked me in the eye and promised me you'd never touch my daughter."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I pressed myself against the wall, hidden in the shadows of the upstairs hallway.
"She was an adult when it happened," Duncan said. "An adult. And I?—"
"Barely out of high school. My daughter, Duncan. My only child, and you—" Dad's voice cracked as he took a step forward, chest rising with a deep, unsteady breath. "You were supposed to be someone I could trust."
"I never meant for any of this to happen." Duncan’s voice was low, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for impact, eyes flicking to the ground as though he couldn’t bear to meet Dad’s gaze.
"But it did happen, didn't it?" Dad's voice dropped low, but his eyes blazed as he stepped closer. "And then you let her disappear. Let her raise those children alone while you went on with your life.""
"I didn't know about the children." Duncan’s voice cracked, his throat working as he forced the words out. He shifted his weight, jaw flexing, as though trying to contain everything he hadn’t said in four long years.
"Because you didn't bother to find out. You broke my trust, took advantage of a girl who looked up to you, and then you walked away."
The words felt like stones thrown into still water, each one creating ripples that spread outward. I gripped the banister, my knuckles white.
"I'm not walking away now," Duncan said, squaring his shoulders, his voice steady even as a vein pulsed in his temple.
"Four years too late for that, don't you think?" Dad’s voice was tight, his arms crossed, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he stared Duncan down.
I couldn't stand it anymore. I rushed down the stairs to stop the bickering. "Stop. Please, both of you, stop."
They turned toward me, Dad's face flushed with anger, Duncan's jaw tight with restraint.
"This is my fault," I said, the words tumbling out. "I'm the one who left. I'm the one who kept the secret. I was scared and I didn't know what else to do, but none of this is Duncan's fault."
"Ivy—" Dad started.
"No, let me finish. I was twenty years old, Dad. I made my own choices. I came on to him, not the other way around. And when I found out about the babies, I was the one who decided to leave. I was the one who was too afraid to tell you."
Dad stared at me, his face cycling through emotions I couldn't read. Then he turned and walked down the hallway toward the back of the house, and the heaviness in his footfall felt like nails being driven into a coffin.
I heard Mom stirring in the kitchen, her teacup clinking against the saucer.
Duncan stood by the window, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "I should go."
"Please don't." I followed him toward the front door, reaching out instinctively, my steps quickening as panic crept into my chest. My voice caught. "Not like this."
He stopped on the porch, turning to face me. The afternoon sun carved deep lines around his eyes, and I saw the exhaustion there. I reached for him but he took a step away.
"I can't—" He glanced back toward the house. "He's pretty mad."
"I know." My throat felt raw, the words scraping out past the knot forming there as I blinked hard against the sting behind my eyes.
He reached toward me, hesitated, and let his hand drop. "I'll call you later. When things settle."
I gave a small nod, arms locked around my waist as if that alone could hold me together. He walked to his car withoutlooking back. The engine started, a low growl that faded as the black sedan rolled down the street. I watched the taillights blink out behind the trees, the stillness pressing in like a held breath.
The porch creaked beneath my bare feet. I didn’t move.
I didn’t know what would happen next. Dad had stormed off without a word, but the way he’d looked at Duncan—like the betrayal had split him open—made my stomach twist. Would he come back fuming? Shut me out completely? And what would Mom think? Would she blame me for keeping the truth from them? For letting the man who broke their trust back into my life, into our children’s lives?
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. The what-ifs stacked like bricks on my chest. Could Duncan and I survive this? Could we be anything if my father hated him—and maybe hated me a little too?
I wasn’t sure.
