My mother’s voice sharpened with practiced patience. “Hadley. Now.”
I felt myself wavering, the ingrained pull toward obedience tugging hard at my chest. But before I could force a single word past the knot in my throat, Thayer shifted his stance, placing his body more fully between my parents and me without making it look like a deliberate barrier.
The movement was subtle but somehow changed the entire power dynamic in the entryway. My father’s shoulders stiffened, and my mother’s perfectly manicured fingers tightened on her handbag strap.
Then Thayer murmured, “She’s not going anywhere.”
My father’s brows drew together. “Excuse me? This is a family matter.”
“It stopped being a family matter the moment you showed up at my door demanding she leave with you. Not because you care about her well-being, but about how it looks.” There was steel in Thayer’s tone. “Hadley is safe here. She’s staying.”
My mother let out an incredulous laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Safe? With a man who runs with a motorcycle club? Doctor or not, the associations alone are toxic. We have a reputation to protect, and so does our daughter. She has obligations. A future that does not include…whatever this is.”
Thayer’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re worried about reputation? Interesting. Because I know things about Hadley’s past that might make your carefully built image look a lot more fragile than a few pictures of her with me.”
I blinked, confusion cutting through the anxiety churning in my stomach. I had no idea what he could be talking about.
My father’s chest puffed out. “I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re overstepping.”
“Am I?” Thayer tilted his head slightly, still perfectly composed. “Shell company payments. A surgeon who lost his license for unethical work. Ring any bells?”
My mother’s complexion paled beneath her flawless makeup. My father’s jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle jump. For the first time in my life, I watched both of them falter.
They exchanged a lightning-fast glance, the kind they used during tense campaign strategy sessions when something threatened to derail the narrative.
My mother recovered first. “This conversation is inappropriate and none of your concern. Hadley, we’ll discuss this at home.”
“She’s not leaving,” Thayer repeated. “And if you push this, I’ll make sure every detail I’ve uncovered sees the light of day. Optics, right? You understand how that works.”
The silence that followed was deafening. My father’s shoulders dropped a fraction, and my mother’s fingers loosened on her bag. They were backing down. Not because they suddenly cared about my happiness, but because Thayer had just shown them he held something over their heads.
I was the only one out of the loop on whatever they were talking about.
“We’ll give you time to think, Hadley. But this isn’t over.” My father looked at Thayer, cold calculation in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re involving yourself in.”
Thayer didn’t flinch. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
My parents turned and walked back to their sleek black car without another word. I stared at the empty doorway, confusion and unease swirling through my head.
“Thayer.” My voice came out small. “What was that?”
After shutting the door behind them, he turned to face me, his calm mask slipping just enough for me to see the fierce protectiveness burning underneath.
“You’re staying with me. Permanently.”
I stared up at him, my heart still hammering from the confrontation with my parents. “Why? If this is just about keeping me safe from some vague danger, then tell me what’s going on. I deserve to know.”
Thayer watched me for a long beat, then exhaled slowly. “You’re right.”
He took my hand and led me into the living room without another word. Then he sat on the big leather couch and pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling his thighs, my hands resting on his chest. The position felt intimate, like he needed me close while he delivered whatever blow was coming.
His palms settled on my hips, his thumbs stroking slow circles through the thin fabric of my leggings. “I was going to tell you last night at dinner, but…”
My cheeks heated at the memory of what had distracted him, but I nodded for him to go on.
“Jax has been digging. Your medical records don’t add up. The scar on your temple wasn’t from a childhood accident. It was a botched surgery meant to hide something—an identifying mark. The surgeon who worked on you lost his license years ago for unethical cuts.”
“I don’t understand.” I touched the scar with trembling fingers. “Why wouldn’t my parents get me proper medical care?”