We are not going back

Chapter four

The moment I walked through the front door, I could feel the tension thick in the air. Olivia stood there, arms crossed, her expression dark and unreadable, "You're late," She said, her voice low but sharp, "Like always. Did you have an one on one meeting with her again?"

"I'm just doing my job," I sighed, already dreading where this was headed, "I stayed late at work to finish some things. Then I had to talk with Tyler."

Her eyes flicked to the hickey still visible on my neck, and I could hear the venom in her voice. "Oh, right, Tyler. And what about that?" She snapped, pointing at the mark.

I flinched. I knew this was coming, had been dreading it since I saw the bruise in the mirror this morning. "I don’t remember how it happened, Olivia. I told you, I was really drunk—"

"That’s convenient, isn’t it? Just black out and wake up with a hickey you can’t explain!" Her voice rose, frustration spilling out in waves.

"I didn’t cheat on you!" I shot back, my own anger rising to meet hers. "I would never do that, Olivia. You know me better than that."

"Do I?" She stared at me, her words cutting deep. "Because lately, I don’t even recognize you. Running around with Tyler, hiding things from me—"

"I’m not hiding anything!" I interrupted, my heart pounding in my chest. "You’re the one who’s been distant, who’s been turning into someone I don’t even know anymore. I saw that video of you at the rally, Olivia. The things you said… Who are you?"

Her face twisted with anger, but before she could respond, the sound of a car pulling up outside stopped us both cold.

I froze, the realization hitting me like a punch. "Your family…" I whispered. "They’re here."

Olivia cursed under her breath. "Oh, fuck me. I forgot they were coming today."

The doorbell rang, and just like that, there was no time to process anything. Her father, Richard, and her siblings—Amelia and Oliver—stepped into the house.

Richard's cheerful greeting died as soon as he caught the tension hanging in the air. "Uh, is this… a bad time?"

Olivia didn’t even try to hide her irritation. "It’s fine, Dad," She snapped, her eyes never leaving me. "This is our business."

Richard looked between us, clearly sensing the storm brewing. "Olivia, maybe we should—"

"No," she cut him off, her voice firm. "I’m not done. We’re not done."

I could feel the embarrassment heating my face as Olivia’s siblings awkwardly hovered in the doorway. Amelia, always the concerned older sister, looked worried, while Oliver tried to give me a sympathetic smile.

"Olivia," Richard said more sternly, "enough. We’re here for a week. Let’s not start it like this."

She huffed but didn’t say anything. For a moment, I thought the fight was over. But then Amelia’s sharp eyes zeroed in on the hickey.

"Eleonora," she said, stepping closer, "let me take a look at that bruise."

I blinked, taken off guard as she approached, her doctor instincts kicking in. "It’s nothing," I muttered, but Amelia was already gently pressing her fingers against the bruise, her brow furrowed in concentration.

After a few moments, she pulled back, looking thoughtful. "It’s not a hickey. It’s blunt force trauma—probably from a fall."

I exhaled shakily, relief washing over me, but Olivia still looked skeptical.

"You’re sure?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still holding that edge.

Amelia nodded. "Yes. It looks like she fell and hit her neck. Probably onto something hard, like a table or a chair."