Once, my paranoid love

My dad’s gaze never wavered as he spoke, each word carrying the weight of a difficult truth. “I have to sell our home,” he said, the words resonating like a heavy tolling bell in the silence that followed.

“It’s a huge amount of money. Everything has to be sold. Otherwise, we won’t be able to do anything.” My dad’s words hung in the air like a heavy cloud of inevitability. The weight of the situation settled on my shoulders, and the reality of our circumstances pressed down on me like a suffocating weight.

I looked at him, my heart aching at the distress that marked his features. The home we had cherished, the life we had known-it was all slipping through our fingers, sacrificed to the demands of an insurmountable debt.

“Dad,” I called out to him softly, my voice carrying a mixture of sadness and determination.

He turned to me, his eyes reflecting the turmoil that churned within him. “Sorry, honey,” he said, his voice laced with regret. “Mr. Huston will kill us or put me in jail if we don’t do it.”

The name echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of the man who had orchestrated our downfall. The desperation in my father’s voice told me just how dire our situation was. The weight of his words settled over me like a shroud, a suffocating reality that left little room for hope.

“Huston!”

“Yes,” Dad said in a worried tone.

I took a step closer to him, my heart aching at the anguish he was carrying. “Dad, I can’t bear to see you like this,” I confessed, my voice trembling. “But there has to be another way. We can’t just lose everything.”

He reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder; his touch was a mixture of comfort and reassurance. “Elena,” he said, his voice soft but heavy with the weight of responsibility, “I’ve explored every option. This is the only way to protect us from the mess I’ve gotten us into.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as the gravity of the situation pressed down on me. Our family, once a unit bound by love and shared experiences, was now fractured by the consequences of choices we hadn’t anticipated. The fear of losing our home, the fear of losing my father to the clutches of despair-it was all too much to bear.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“I won’t let you go to jail, dad. I’ll speak with Mr. Huston,” I stated firmly, my resolve unwavering. The thought of my father suffering the consequences of a situation he was cornered into was unbearable. I was determined to find a way out, to confront Mr. Huston, and to salvage what we could.

Dad’s eyes met mine, a mixture of gratitude and concern reflecting in his gaze. “It’ll be a waste of time,” he responded with a heavy sigh. “We’ve tried it repeatedly. We’ve got to sell everything, baby.”

His words landed like a blow, a stark reminder of the obstacles we faced. The weight of our situation pressed on me-the impending loss of our home and the devastation of my father’s spirit. But I couldn’t simply give in; I had to fight for our family’s future.

Before I could respond, Anne’s voice cut through the air, her tone a mix of surprise and concern. “What are you saying, Robert?” Her interjection was swift and impassioned, and I could see the shock in her eyes. Anne had always been a master manipulator, but the prospect of losing everything seemed to have caught even her off guard.

Dad’s gaze shifted towards Anne, his expression a mixture of resignation and determination. “Anne,” he began, his voice tinged with a sadness I hadn’t seen before, “we’re left with no choice. It’s the only way to settle this.”

Anne’s eyes narrowed, a flash of anger crossing her features. “No, Robert, you can’t just give up like this! I won’t let you do it.” Her words held an urgency that was almost desperate, as if the prospect of losing their luxurious lifestyle had ignited a fire within her.

“You know the way,” Anne said.

“Stop it, Anne! With my daughter, I can’t do it,” Dad’s voice rang out, a mixture of anger and frustration lacing his words. The tension in the room was palpable as his outburst silenced Anne’s proposal.

I watched the exchange with a mixture of surprise and concern. My father’s emotional outburst was a rare sight, and the intensity of his reaction spoke volumes about the proposal that Anne had just put forth. It was clear that whatever she had suggested was something he vehemently opposed.

“What exactly do you mean? What’s wrong?” I asked, looking at my dad with a sense of wonder. The unspoken tension between them had come to the surface, and I was eager to understand the source of their disagreement.

Dad took a deep breath, his gaze shifting from Anne to me. He seemed to struggle with his words for a moment before he finally spoke. “Elena, whatever Anne is suggesting-it’s not something that’s in your best interest. I can’t let you be a part of it.”

My curiosity deepened, and a mixture of concern and determination welled up within me. I needed to understand the context of their conversation to uncover the motives that were at play. I turned to Anne, my gaze steady as I sought answers. “You can save your father, Elena,” Anne remarked quickly, her tone almost urgent.

The words hung in the air like a puzzle piece that I was struggling to fit into the larger picture. The dynamics in the room had shifted dramatically, and I was caught in the crossfire of their conflicting intentions.

“Dad, I need to know what’s going on,” I insisted, my voice firm. “Ms. Anne, explain.”

Anne’s gaze flickered between us, her expression a mix of frustration and calculation. “Elena, there’s a way to settle this without losing everything,” she began, her voice taking on a persuasive tone.

“I told you to stop, Anne!” Dad’s voice thundered through the room, the weight of his frustration and concern punctuating the air. The tension in the room had reached a breaking point, and the strain between my father and his wife was palpable in every word they exchanged.

“Why? Why are you putting yourself and us in danger when we have a good option to rescue everything?” Anne’s voice was a tempest of emotions, her anger and desperation colliding in a torrent of accusations. Her gaze bore into my father, demanding answers that seemed to evade her grasp.

Amidst the storm of their confrontation, Anne abruptly shifted her focus, her steps hastening as she closed the distance between us. In an unexpected movement, she grabbed my hand, her grip urgent as if she were clinging to a lifeline. “Elena,” she implored, her voice a hushed plea, “you can save your dad if you only do a tiny thing.”

Her words echoed in my ears, a cryptic promise that held both mystery and trepidation. The intensity of her plea reverberated through me, and I found myself caught in the whirlwind of her desperation. What could this “tiny thing” be? And what did it entail?

“Dad!” My voice was a mixture of shock and confusion as I watched the argument unfold between my father and Anne. The intensity of their conflict had escalated, leaving me grasping for understanding as to why they were at odds.

Dad’s yell cut through the tension, his frustration evident in the harshness of his tone. “Anne!”

I felt like a spectator caught in the middle of a storm, unable to comprehend the motives behind their clash. I struggled to reconcile the image of my usually composed father with the man before me, his anger and anxiety laid bare.

Anne’s voice pierced through the silence that followed, her words laced with exasperation. “You can’t do this with us either, Robert. Listen, I won’t let you do it.”

Her tone was tinged with a mixture of defiance and desperation, as if her own motivations were equally complex.

Then, in an instant that seemed to unfold in slow motion, the atmosphere shifted once again. The room was filled with a resounding slap, the sound reverberating like an echo of shattered bonds. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized what had just happened-I had witnessed my dad slap Anne.

‘My dad slaps her!’

The room seemed to freeze as the weight of the action hung in the air. The shock of it all left me speechless, my mind racing to process the event that had just transpired. I had never seen such an altercation between them before.

‘What is the way? Why is my dad stopping her?’

I thought as I looked at them.