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Chapter_84
Freya’s eyes narrowed at the scene unfolding before her. Her grip on the armrest of the couch tightened as her gaze flicked to Quinn, whose face contorted in pain after Joseph’s toy gun hit her. The child’s laughter echoed in the room, oblivious to the damage he had just caused. For a split second, Freya almost felt a flicker of satisfaction, watching Quinn struggle, but that quickly gave way to the uncomfortable sensation of guilt. What was happening to her?
Quinn’s eyes watered from the sting, but she didn’t let the pain stop her. She remained standing, her hand pressed to her face, holding back tears that threatened to spill. Alexander, who had been watching the exchange in silence, was the first to act. His usual cool demeanor shattered in an instant, his voice sharp with anger as he turned on Joseph.
“Joseph, that’s enough!” he snapped, his tone stern and unforgiving.
Joseph flinched at the sudden authority in Alexander’s voice but, still clutching the toy gun, simply shrugged it off. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, I was just playing.”
“That’s not playing, Joseph!” Alexander’s words were laced with a rare venom, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You need to learn some respect. Apologize to Quinn. Now.”
The child hesitated, looking to his mother, who had been silent through the whole ordeal. Kaitlyn’s eyes lingered on the scene for a moment before she sighed, her voice dripping with impatience. “Joseph, apologize to Quinn, now.”
Joseph muttered something under his breath, reluctantly shifting his gaze to Quinn. “Sorry,” he said, but there was no sincerity in his tone. It was clear that the reprimand had more to do with Alexander’s outburst than any real understanding of why his actions were wrong.
Quinn, still holding her eye, let out a slow, controlled breath, trying to steady herself. She didn’t want to make a scene, but the sting of the hit lingered, both physically and emotionally. With a forced smile, she nodded at Joseph, though her eyes betrayed the hurt she was feeling.
“It’s alright, Joseph,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, as though the very words themselves might shatter under the weight of the pain. She reached up to wipe at the corner of her eye, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to fall.
Alexander’s gaze softened when he saw her reaction, but before he could say anything more, Freya spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
“That’s enough, Quinn,” Freya said, her tone strained but polite. “Why don’t you take a seat and get yourself together? You’ve had a long day.”
Quinn turned to face Freya, startled by the abruptness in her voice. The words were a reminder that she didn’t belong here—at the table, in this family’s life, or perhaps even in Alexander’s world. She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again, knowing that saying anything would only add fuel to the fire.
Instead, she nodded stiffly and walked toward the dining room, her movements slow as she fought to maintain her composure. The sound of her footsteps was drowned out by the murmurs of the family behind her. She could feel their eyes on her back, judging her, scrutinizing her every move. What would they think of her now? How long before they saw her as a nuisance, a burden, someone to be tolerated but never truly welcomed?
When she entered the dining room, she took a seat at the far end of the table, trying her best to remain composed. The room was filled with an uneasy silence as everyone took their places, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words.
Kaitlyn, still visibly irritated, was the first to break the silence. “Well, let’s get on with it, then,” she muttered, her tone sharp as she reached for the wine glass in front of her. The others followed suit, though there was an undeniable tension in the air, one that lingered far longer than any of them were willing to acknowledge.
Alexander finally took his seat, his gaze briefly flicking over to Quinn before he turned his attention to the food in front of him. It was clear that he was still seething, but he remained silent, perhaps unsure of what to say or how to navigate the brewing storm within the family.
As the meal progressed, Quinn couldn’t help but feel the weight of the room pressing down on her. Every glance, every quiet whisper, every awkward pause made her feel more and more like an outsider in this family she had never truly been a part of. The strained atmosphere was palpable, and she found herself shrinking further into her seat, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.
Freya, on the other hand, kept her eyes on Quinn the entire time, her mind whirling with thoughts she couldn’t quite articulate. What was going on between Quinn and Walter? The interaction in the restroom had only been the tip of the iceberg, and now she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more—something under the surface—that she needed to figure out.
But as the meal came to an end, and the evening wore on, one thing became clear: the storm inside the Kennedy household was far from over.
