The Argument
RONNY’S POV
The sound of her chair scraping against the floor was so sudden I almost knocked over my coffee.
Liliana shot up from her seat like she’d just been burned. Her face was pale, her hand trembling as she shoved her phone into her pocket.
“Liliana,” I said sharply, pushing back from the table. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
She was already turning, already halfway to the door.
“Nothing—I have to go.” Her voice cracked, betraying her.
I reached her in two steps, my hand closing around her wrist. I pulled her back gently but firmly, forcing her to face me. “No, not nothing. Talk to me. What happened?”
Her lips quivered, her eyes filling with tears she tried to blink away. She shook her head, fighting it, but I wasn’t letting her run. Not from me.
Finally, her chest hitched, and the words tumbled out in a rush.
“The maid just called me… she overheard my dad. He’s planning to sell the house. My house. The one I grew up in, the one where we were a family before my mom died.” Her voice broke, her breath shuddering. “He wants to erase her. Erase everything. That house has all her memories, Ronny. Why would he do that?”
Her tears spilled before she could stop them.
I didn’t think—I just pulled her into me, wrapping my arms around her small frame and holding her tight against my chest. Her sobs muffled into my skin, shaking through me. I pressed a kiss against her damp hair and whispered low.
“Shh. Don’t cry, Liliana. If that house means something to you, then he’s not selling it. We’ll go there together and make sure he doesn’t. I promise you that.”
Slowly, her sobs softened, though her chest still rose and fell quick against me.
“Only if you stop crying,” I added, tilting her face up so I could see her swollen eyes.
A weak laugh broke through her tears, and she managed a small, shaky smile. She nodded.
God.
I never thought I could be this soft with anyone. Never thought I’d want to be. But here I was, kissing her forehead, brushing her hair back, making promises I never made to anyone before.
We went upstairs after that. She disappeared into the closet, and I dressed fast—black jeans, black shirt, something simple. When she stepped out, she was in a white dress that made her look untouchable, fragile, but I knew better. Underneath all that hurt, there was fire in her.
I grabbed the keys. “Let’s go.”
The drive to her family mansion was quiet. She stared out the window, her jaw tight, her hands twisting in her lap. I didn’t push her to talk. I wanted her calm, steady, when we got there.
As the gates opened and I pulled up the long driveway, her whole body stiffened beside me.
Before she could throw the door open, I caught her hand.
“Liliana,” I said firmly. “Listen to me. I need you calm. No matter what he says, no matter what she says—you stay calm. For me. Alright?”
Her green eyes flicked to mine, shining with defiance and pain. Then she nodded once.
We got out together.
Inside, the mansion looked like something out of another life—marble floors, gold-trimmed walls, expensive paintings staring down at us. The air smelled like polish and roses, too perfect, too fake.
Her father was in the sitting room, papers spread across the coffee table. When he saw us, his brows lifted in surprise, then dropped into a frown.
“Liliana. Ronny.” He leaned back in his chair, his tone casual, but I caught the edge in it. “What is this about?”
Liliana’s hand tightened around mine before she let go and stepped forward. Her chin lifted. “We need to talk, Dad.”
He glanced between us, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Talk about what?”
“The fact that you want to sell our home,” she snapped, her voice slicing through the room.
The man froze, his eyes flicking quick to his papers. He stuttered, “How—how did you know that?”
“You were planning to do it without telling me,” she shot back, fury and hurt laced in every word.
Before he could answer, the click of heels echoed across the marble. Clara—her stepmother—appeared from the hallway, her blonde hair perfect, her silk dress shimmering as though she had been waiting for a stage to appear.
“Oh, honey,” she purred, her voice dripping fake sweetness. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to sell the house. It’s just a building.”
Liliana’s eyes blazed. “Shut the fuck up. I’m talking to my dad, not you.”
Her father stood abruptly, his voice sharp. “Don’t talk to your mother like that, Liliana.”
“She’s not my fucking mother!” Liliana screamed, her voice shaking with rage. “My mother is dead. And you—you want to sell the only place that still has her in it. The house where all our memories live. And you think I’m just going to sit here and watch you erase her? No. Never.”
Her father’s face turned red. “Can you just calm down—”
Clara stepped closer, her hand out like she was the peacemaker. “My dear Liliana, please, calm down. This isn’t good for you.”
Liliana’s glare snapped to her, venom dripping from her voice. “How many times do I have to tell you to shut up? You snake. You married my dad the second my mom died, and you dare to call yourself my mother? You’re nothing but a gold-digger. You’ll never be my mom.”
The words hung heavy in the room.
None of us saw it coming.
Her father’s hand whipped out, fast and brutal, striking her across the face with a sharp crack that echoed against the marble walls.
Liliana’s head jerked to the side, her hair whipping, her hand flying to her cheek. The sound of her gasp tore through me.
For a second, silence.
Then my vision went red.
Every muscle in my body coiled tight, fury roaring in my chest like fire breaking loose.
And in that moment, I knew—he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
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