Once outside, I could finally breathe. The tension inside the house had been suffocating. Beau led me to his sleek, black car parked neatly at the curb. I slipped inside, feeling a sense of relief as the door closed behind me, shutting out the chaos.

Beau started the engine, and we drove in silence for a few blocks. I could feel his questions hanging in the air, but he said nothing. Finally, after a few minutes, he spoke.

“I knew your family had their issues, but I didn’t expect this,” he said, glancing over at me. I shrugged, not sure how to respond. How could I explain years of dysfunction in a few sentences?

“I’m sorry,” I said eventually, my voice tinged with bitterness. “I should have warned you.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize for them, Selena. They’re the ones who should be sorry.”

The drive continued, and I began to relax into the soft leather seats, savoring the quiet strength Beau exuded. I had met him under strange circumstances, a whirlwind romance kept hidden from my family because I knew they would never approve. Not that their approval mattered, but avoiding drama had been a priority.

As we approached his home—a sprawling modern estate that stood in stark contrast to the old money grandeur of my family’s house—I realized just how different my life had become since meeting Beau. The gates opened silently, and we drove up the long driveway to the main entrance.

Beau parked and turned off the car, then looked at me. The depth of concern in his eyes was disarming. “You deserve better than how they treat you,” he said softly.