Page 137 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes

I step closer, close enough that he has to tilt his head to meet my eyes. "If you ever come near her again, if you so much as breathe her name wrong, you’ll regret it."

Dom’s lips curl into a smirk. "Are you really stupid enough to think she’s in this for love?"

I don’t rise to the bait. Instead, I step back, turn without a word, and walk away. This was a total waste of my time.

Because Dom’s wrong. About everything.

But that doesn’t mean I’m done being careful.

I send a warning to Silas and Max to keep a closer eye on Genevieve. I don’t know what Dom is up to, but I know he’s not done yet.

Chapter44

Gen

The invitation came in the form of a simple text from my mother, phrased so sweetly it made my teeth ache.We just want to talk, darling. Please.

I knew better.

Still, I accepted. Because apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment.

The house looks the same as always—stately, cold, all about appearances over warmth. As I climb the front steps, a feeling of unease tightens in my stomach.

The door swings open before I can knock. Simone offers a stiff smile and gestures me inside.

"They're waiting in the sunroom," she says quietly, avoiding my eyes.

That should have been my first warning.

I square my shoulders and step inside.

The sunroom is bright, deceptively cheerful. But really, it’s a war room in disguise. For a moment, all I see are my parents. They’re already seated. My mother is perched stiffly at the head of the table, pearls and disapproval gleaming under the recessed lighting. My father is standing behind her, his hands folded neatly in front of him, expression carved into stone.

But they’re not alone.

Heather is here. And Dom. What the fuck?

My heart plummets to my toes.

This isn’t a conversation. It’s an ambush.

I’m not even surprised anymore. Why do I let myself keep falling for their bullshit?

"Genevieve," my mother says, rising gracefully to her feet. "You look tired. Sit down, darling."

I don't move. "What's going on?"

"We’ve been talking," she says. "And we all agree—it’s time to set things right."

The words land with a dull thud in my chest. My brow furrows.

"Set things right," I repeat, voice flat.

My father steps forward, tone gentle in a way that feels rehearsed. "You’ve made quite the mess of things, darling. But you're young. You don't understand the consequences of your choices yet. That’s why we’re here—to help you fix this before it’s too late."

I stiffen. "There’s nothing to fix."

Heather laughs lightly, a sound so disgustingly fake. "Oh, Gen, come on. You don’t really want to be stuck playing house with three old men, do you? That’s not a life. That’s a circus."