Was it really that good with him?

Ezekiel had promised to show me around, and he didn’t disappoint. We spent the day exploring the beauty of Italy, visiting iconic places, and even indulging in some shopping. It was a whirlwind of sights, sounds, and experiences that left me feeling unexpectedly lighthearted. Despite my initial reservations, I found myself genuinely enjoying his company. Ezekiel wasn’t the boring, predictable guy I had imagined. He was actually fun to be around—charming, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

As dusk settled in, we returned to the mansion, both of us tired but content. The moment we stepped into the hall, though, the atmosphere shifted. I spotted my mom, her back turned to us, talking on the phone. Her voice was sharp, almost angry—a tone I wasn’t used to hearing from her.

I froze, lingering by the doorway until she noticed us. Her tone softened instantly, though the tension was still there.

“Robert, please don’t you dare try to contact her,” she said, her words clipped and final. It didn’t take much to realize she was talking to my dad.

“I’m hanging up now,” Mom added before ending the call abruptly. She turned to us, a forced smile on her face, trying to mask whatever had just happened. “How was the tour, honey?” she asked, her voice now sweet and warm.

“Good,” I replied with a nod, though my thoughts were elsewhere, still replaying the brief snippet of her conversation with Dad.

“Go freshen up. We’ll have dinner together,” Mom said, moving closer to Ezekiel and kissing him on the cheek.

The sight caught me off guard, and before I could fully process it, I quickly made my way to my room, feeling a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite identify.

Dinner was a quiet affair, but not uncomfortable. Mom, Ezekiel, and I sat around the table, and to my surprise, the atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant. Ezekiel kept the conversation light, asking me to try various dishes throughout the meal. His easygoing nature made the tension from earlier seem like a distant memory.

And the truth was, I wasn’t hating it at all. In fact, I was enjoying it—more than I cared to admit. It was strange, almost surreal, to find myself in this situation, actually liking the time spent with my mom’s boyfriend.

After an exhausting day, I fell asleep quickly, the events of the day lulling me into a deep sleep. Reaching for my water bottle, I found it empty. With a sigh, I threw off the covers and headed downstairs to refill.

The house was eerily quiet as I descended the staircase, the darkness only broken by the soft glow of the nightlights. After filling my bottle in the kitchen, I began my ascent back to the second floor, my thoughts already drifting back to sleep.

But as I reached the top of the stairs and was about to turn right toward my room, I froze. A faint, muffled sound reached my ears. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but then I heard it again—clearer this time. Someone was moaning.

My heart started pounding as I realized the sound was coming from my mom’s room. The door was ajar, just enough for the sounds to escape, and what I heard next froze me in place. She was moaning, her tone filled with unmistakable pleasure, and she was calling Ezekiel’s name.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, my pulse racing.

My mom’s voice, filled with pleasure, moaned Ezekiel’s name, begging for more. The reality of what was happening behind that door hit me like a freight train. I couldn’t believe it—didn’t want to believe it. My pulse quickened, my heart pounding in my chest as I moved closer, driven by a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

I peeked through the small gap in the door, and what I saw made my blood run cold. My mom and Ezekiel were entangled in a way I had never imagined, their bodies moving together with an intensity that made my stomach churn. My legs squeezed together involuntarily, a wave of sensation washing over me as I bit down hard on my lower lip.

Suddenly, in my shock, I stumbled backward, my back hitting a small table behind me. The vase on it rattled loudly, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. My breath caught in my throat as I heard my mom’s voice, now tense and alert.

“Love, I think someone’s there,” she whispered. “I heard a sound.”

Panic surged through me, and I covered my mouth to suppress a gasp. I turned and bolted, my feet pounding against the floor as I fled the scene. In my haste, I didn’t see the corner of the wall until it was too late, and I collided with it, pain shooting through my knee. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

I slammed the door to my room, my hands trembling. I stumbled toward my bed, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will away the images that were now burned into my memory.

But the more I tried to push them away, the more vivid they became. I could still hear my mom’s voice, the way she had moaned Ezekiel’s name, the raw intensity of it all. It was something I wasn’t supposed to witness—something that felt too intimate, too real. I pressed my lips together, a shiver running down my spine as the thought of Ezekiel’s dominance over her filled my mind.

A heavy breath escaped me, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, “Was it really that good with him?”

I felt a wave of shame wash over me, but I couldn’t deny the strange pull I felt—the way my body reacted to the memory of what I’d seen. My thighs pressed together involuntarily, a physical response I didn’t fully understand but couldn’t ignore.

Meanwhile, in Kathrine’s room, Ezekiel slowly got up from her, his body still glistening with sweat. He noticed the door was slightly ajar, and a flicker of unease crossed his face. Without saying a word, he walked over and opened it further, peering into the dark hallway. His eyes scanned the shadows, but he couldn’t see anyone. Just as he was about to turn back, his gaze fell on the vase that had toppled over on the table.

Something clicked in his mind as he quietly set the vase back in place. His eyes then drifted toward Isabella’s room, two doors down. A thought lingered in his mind, but before he could dwell on it, Kathrine’s voice broke the silence.

“Ezekiel!” she called, her tone impatient.

He blinked, “It was no one,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

With a final glance down the hallway, Ezekiel walked back into Kathrine’s room. This time, he locked the door behind him, the sound of the bolt sliding into place echoing in the quiet mansion.