Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 66

Some conversations we spend years avoiding become the ones that finally set us free.

The morning of the engagement party, I find my father alone in his study.

He’s bent over paperwork, reading glasses perched on his nose, silver hair catching the lamplight. The sight of him like this, so ordinary, so familiar makes my chest ache with everything I’m about to say.

“Dad?” I close the door behind me. “Can we talk?”

He looks up, and concern flickers across his face immediately. He knows me. He knows when something heavy is coming. Without a word, he sets his pen aside and removes his glasses, giving me his full attention.

“Sit down, sweetheart.”

I sink into the leather chair across from his desk, my hands clasped tight in my lap to keep them from shaking. This is it. The conversation I’ve been dreading for months—maybe longer.

“I need to tell you the truth.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “The full truth, this time. About Lucas. About everything.”

“I’m listening.”

I tell him about the Halloween party first. About Lucas cornering me in that bedroom, about his hands on my body, about the door that wouldn’t open no matter how hard I pulled.

I tell him about Caleb breaking through, about the violence that followed, about the chaos of that night and the silence that came after.

My father’s face drains of color as I speak, but he doesn’t interrupt.

I tell him about Rachel Weaver—how she experienced the same thing years ago, how the Bennett family silenced her with lawyers, how she’s been carrying that wound alone while Lucas glided through life untouched.

I tell him about Jessica from Whitmore, about the pattern that emerges when you line up the stories side by side.

“The engagement was never something I wanted.”

My voice cracks on the admission.

“It was something I endured because I was terrified. Because Lucas had leverage over me, and because I didn’t know how to explain any of this without destroying everything.”

My father sits frozen, his expression cycling through emotions faster than I can track them.

“I couldn’t have misjudged someone this badly.”

The denial comes first, as I knew it would.

“He sat at our dinner table. He called me ‘sir.’ The Bennetts are old family friends—how could I have missed something so monstrous hiding in plain sight?”

“He’s very good at hiding.”

“That’s not—”

He stops, drags a hand over his face. When he speaks again, his voice is sharper, edged with guilt.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you let it go this far? Why did you carry this alone when I was right here, when protecting you is supposed to be my job?”

The question cuts to the heart of everything I’ve been avoiding.

“Because you were so happy, Dad.”

The tears I’ve been fighting finally spill over.

“You and Catherine. You’d finally found something good after everything that happened, and I didn’t want to be the one who ruined it. Again.”

The word hangs between us—heavy, loaded with years of unspoken grief.

My father’s face crumples.

“Serena…”

“I know it doesn’t make sense.”

I push forward before I lose my nerve.

“But after Mom died, after everything went dark for so long, watching you come back to life with Catherine felt like a miracle. I couldn’t be the one who shattered that. I couldn’t be the reason you stopped smiling again.”

“You wouldn’t have, sweety.”

“I would have.” I meet his eyes through the blur of tears. “Because there’s something else I’ve never told you. Something I’ve been carrying since I was fourteen years old.”

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