Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle - Chapter 226

Chapter 226: Chapter 225: Don’t do anything that’ll make you lose everything.

“What do you mean Dianna warned you before she died—and you still haven’t told Kalix?” Gina’s voice rose in disbelief, her eyes wide. “Winter, do you realize how serious this is? Someone is literally after you, and you’re pretending it’s nothing?”

Winter sat across from her, tension written all over her face. She had come to Gina’s place because the weight of her thoughts was becoming too much to carry alone. Kalix had enough on his plate, and Sean… well, she didn’t trust him to not escalate it immediately. But Gina—she’d listen.

“I know how it sounds,” Winter said quietly, rubbing her hands together. “But Kalix is already juggling too much. I don’t want to dump another vague threat on him—especially when I don’t even know if it’s real.”

She leaned back into the couch, her eyes clouded with worry. “Dianna said someone was after me… but she didn’t say who. And now she’s dead. For all I know, it could have been a misunderstanding or fear getting the best of her.”

Gina shook her head, exhaling sharply. “Or it could be real, Winter. And if it is, you’re already one step behind.”

Winter closed her eyes briefly, the pressure mounting behind her temples. “That’s exactly why I came to you. I needed to say it out loud to someone. I’m not trying to be reckless, Gina. I’m trying to be careful.”

Gina softened, her tone gentler now. “So what’s the plan? Are you going to keep this from Kalix forever?”

Winter met her gaze, a flicker of determination breaking through the uncertainty. “Not forever. Just… not yet. I need to be sure. Dianna said someone would come for me—but I haven’t seen any signs. That means they haven’t made their move. And until they do, I don’t have anything solid to go on.”

Gina crossed her arms, skeptical. “So you’re planning to wait for whoever this is to show their face before doing anything?”

“Yes,” Winter said firmly. “Right now, that’s the only option. We’re still trying to identify the woman who killed Dianna. Until we find her, I can’t confirm anything. It could all be connected, or it could be a distraction.”

Gina let out a long sigh and shook her head. “You’re dancing with fire, Winter. Just… promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“When the moment comes—don’t face it alone. Whatever happens, you let Kalix in. Okay?”

Winter gave her a small nod, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

But even as she said it, a gnawing unease settled deeper into her chest.

Because deep down, she feared that by the time she was ready to tell Kalix… it might already be too late.

Gina and Winter lingered at the café a little longer than planned, caught up in the swirl of quiet conversation, warm drinks, and heavier thoughts. But eventually, they stood, gathering their things and stepping out into the cool air of the late afternoon.

Neither expected what—or rather who—was waiting outside.

Eric.

Winter froze mid-step. Gina stopped beside her, her posture immediately stiffening. For a moment, none of them spoke. The silence between them felt louder than the street noise around them.

Winter’s expression shifted from shock to something far colder—an icy stillness that only deepened the longer she stared at him. Gina, ever the protective buffer, stepped slightly in front of her.

“Let’s go,” Gina said sharply, her voice clipped as she reached to guide Winter past him.

But Eric stepped forward, blocking their path with a desperate edge in his eyes.

“Winter—please. I need to talk to you. It’s about Agnes.”

At the mention of that name, Winter’s steps faltered. Her entire body tensed, though her face betrayed nothing but calm detachment. Still, the pounding in her chest told a different story.

Agnes.

Of all the people he could’ve brought up, she wasn’t expecting that. And yet, just hearing her name again stirred memories.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Gina said firmly, glancing between them. “Especially not after everything.”

But Winter raised a hand gently, stopping Gina.

Her eyes never left Eric. “What about Agnes?” she asked, her tone flat but cautious. Emotionless, but not unaffected.

Eric hesitated, as if weighing how much to say in a public space.

“It’s not something I can explain here,” he said, sharing a look with Gina.

Winter studied Eric carefully, her gut twisting into knots. There was hesitation in her body, but her mind knew she couldn’t walk away—not without hearing him out.

“Give me a minute, Gina,” she said, offering her friend a quiet, reassuring look.

Gina frowned but nodded, taking a few steps back while keeping her eyes firmly on them. She didn’t trust Eric—not for a second—but she trusted Winter to handle herself. Still, she stayed close enough to intervene if necessary.

Winter walked with Eric a short distance down the street, just enough to keep their conversation private. Once they stopped, she turned to face him, arms loosely folded.

“What about Agnes?” she asked directly, wasting no time.

Eric looked at her for a long moment. His gaze softened, trailing over her face—taking in the woman she had become.

There was something in his eyes that hovered between admiration and caution. As much as he wanted to get lost in the beauty he remembered, he couldn’t forget how sharp Winter truly was beneath the surface.

A dangerous kind of beautiful.

But this wasn’t about nostalgia.

“What did you tell Agnes about me?” he asked finally, voice low and measured.

Winter studied him for a second, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small shrug, she said calmly, “What did I tell her? I don’t remember.”

Her voice was smooth—controlled—but Eric didn’t miss the flicker of amusement behind her eyes. It was the same look she used to wear when she knew more than she was letting on.

Eric let out a dry laugh, no longer surprised by how flawlessly she could wear a mask. But he wasn’t here to be fooled.

“You’re good, Winter. I’ll give you that. But not that good—not enough to make me blind to what you were doing.”

She tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “And what exactly do you think I was doing?”

His eyes narrowed, the charm in his tone now stripped away.

“Don’t play dumb. You planted the seed of doubt in Agnes’s mind. You turned her against me without ever having to say a word directly. And you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

Winter said nothing, her silence more damning than denial. Her expression was calm, but her heart beat faster. Not out of guilt—but out of the knowledge that Eric was getting dangerously close to truths she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Eric stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, accusing murmur. “I know you stole that bottle from me that day.”

Winter didn’t flinch. She met his gaze with practiced calm, her expression unreadable. She had expected this moment—half-dreading it, half-prepared for it. Eric was many things, but oblivious wasn’t one of them.

“I didn’t steal anything,” she said coolly. “You dropped it. I simply made sure it got back to someone who deserved to know the truth.”

Eric scoffed, the sound laced with bitter amusement. “Convenient. Always so composed, aren’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t see through that performance?”

Winter’s lips curved faintly. “What performance? I’m just telling you what happened.”

He leaned in slightly, his tone sharp. “You expect me to believe you just returned it to Agnes? That’s it?”

Winter’s gaze sharpened. “Why does it matter what I did with it—unless you’re afraid of what she found out?”

A muscle in Eric’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing. His silence was answer enough.

“Or perhaps,” he said after a beat, voice dropping further, “you stole it to create a misunderstanding between us. You wanted her to turn on me.” His eyes locked onto hers now, piercing, searching. “Didn’t you?”

Winter’s silence stretched between them, and for a second, Eric thought he’d won.

But then she took a slow breath and replied, her voice soft but deliberate. “If a bottle could destroy what you had with her… Maybe it wasn’t that strong to begin with.”

Eric’s jaw clenched. Her words cut deeper than he wanted to admit.

“You really haven’t changed,” he muttered.

“You’re right,” Winter said, turning to leave. “I haven’t forgotten what people like you are capable of.”

“What do you mean?” Eric asked, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped in closer, the edge in his tone unmistakable.

Winter stood her ground, calm but firm, her eyes locking onto his with unshaken resolve.

“You know exactly what I mean, Eric,” she said, her voice cold but measured. “Which is why I’m warning you—don’t do anything that’ll make you lose everything.”

Eric’s brows furrowed, his expression tight with suspicion. Her words felt too pointed, too specific. And though she hadn’t said it outright, something in her tone—something in the way her gaze held his—made his stomach twist.

Could she know?

His chest tightened. The possibility that Winter was aware of Agnes’s pregnancy had always lingered at the back of his mind, but now it surged forward like a threat he could no longer ignore.

“You’re bluffing,” he said, but the slight hesitation in his voice betrayed his unease. “You don’t know anything.”

Winter gave him a half-smile—cool, knowing, and sharp as a blade.

“Maybe. Or maybe I know more than you think.” She leaned in just enough for her words to cut clean. “The question is—how far are you willing to go before you burn everything around you?”

Eric didn’t respond immediately. His fists clenched at his sides, a storm brewing behind his eyes. Winter was always one step ahead, always too calm in the face of confrontation. And now, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what she was holding or how dangerous it could be.

Winter, on the other hand, turned to leave but paused only to say one last thing over her shoulder.

“If you care about Agnes… You’ll stop before it’s too late.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving Eric rooted to the spot, the weight of unspoken truths pressing in around him.