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“No. I told you what he’ll do.”
“But if he tries to kill your father, I’ll know it’s him?—”
“And he said if that happens, he’ll lose you, so I may as well lose someone too.” He came closer to me. “You promised me you wouldn’t say anything. My father’s life is literally on the line right now.”
“It’s an amazing coincidence that you’re accusing my father of all these things, and I can never question him about it.” My eyes shifted away. “That he can never confirm or deny these allegations. Quite convenient.” My eyes moved back to him.
He wore an expression he’d never had before. The anger in his eyes was masked with defeat. His shoulders slouched. His skin was suddenly paler than it’d ever been. All the intensity he usually wore when he looked at me had evaporated in just a few seconds. “You don’t believe me.”
“I—I didn’t say that.”
“You either believe me, or you don’t,” he said simply. “I thought you would.”
“My father… We’re so close. He loves me so much. I just can’t?—”
“I love you more than he ever will. Than he ever has.” He continued to speak with defeat, without passion. “When I tried to break things off and you wouldn’t let me, I fell so fucking hard for you. When you asked if there was something I wasn’t telling you, I wanted to break down. You saw me in a way no one ever has. I hoped that telling you the truth would bring that back, would make you look at me like that again. But I can see that it hasn’t.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor. “You either need to forgive me for what you think happened with Cassandra…or you need to believe my story. If your answer is neither, I think this marriage is over.” He lifted his eyes to look at me, the sorrow heavy in his stare, like he already knew what I would say. “I love you…so fucking much, but I can’t keep fighting for you. I can’t continue to fight a battle that I clearly have no chance of winning.”
Tears streaked down my cheeks, a culmination of all my emotions, all my despair. The sobs wanted to rack my chest, but I kept them back, refusing to dissolve into a puddle right before his eyes.
He stared at me for minutes and waited for me to say something, his eyes still hollow, still devoid of all emotion. Then he cleared his throat. “It’s late.” He rubbed one of his arms through the sleeve of his shirt. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. Aldo will help you with your things in the morning.” His words trailed off like there could be more, like he hoped I would interrupt him, tell him that I wanted to stay, that I believed his story…
But I didn’t.
Chapter 5
Scarlett
I sat at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee in front of me, the steam wafting from the dark surface and hitting me in the face. The days had started to get longer now that we were closer to spring, but the cold was still rampant, the draft felt every time I came too close to the window when I passed.
My old apartment was exactly as I remembered it. To my good fortune, no one had rented it in the brief time I’d lived with Axel. His men took all my clothing and belongings and delivered them, along with me, to this place.
Now I sat there alone, lower than I’d ever been in my life.
There were times when I wanted to go back to Axel because I missed him so much, but then the past would loom over us like a bad dream. I would think of the way he’d treated Cassandra so delicately…the way he treated me. Or I would think about the horrible accusation he’d made, that my own flesh and blood would betray me like my worst enemy. Either way, our relationship was doomed to die. We were like a newly potted plant. It looked nice for a few days, but then the dead soil or thelack of sunshine killed it. The plant was replaced, only to have the same outcome.
I continued to stare at my coffee but never took a sip. Sometimes the steam distracted me, blanketed my face with moist heat that made my cheeks feel wet…without any tears.
I’d left my ring on his nightstand before I moved out. My finger felt naked now. The weightlessness was freeing, but not in the good kind of way, more in the falling off a building toward the pavement kind of way.
My heart ached with a hole that would never heal. The memory of his smirk and his playful eyes would haunt me forever. He made me feel so warm, even in the darkest hour. When I had been about to lose my life, he was there to save me. He saved my father too, and if his accusation about him were true, then that would have been a noble act.
Three days had passed, and I still didn’t know what to think.
Axel hadn’t texted or called.
And I knew he wouldn’t.
I sat on the couch in the parlor, my eyes glued to the dancing flames in the hearth. Gas fireplaces were more convenient and pollutant-free, but there was something special about a real fire, the way the flames made the wood crackle and pop. It was mesmerizing, and like the steam from my coffee, it distracted me…for a brief moment.
“Sweetheart.” My father rounded the corner, entering the room with his welcoming posture, his handsome smile, but it took only two seconds for his mood to dim and mirror mine. “Everything alright?” He came to the couch and stood over me for a moment, his eyes jumping back and forth to take in my ghost-white face.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” My voice didn’t sound like my own, sounded like it belonged to a stranger.
My father slowly lowered himself to the couch across from me, his concerned eyes locked on me with such anguish. His spine didn’t touch the back of the couch, prepared to launch toward me if I collapsed on the floor. He continued to stare. “Sweetheart, you look…” He hesitated, replacing whatever he was about to say with something more polite. “You look unwell.”
I showered every day because I couldn’t stand oily hair, but I put no effort into my appearance. Instead of giving myself a blowout for shiny and silky hair, I let it air-dry. As a result, I had a disheveled appearance. I didn’t bother with makeup, so my face was washed out, my features all blending together in an unremarkable look. “I came by because I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“I’m listening,” he said quickly, anxious to hear the source of my misery.
