Chapter 8
The dappled shadows of the afternoon trees played across his gaunt face, weary and thin. He ground out his last cigarette with his shoe.
His eyes scanned me up and down, and a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.
“My runaway wife. Is this what you’ve come to without me?”
“You made it hard for me to find you.”
I knew the consequences of deceiving Weston. A man as ruthless as he wouldn’t come here without intent.
My body wanted to flee, but my legs felt like they were made of lead. I stood still, glaring at him silently.
“You can see again? Why didn’t you tell me?”
As he stepped forward to grab me, I swept up the kids and rushed into the house.
Just as I was about to slam the door shut, his hand shot through, wedged painfully against the frame, muscles straining
A groan escaped him, but he didn’t pull back.
Despite my efforts, he pushed through.
I clawed at him like a cornered animal, resisting with everything I had. The fabric of his collar ripped, revealing a thin chain around his neck.
Dangling from it was my wedding ring.
Why was he wearing my ring?
In my stunned hesitation, Weston reached for the children, calling out softly through the gap.
“Say ‘Daddy.“”
Ethan and Lillian leaned against the door, refusing to acknowledge him.
I had no idea what his endgame was.
Once, their innocent calls of “Dad” only earned them Weston’s sharp reprimand, a declaration that they weren’t worthy of calling him that.
Now, what game was he playing?
With no choice, I let him in and sent the kids away, leaving just the two of us.
He settled into a creaking wooden chair, draping himself like a man in command, occasionally examining the scabs on his hands.
“Tm taking the children. Compared to your life of poverty, I can offer them more.
I scoffed
“Do you know when their birthdays are? What foods they like? What they’re allergic to?”
He froze, realizing he had no answers.
But soon, he smirked again, the air of dominance returning.
“If you come back to me, there’s no need to fight over custody. Otherwise, you know what I’m capable of.”
I stared at him, a laugh bubbling up despite the tension.
2.02 PM & B
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“Do you think Belle would be so generous?”
Instead of anger, he chuckled, eyes sparking with a strange satisfaction.
“Jealousy? That means you still care.”
He lunged, grabbing my wrist and leaning in for a kiss.
But I wasn’t the same woman I once was.
I slapped him hard across the face.
“Mr. Carrington, show some respect.”
It ended, predictably, with tension thick in the air.
I stayed clear–headed.
His willingness to grovel was just his way of reclaiming control, driven purely by possessiveness.
