Chapter 3

"Why isn't Ethan in his room?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of the storm raging inside me. "He was supposed to be punished for what happened to Noah."

Julian looked up, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Punished? For what? A childhood accident? Don't be so harsh, Liam. Boys will be boys."

He ruffled Ethan's hair. Ethan beamed.

"He nearly killed him," I said, my gaze fixed on Julian. "He killed my son."

Victoria rose, her eyes flashing. "How dare you speak to Julian like that! He' s a guest in our home."

"Our home?" I repeated, the words hollow.

Julian feigned a wince, clutching his arm. "Actually, Victoria, he was quite aggressive earlier. Pushed me. My shoulder still aches."

It was a blatant lie. I hadn't touched him.

Victoria' s face hardened. "You laid hands on Julian?"

She turned to her head of security, a burly man named Marcus who was always lurking.

"Marcus," Victoria said, her voice like ice. "Teach my husband some manners. Use the Callaway. The one I gave him."

My stomach dropped. The custom-engraved golf club. An anniversary gift from me to her, years ago, when I still believed in us.

Marcus advanced. I didn't resist. What was the point?

The first blow caught me across the back. Pain exploded.

Then another, and another.

I crumpled to the expensive Persian rug, the world dissolving into blackness.

I woke up on the floor, every muscle screaming.

The family' s housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, a woman with a face like stone, stood over me.

"Sir, you need to get up," she said, her voice devoid of any sympathy. "It's your tenth wedding anniversary."

Anniversary. The word was a cruel joke.

"Madam has booked a private suite at The Astor Club for a celebration tonight. She expects you to be there."

I tried to sit up, a groan escaping my lips.

"And she' s laid out a suit for you." Mrs. Gable gestured towards the bedroom.

Later, I would learn it was a suit Julian had tried on during a shopping spree and rejected.

Victoria's "generosity" knew no bounds.

I was forced into it, my bruised body protesting every movement.

The reflection in the mirror was a stranger, beaten and hollow-eyed.