Chapter 4
Thirty minutes later, I burst through the front door.
Inside, the lights were low. Candlelight flickered across two familiar figures at the dining table.
Valerie Scott raised a glass of red wine to clink with Nathan’s. When she spotted me, she stood up with a feigned look of surprise.
“Mrs. Whitmore, you’re back?” she said sweetly.
“I’m so sorry–my clothes were drenched from the rain, and Mr. Whitmore didn’t want me catching a cold, so he kindly lent me your silk robe.”
My gaze shifted to Nathan.
He sat there at the table, still annoyingly handsome, but his eyes were cold–glacial.
Like I was the intruder in their romantic dinner.
“You could’ve at least let someone know you were coming,” he said flatly. Not a trace of concern in his voice.
I clenched my fists, swallowing the heat rising in my throat.
“This is my house,” I said icily. “Do I need to ask permission to come home now?”
Valerie quickly jumped in, all flustered innocence. “Please don’t misunderstand, Mrs. Whitmore. I was just dropping documents. I didn’t know it would suddenly pour…”
I cut her off, my voice sharp.
“Did dropping off documents require putting on my robe? Or having a candlelit dinner?”
“Get the hell out.”
She stepped back, pretending to be frightened. Her eyes shimmered as if on cue, tears pooling just beneath the surface.
“I’m sorry… it’s all my fault. I’ll change out of it right away…”
She started unbuttoning the robe–painfully slow—while stealing glances at Nathan through her lashes.
Predictably, Nathan shot to his feet, stepping in front of her protectively.
“Anna, that’s enough!” he barked.
“Valerie is our guest. You don’t get to treat her like this.”
“Guest?” I let out a low, bitter laugh. “Fine. If she’s not leaving, then I am.”
I turned and stormed into the bedroom, yanked open my closet, and shoved a few changes of clothes into a bag.
Nathan started to rise, but the second Valerie tugged at his sleeve, he sank right back into his chair.
As I passed the study, I paused–planning to grab my late mother’s photo.
What I found instead made my blood run cold.
The frame was shattered on the floor. The photo–cracked, dirty–had a full footprint stamped across my mother’s face.
My hands trembled as rage surged up my spine.
“Who did this?” I asked, my voice low and shaking with fury.
Valerie came slinking in, wearing the same damn robe, her tone full of fake remorse.
“Mrs. Whitmore, I’m so sorry. I must’ve knocked it over after I showered. I’ll replace the trame for you-
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“Knocked it over?” I turned slowly, my glare like a blade.
“You accidentally knocked it down, or you purposely stepped on it?”
Her expression froze for a moment. Just a flicker–but I caught it.
Then she defaulted to her signature pitiful look.
“I swear I didn’t mean to… please don’t be upset.‘
“”
Nathan arrived, frowning as if I were the problem.
Anna, she already apologized. It’s just a photo. We can print another one tomorrow. Wh
Those words were gasoline.
I exploded.
I lunged, grabbing Valerie by the collar and slamming her into the wall.
“What the hell gives you the right to touch my mother’s picture?!”
are you being like this?”
Panic flickered across her face–but it disappeared as fast as it came, replaced with glistening crocodile tears.
“Mrs. Whitmore, please–I didn’t mean to!”
Nathan rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “Anna! Are you crazy? Let her go!”
I didn’t even flinch.
I grabbed a fistful of Valerie’s hair and drove her head straight into the wall.
Thud.
A sickening crack echoed through the room as her forehead turned purple and blood began trickling down her chin.
“Anna! Stop it!” Nathan screamed, trying desperately to pull me off her.
Valerie’s mask finally slipped. She glared at me, face twisted and wild with hatred.
But her voice? Still soft. Still manipulative.
“Mrs Whitmore… if you keep acting like this… Mr. Whitmore will be heartbroken…”
“Heartbroken?” I slammed her again, harder.
“I don’t give a damn about his heartbreak!”
Nathan lunged forward, finally managing to yank her into his arms, shielding her like some delicate porcelain doll.
He turned to me, seething.
“You’ve lost your mind, Anna! We’re done!”
“We’re getting divorced tomorrow!”
I slapped him so hard across the face, the sound cracked through the room.
“You think divorce fixes this?”
“You can destroy my marriage, but you don’t get to disrespect my mother.”
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“You crossed the line, Nathan. And tonight, I swear–if I don’t make you and your little whore regret every second of it, I’ll eat my hat.”
Chapter 4
