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Chapter 4
Julian always said he admired Delilah’s fiery streak.
Tonight, it showed on her face–a carefully curated mix of stubborn pride and poised fragility. And Julian? He looked at her like she was
made of glass and roses.
A low, indulgent chuckle slipped from his lips. “You’re something else,” he murmured.
Then, without so much as a glance at Savannah, he turned and gave the order.
“Kneel. Apologize.”
Savannah froze, eyes widening.
“Julian, are you out of your damn mind?” she choked out. “Do you even know who he is—what
She didn’t get to finish.
With a flick of Julian’s hand, the security team moved.
he
Two guards grabbed her before she could fight back. Her knees hit the pavement hard. One of them yanked her head back by the hair and slammed her face into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The sickening thud echoed through the night.
Blood spilled across her forehead, warm and fast, clouding her vision. Her limbs went numb, her thoughts scattered like broken glass.
Only when Delilah’s expression finally softened did Julian raise a hand.
“Enough.”
The guards let go.
Savannah collapsed, crumpling onto the cold ground like a discarded thing. Blood and tears mixed, sinking into the dirt beneath her.
Julian crouched beside her, expression unreadable.
He offered her the spotless handkerchief like it meant something.
“You’re still holding on to this?” His voice was calm–too calm. “This obsession of yours… it’s not justice. It’s vengeance.”
“She’s falling apart, and you just keep twisting the knife.”
She slapped the handkerchief from his hand.
“Say whatever you want.”
Her voice was raw. She forced herself upright, swaying but refusing to stay down.
Julian’s eyes flicked toward the fallen cloth. His jaw clenched–just slightly.
Then he turned back to Delilah, slipped an arm around her waist, and pulled her close.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Silvergrove’s waiting.”
Delilah cast one last glance over her shoulder.
Savannah stood in the background, bloodied and swaying, a ghost of who she used to be.
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Delilah’s voice rang out sweet and loud, high enough for Savannah to hear.
“You’re not taking me to my place?”
Julian smirked. “Not tonight. We’re going to mine.”
And then he kissed her.
Right there, in front of Savannah.
Lingering. Possessive.
Savannah turned away, but it was too late. The damage was done. The kiss carved into her like a thousand tiny
She stood there long after the sound of their engine faded into the night.
Julian hadn’t even left her a car.
By the time she made it back to the estate, it was close to midnight.
She stepped onto the front porch, fingers hovering over the keypad—
But then she froze.
The second–floor windows above the foyer were still lit.
knives.
A faint thud echoed through the silence, followed by a woman’s laugh. Then the soft, rhythmic creak of a bed frame.
She didn’t need to hear more.
The keypad blurred before her eyes as her chest tightened. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Not yet.
Outside, the wind had a bite, the late–autumn air of Wexley Heights chilling her to the bone. But it didn’t compare to the numbness clawing through her chest,
An hour passed.
Only when the noises finally died down did she punch in the code.
The door clicked open.
She stepped into the front hall–and stopped.
The rug she’d spent weeks picking out? Covered in torn clothes.
The handcrafted divider by the entryway–the one she’d searched half the city for? Someone had left a half–empty box of condoms on top of it, cheap and garish.
It was clear what had happened here.
Julian hadn’t even waited. He’d claimed their home as his new love nest.
Savannah kept her head down. She didn’t want to see the full picture. She didn’t need to. Her chest already ached like it had been cracked open and left to rot.
She turned to go upstairs-
And came face to face with Delilah.
Wrapped in nothing but a towel, cheeks flushed, skin still damp.
She looked Savannah up and down like she was the help.
“You really don’t have to act so wounded,” she said, all faux politeness. “I just wanted to let you know—I’m not the other woman here.”
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Chapter 4
