“What are you doing?” she asks, incredulous.
“I’m leaving.”
She scoffs. “Because of Eden? Isn’t she with someone else?”
“That doesn’t mean I get to be,” I snap, finally turning on her.
I fix her with a look so cold; it wipes the smugness straight off her face. “Me and you will never happen,” I say, slow and deliberate. “I love Eden, and if you try to come between us,” I lean closer, “I will end you.”
Her smile falters, just for a second.
“You realise what you’re passing up, right?” she says stiffly.
“Whatever you think you’re offering,” I reply, shouldering my bag, “will never touch what I have with Eden.”
“Had,” she corrects.
I don’t rise to it.
“I’ll be in touch with your father,” I say coolly. “Until then, you deal with Diesel. He’s running things while I’m gone.”
I don’t wait for her response. I don’t give her time to throw threats or power plays or remind me who she thinks she is.
I walk out.
Martha rips the door open before my fist even reaches the wood.
I stagger back, caught off guard by the fury blazing across her face. She’s always been quiet, careful. The kind of woman who shrinks rather than explodes.
Not tonight.
“How dare you show your face here?” she hisses, stepping outside and closing the door behind her with deliberate care. Like she doesn’t want Eden to hear this. Like she’s protecting her.
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” I say quickly. “To explain.”
“She doesn’t want to hear it,” Martha snaps, shoving me hard in the chest.
I barely rock back, but the hit lands where it counts.
“Please,” I say, lowering my voice. “Just let me see her. It’s not what it looked like.”
She laughs, short, sharp, humourless. “She’s the same woman you were with weeks ago,” she spits, already pulling her phone from her pocket.
My stomach drops.
She taps the screen, then thrusts it up between us. A photo of me and Anika at the charity function. Too close. Too familiar. Her hand on my arm.
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Tell me you didn’t show that to Eden.”
“Of course, I did,” she snaps. “I didn’t even see you at first. She did. Straight away.”
Fuck.
“She’s carrying your child and you’re out there playing gangster games with women like that.”
“Jesus, Martha,” I growl.
“Don’t,” she fires back. “Just don’t. Get your shit and leave us alone. We’re happy here.”
