And with legs that feel like lead, I slip past the circle of men and my husband, every step a silent countdown to whatever waits for me outside.
???
Exiting the luxurious building in a rush, I stumble outside, dragging in a huge gulp of breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
The night rain pelts down on my overheated skin, like cold needles piercing through. I tip my head back, letting it wash over me, black streaks of mascara bleeding down my cheeks like cracks in porcelain.
A jagged flash of lightning splits the sky, and through its crackle, a voice cuts the night.
“Blaire?” Brad’s deep, familiar tone reaches me, reverberating against the storm.
My tear-blurred eyes blink open, head tilting forward.
And there, through the rain-slicked glass of the car, I spot Law’s driver. His gaze is locked on me, unblinking and patient. Watching and waiting for me to obey Law’s command.
When Brad’s footsteps draw nearer behind me, I slowly turn, rain slicing between us as my eyes find his.
He stops in front of me and studies my face, then the half-hidden bruise darkening my neck—something no one inside the hall bothered to notice.
“He’s hurting you,” he says, low but firm, his gaze darting back to mine, jaw clenched.
“Just stay out of it, Brad,” I snap, the words shredding as they leave me.
I start to turn away, but his hand closes around my sore wrist, gentle, but secure, and it halts me.
For a second I steal a glance at his face, and I see the concern lined in the set of his mouth, something close to anger in his eyes.
But I cast my gaze back to the puddled pavement like a habit.
“He’s changed. I barely recognize him anymore. He’s not the man I used to know,” he mutters, tone thin, brows pinching together as though I’m holding the missing pieces to a puzzle he can’t seem to solve.
Law and Brad have been best friends and business partners for years, way before I ever knew them. He has to see it too, the way everything has twisted and darkened around Law.
We used to be close, all of us. Me, Law, Brad, and his wife. Vacations, dinners, and warm summer nights filled with laughter and drinks. But that’s all gone now, just stripped away piece by piece until nothing remains but distance.
“He… he wants to end our partnership,” Brad confesses, his voice hesitant. “He wants me out. And he’s doing everything he can to make it happen.”
My brows knit as I turn to face him fully, anger bubbling hot beneath my skin.
“You mean the business that never stopped?” I spit, and his face falls. “Tell me, Brad—how long have you both still been drowning in the filthy underworld?”
His chest rises, stiff, and he breathes out.
“What?”
He releases my wrist, straightening to his full height, rain running down the streaks of his strawberry-blonde hair.
“I’ve known for a few weeks,” I admit, the words tasting like dirt of my past life.
He looks away with a tight nod, jaw flexing.
“I needed to understand,” I continue, my voice rough with the truth. “I needed to know why my husband has suddenly turned into a stranger. And now I do. He’s corrupted to the core. Corrupted, and fucking rotting me with him.”
He shakes his head once and buries his hands in his wet pockets.
“Blaire, that’s not it... He loves you so much. He…”
“Love?”I snarl, dragging the collar of my dress down, exposing the dark, purple bruises blooming there—proof of what he’s been doing for the pettiest of things.
