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Whatever hope had appeared vanished instantly. Her face collapsed.

“This is your child.”

“I know.”

“You fucking asshole.” She glared at me. “I thought maybe eventually things could be different.”

“Different how?”

Her throat moved as she swallowed.

“I thought maybe we could actually be together.”

I laughed. It came out before I could stop myself. Maggie looked like I had slapped her.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me.”

“You thought getting pregnant was going to turn you into my wife. You really are delusional. I’m not leaving Samantha.”

“You don’t love her.”

I stepped toward her so quickly she stopped talking. Maggie backed up once before catching herself.

“Don’t ever tell me what I feel about my wife.”

Her breathing caught.

“You cheat on her.”

“And?”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

I smiled. “You’ve built your entire pathetic little fantasy around the fact that I fuck you.”

“That’s not all this is.”

“It is from where I’m standing.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

This time she didn’t wipe them away.

“We’ve been together for years.”

“No. I’ve been fucking you for years.”

She shook her head, stubborn even now. “You need me too. You come back because I see you. The real you.”

That was the breaking point.

I reached into my jacket and produced the pistol. I removed my jacket, draped it over the back of the chair, and set the gun on the coffee table where she could see it clearly. Her eyes widened, fixed on the weapon.

“I think you’ve forgotten who I am Maggie,” I said quietly. “You don’t know me. You know what I show you. I could kill you right now. Nobody knows you live here. Nobody would come looking. I control whether you live or die. I control whether you stay in this house. I control every part of your fucking existence.”

For the first time I saw full realization dawn in her eyes. I was not her partner. I was not even her lover in the way she romanticized. I was her owner. She was my property. The terror that flashed across her face mixed with something else, something sick and clinging. Love, or whatever twisted version of it she still felt. The two emotions braided together right in front of me.

She stared at the gun, then at me.